2007-04-11

My angry ovaries.

Back when I was a dewey virginal teenager, I noticed that every month, about two weeks before my "time of the month," I would get a distinctly unpleasant sensation that I can only semi-adequately describe as the feeling of having about half a dozen marbles smacking around against my internal ladyparts. The intensity of said "marble feeling" ranged from mildly irritating to breathtakingly awful.

I approached my mother one afternoon to gauge whether or not this was normal, which was usually my first course of action, since my childhood and teen years had been riddled with countless bizarre medical maladies such that you could story an entire season of "House." And because of this, my mother's first course of action was to take me to the hospital, where I was instructed to chug a GALLON of water and then refrain from peeing so that they could give me an ultrasound.

And so it was on that coldish day in 1985 that I first heard the term "ovarian cysts."

Well. That sounded so SEVERE. Much more dramatic than any of the other shit I'd managed to contract up until then. Here I hadn't even had a guy's tongue in my mouth and I was being told to go on the Pill. I felt like a wanton slut, even though my only bedmate up to that point was Mousie.

As it turned out, I didn't go on the Pill at 15, and I wouldn't turn into a wanton slut until much, much later. But the"marble feeling" persists -- sometimes on the left side, sometimes on the right side -- and usually a couple of Advil will do the trick.

But Christ, yesterday really SUCKED. It surpassed "marbles" and hovered somewhere around "thumbtacks and rubbing alcohol." I have angered my left ovary somehow, and it saw fit to punish me by covering this month's egg with ball bearings and sandpaper before releasing it into the wild, as it were.

(I know my brother is reading this and is all: "Ew. Lees....ew.")

I'm fine now. Really.

lisamcc at 10:16 p.m.

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