Pretty much not LDR related, there's a rant, and the end's just something amusing.

Today I had to see my primary doctor to talk about the lab results for my cholesterol. (I'd had blood work done Tuesday, my hand is STILL bruised) A year and a half ago I was put on pills to help lower it and a diet because it was somewhere in the mid 300s. Now it's in the lower 200s. The last time I saw the doctor (I forget when) I was over 340lbs. While I'd been 290 for a couple months I gained about 17lbs within the last month from depression and retaining fluid in my legs, which was a bad side-effect of the antidepressant I just got off of 2 weeks ago. Still he was super happy with me and told me to keep it up and by next year I could get off the meds. Then as he was writing up the prescription he turned to me and asked if I had a gynecologist. This kinda weirded me out because I had meant to ask about birth control but was waffling on actually asking. When I said no he told me he'd give me the number to one (a female one, thank god) and he wanted me to have a pelvic exam and pap smear.

This was the part of womanhood I dreaded most, visiting the gynecologist. From 6 until about 14 when my dad became too sick to take care of me when I did visit him every other weekend, my dad molested and verbally, sexually, and emotionally abused me. His favorite subject was, of course, my body. I was forced to have him bathe me and clean EVERY part of me because he said I didn't do it right, he told me I stunk constantly (especially on my period, girls we know we can't help that crap!) that I was ugly, fat, and no man would ever love me, that he didn't love me because I was a whore but he was the best I'd ever get. So, naturally, having anyone touch me between my legs regardless of gender is scary for me. I fight with myself every day on the idea that I do, eventually, want to give my virginity to Hattie. I've known him since I was 14 and I'm not comfortable with it yet, how the hell am I going to be comfortable with a complete stranger sticking a speculum in me, mashing my breasts, and shoving fingers in me? I'm not stupid I know it's to make sure I'm healthy but tell that to me when I'm lying spread-eagle in a paper gown staring at a ceiling.

I hadn't begun my freak out until I looked up what was routine in a pelvic exam and the more I read the worse I felt and the more I felt like crying. So, naturally, I IM'd Heather and started relaying all this. I start pointing out certain parts and she was like, "yeah, that sounds normal" and just acting like I had suddenly discovered this HAS to be done. I've known about gynecologists since middle school, I'm not stupid. I paid attention in sex ed and health. By the end of it I was basically saying there was no way this was happening, I just assume rip out my cervix and my ovaries, sew myself shut, and call it a day. She knows what my dad did to me, she even witnessed it once when she slept over and he kept coming into the room to harass me and purposely embarrass me in front of her. But what do I get? "Grow up, every woman has to do it." ...Excuse me? YOU of ALL PEOPLE, Heather should know every goddamn reason why I DON'T WANT TO BE TOUCHED, but no. Grow up. I like your pattern, chick. This incident, when I couldn't meet Hattie in May and you tell me he's a monster and I let him make me stupid because God forbid I depend somewhat on someone else now, and then in April when I tried committing suicide and all I got from you was, again, "grow up" and your life story. Yes I know your mom's a raging bitch and your dad's an alcoholic, but that doesn't invalidate my problems. If Hattie were around more I wouldn't come to you for ANYTHING.

After a while I had to go to Walmart to get more milk and V8 juice (it's all I drink at home, the V8, when it's too hot for tea. I get the fusion stuff though, I can't drink the straight stuff) and mom had to pick up a prescription and drop off my cholesterol med refill. So while she did that I wandered to the electronics section to get a mousepad and look at a new keyboard since the lettering's rubbed off all the keys on this one. It's a good thing I don't look at the keyboard but I do when I type in passwords and since my computer's password protected... you get the idea. Anyway so when I got the mousepad and decided to hell with the keyboard I was walking back to the grocery side to meet her and this HUGE black guy, I mean in the sense of height, width, and flat out body mass, with two kids maybe 4 or 5 years in age comes strolling by. I don't make eye contact with anyone ever, I don't look at faces, and I especially avoid men in public. This guy swerved in my walking space, grinned this Cheshire Cat grin, winked, and said, "hey baby." I blinked and moved around him and kept going, utterly flabbergasted. It wasn't so much he hit on me, but that he had HIS KIDS WITH HIM and did it. I mean I don't get hit on much, but the past couple months I've had a couple guys try to chat me up in places like a bookstore or, like today, Walmart. I've heard some people say they get more attention while in a relationship than single. Is that true?

Anyway, I kinda found it amusing so when we got in the car I texted Hattie.

Me: Help! A big guy with two kids tried hitting on me in Walmart! MARK YO TERRITORY, BRO!
Him (4 hours later): NOT R. KELLY!
Me: NOT LIKE THAT, FOOL.

I love this man.