Wednesday, August 09, 2006

A Call to Action

Some people yearn for world peace. Others, an end to gang violence.

I share their sentiment of wanting to end senseless tragedy.

Therefore, I long for the day when I can buy the same brand of pantiliner, in the same formulation, with the same packaging, on two consecutive drugstore trips.

"But, Arabella," you ask. "You're pregnant! You aren't getting your period now. Why do you need pantiliners?"

Good question, my friend. Good. Question.

When the nurse called to confirm that my blood pregnancy test had been positive, she told me, "Come on in tomorrow, and we'll give you some prescriptions, and some lessons."

No problem!, I thought. I can handle some more prenatal vitamins. Maybe they'll even be brightly-colored, fruit-flavored, and come in cute little baby shapes. A bonnet. A pacifier. A frickin' teddy bear. As for the "lessons," what's she going to say? "Don't smoke?" "Don't drink?" Piece of cake.

Ty and I arrived nice and early, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

And then the nurse pulled out the enormous syringe.

"This is how you do it," she explained. "You pinch the belly fat, hard, and then jam it in." (Ok, she didn't say it quite like that, but the effect was the same.)

Every morning.

"Are there any side effects?" I asked, tearfully. I was beginning to get the point. In fact, I would be getting the point very shortly. And daily.

"Yes."

Of course there were. The nasty bruising I showed you last Friday. Scrumptious. Oh, and the liquid in the syringe causes pain at the injection site.

"And, also, these are progesterone suppositories. You use them twice a day."

I temporarily forgot about the enormous needles.

"They're vaginal suppositories?!"

"Yes. Twice a day."

There is nothing quite like speaking with an important client as you feel a rush of oil trickle out of your cooter and into your underwear, protected by a woefully inadequate pantiliner, formerly wonderful and now newly redesigned to feel more cottony or some shit, that has disengaged from your panties due to moisture (WTF??? Like moisture's unexpected in the life of a pantiliner???), and is slowly working its way into your asscrack. And then you look down, and a ring of wetness is visible on your pants. As if you peed yourself.

Ladies and gentlement, this is why I think it should be perfectly acceptable to cry in the workplace. In fact, now that we're all working our asses off, I think this should be the real focus of the feminist movement.

11 Comments:

Blogger ceece said...

hehe, Oil out your cooter. Thanks for making me laugh while I'm crying at work today.

10:10 AM  
Anonymous mamatulip said...

Oh god. Yuck.

I know what you mean, though. I had to wear pantiliners every day of my pregnancies because I was just too goddamn juicy to go without. I'll never forget, while largely pregnant with Julia at the bank one day, thinking my water had broken because there was so much wetness on the front of my pants. Nope, not broken water. Just gratuitious cooter juice.

10:16 AM  
Anonymous wordgirl said...

I didn't have to do what you're doing, but I remember the..uh..extra moisture down there. "Juicy"...good word, MamaTulip. Every mucous membrane in my body was on full throttle. Good times!

10:40 AM  
Anonymous TB said...

Thank you for keeping it real Arabella.
I know it sucks, but perhaps you should move up to regular pads? Like Always with wings or some shit?

11:48 AM  
Blogger mamalujo1 said...

Pregnant women are ESPECIALLY sexy. I am very serious.

12:01 PM  
Blogger Mignon said...

I was laughing/gagging at the whole cooter juice/cooter oil conversation, and then... mamalujo! Come on! Sure, I love it when guys say that, but after this particular post?

(I could actually feel my sphincter tightening in remembrance of the invasion of the floating pantiliner... then the agony when it gets all flipped over the wrong way and sticks to your pubes so that each step... PLOING! RRRIIIIP! PING! ... pubes get plucked out by the overzealous pantiliner sticky strip.)

1:33 PM  
Anonymous Elizabeth said...

HA! I vote these the Best Comments of the Day, hands down.

I agree that it seems like every week, the packaging or something is changing on pantiliners. I always keep them on hand for those "not-so-fresh" days. I can't wait for the next time my husband asks if I'm wearing a pad because I'm having my period and I can say "No, just leaking some cooter juice". HAHAHA!!!

9:47 PM  
Blogger mamalujo1 said...

My dear "piece of exquisite beef," I would agree that you CAN take this whole being pregnant thing into reality land and make it a bit "greasy," if you will, but I stand by my general assertion that a pregnant woman is far and away the hottest creature on earth. That or one who's willing to show us her beat up legs!

Now, you must believe me when I say that by "hot" I don't necessarily mean that I just want to sport squiff. In fact, that would NOT be my intention these days. Sexiness becomes more a mind thing after marriage and kids, at least for yours truly. It's just, when you already have the ability to make a baby, and you add to that all the other features that make us human, it just seems kinda overwhelming. To me, anyway.

Love, T.

9:56 PM  
Anonymous V-Grrrl said...

Shots AND suppositories AND twins AND work?

Can I cry now? I want to cry.

Do you have to go through this through the entire pregnancy or just the first trimester?

3:36 AM  
Blogger Arabella said...

"Gratuitous cooter juice." Priceless!

Teebs, I totally should move up to the regular pads, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I feel like the combination of pregnancy and pads would make me start crying and never stop for the whole nine months. Plus, I'm afraid they would chafe my 'gina.

Yes, Mignon--let's just say I won't be needing a wax anytime soon.

Mamalujo, you're funny and sweet. And I get what you mean about "sexy" becoming a mind thing. But I do not feel at all sexy right now, cooter juice or no cooter juice!

V-Grrrl: the suppositories are only for the first trimester. The shots are TBD.

8:15 AM  
Blogger Mignon said...

MamaLu, you're the cat's nuts. I mean it, man. Can I rent you? I think that's legal in Montana...

2:42 PM  

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