Category Archives: ass pain

You’re Bleaching Whaaaat?

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You’re Bleaching Whaaaat?

Anal bleach, this exists people. Let me back up (wink) and explain. The hubs and I went to a party last night. A majority of the party was a group of friends known as the car guys and their wives. The car guys met through their love of cars and somehow, despite this seemingly shallow connection, have sowed deep rooted friendships. For a handful of years we have socialized  – parties, annual beach getaways, vacations and weddings. It’s an interesting group of friends, the book writes itself.

Last night’s party is one of the group’s traditions. There is always an “adult” gift exchange, some variation of the white elephant. I always aim for funny with potential for mildly offensive, it’s my comfort zone. I brought a “People of Walmart” desk calendar, who wouldn’t love that! I also brought a book with stickers for adulting.

This is a bit of a rub because I was actively brainstorming this idea a few years ago. I got sick of sewing (OK my father in law sewed…but still, annoying AF) badges on my daughter’s brownie sash. Throughout the process (basically, when I had to safety pin badges on 3 minutes before an event, because, that’s what I do) I would think, damn there should be adult badges. But badges are such assholes with their need to be sewn on and they are kind of a commitment. Badges are the tattoo of the sewing world. No, I thought to myself, stickers would be better – cheaper, less hassle. Wouldn’t you know, someone else thought it was a good idea and bippity, boppity, boop – –

So back to the party. The hubs and I brought two gifts – the People of Walmart desk calendar and the adult sticker book. Oh and the party had a plaid theme. Most of the guys looked like lumber jack wannabes with some variation of red & black checkered shirts. The ladies hit Victoria’s Secret hard and got the same pattern in PJs. I wore normal clothes with a plaid scarf because I’m a chicken shit. I tired to find something plaid, I really did. I ordered a plaid skirt from Amazon and honestly, when I looked at it, I heard the sound of bagpipes in my mind and I didn’t want to look like this –

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The sad part of is I didn’t even win the “Least Festive” category (oh yes there are contests too). Some bitch in a pink sweater dress won. I can’t even win at losing….hey wait, I think that means I did win at losing. Screw you pink dress lady, I’m a bigger loser than you. I feel better now.

Back to the gift exchange. It was some variation of a white elephant except there was a board and you had to pull instructions from it…like find a brunette and exchange gifts. This was confusing to me because I have highlights, am I blonde, brunette, I don’t freakin’ know anymore, the bleach has gotten to me. So I went up to some lady who looked like Velma Dinkley with much better hair and exchanged gifts. Did I mention that I did this out of turn and it was completely inappropriate? Oh and I’m the sober one at these events which makes it all the more laughable.

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I slithered back into the kitchen after that awkward moment and Chrissy (one of the car guy wives) says “keep that bag, don’t let them get it.” So I basically hid in the kitchen area with a few of the guests, protecting my gift like a momma bear with her cub. At the end of the exchange we all opened our gifts. Chrissy gifted us with “marital aids” which would have been the highlight gift of the evening if this didn’t show up – one of the other wives went home with this. It was placed in a really cute bottle holder, dressed like Santa. It looked innocent enough, sigh.Picture 1 of 1

Folks I didn’t know products like this existed. I’m not a prude. I’ve had a Brazilian Wax or two in my day but (butt) really, I don’t even want to go to the trouble of whitening my teeth. Reminds me of a movie I saw recently (hysterical, BTW)-

 

So this was our kickoff to a month of parties. This one will be tough to top.

#MattLauer #TaxReform #Russia #Pocahontas – because I need traffic, damn it.

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Pain in the Ass….

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Pain in the Ass….

So I have a legit pain in my ass. Somehow I injured my coccyx.  No I haven’t grown a man part, that’s my tail bone you filthy animal. It’s been hurting since May, I blame it on Pilates. That was the only thing new about my exercise regime. There was a lady in the class who was at least 20 years older than me and she had the flexibility of double-jointed ballerina. I was the clumsy one who couldn’t roll my feet over my head in a smooth, controlled motion. My moves were more Frankenstein and less Cirque du Soleil. C’est la vie. I kind of sucked at Pilates so quitting that wasn’t a huge sacrifice. I stopped going, thinking the problem would alleviate, it hasn’t.

I’m not incredibly observant when it comes to my own body’s aches and pains. I prefer the ignore-it-and-maybe-it-will-go-away approach. I couldn’t ignore the pain which was my constant companion when we went to see Jim Jeffries in May. That’s how I know when this whole mess started. The show was great but I was in considerable pain, sitting is my current Kryptonite. I found that out about 15 minutes into the two hour show. I kept switching seated positions, like an overactive toddler that has to pee all the time. The roll over to one cheek method helped, but it made it look like I had to pass gas all night.  Not the vibe I wanted to achieve while out with a group of my husband’s friends and their wives.

Still, I’m not one to run to the doctor. I did my research online. Bryce Warden, MD (Medically Deficient) I scoured the internet to find out what was wrong with me. Web MD suggested a bruised or fractured coccyx, it sounded right. In July, I finally hauled my aching ass to the doctor and she ordered an x-ray.

Feeling very adult for going to the doctor, I sat in the parking lot of the doctor’s office reviewing the paperwork. Fun fact, x-rays of the sacrum/coccyx area require an enema prior to the x-ray. Good times. Having never had an enema before I was back to research mode to get some pro tips from those who have “gone” before me. My husband and I had a brief conversation about this.

Me: “I need to have an enema before the x-ray.”

Hubs: “I’m not giving it to you.”

Me: “Damn right, you’re not.”

And we have preserved our sex lives a little longer, perhaps until one of us winds up in Depends. I got the gist of what needed to be done and took matters into my own hands (ass). Got the x-ray and no fracture was detected. That was in July, surely this thing will improve, I hear it “takes time”. Pro tip – if someone tells you that something “takes time”, buckle up you’re in for a bumpy ride and that person likely has no flippin’ idea of how much time it actually takes.

End of October, I’m back at the doctor because this thing isn’t letting up. I’ve tried ice/heat, I sit for maybe 5 minutes at a time unless I’m driving. In the car I have one of those sexy donut pillows. The pain just won’t let up. So I get sent to physical therapy.  The place I went to had a bunch of tables, random gym equipment – treadmills, exercise balls, etc. and the median age was 83. The staff brought the median age down to 83 as most of the therapists looked to be about 12. That’s a sign you’re getting older when people in their twenties look like middle schoolers, sigh. Anyhow, I fill out 50 forms, am reminded of how shitty my insurance is and realize this will be an out-of-pocket expense.

I’m committed to try it at this point and am introduced to my Physical Therapist named Chris.  Chris is a good-looking guy, maybe 23 years old? We go into a room to discuss my “problem”. Let me just explain something….this may sound sexist, I don’t care. Midlife men tend to see younger attractive females as bait or a conquest. I know some midlife women act similarly with younger guys hence, the term cougar. I am not a cougar, an alley cat or any kind of wanna be predator. I saw Chris and thought, I wonder if my son will look like this guy in 10 years. That’s right, so in my mind this guy could be my son in 10 years.

Chris takes my history with copious notes. He then proceeds to examine me which includes extensive handling of my ass. There is really no other way to describe it. It wasn’t sexual he was just doing his job. But dear God it was awkward. I’m doing exercises, hoping to not pass gas while this guy is kneading my backside. Then at the end of the session, I am placed belly side down on a table in a common room. Electrodes are placed directly on my butt cheeks and the current is cranked up to whatever level I could handle. Then, an ice blanket is placed on the offending area. As I’m lying there, freezing my ass off, I thought is this some middle-aged hazing ritual? Did AARP set this whole thing up? Is there a hidden camera somewhere? ……And my ass still hurts.