I’ve been waiting for three weeks now on two equally important e-mails.
One is from the literary agent who requested to read my manuscript and in whose hands all my hopes and dreams rest, fragile as a baby bird.
The other is from Kmart, who assured me I’ll be the first to know when they restock the bowls that will finally complete my new dish set.
Which do you think will arrive first? I’m taking bets.
In other news, I went to the gynecologist yesterday at the university clinic. The nurse asked if I was okay with having a male med student in the room. I said it was fine, thinking back on how I once too was a student, observing therapy sessions of others (arguably a more vulnerable experience than a pap smear). I’m not gonna lie though– it was weird. The doctor, nurse, AND med student were all across from where I lay exposed in the stirrups. And the doctor kept feeling around and pressing various parts of mine and saying to the student, “This is the cervix,” “This is the pubis,” “This is the clitoris,” as the student nodded and said “Hmmmm.” (It was actually a learning experience for me too). But yeah. Pretty sure I was this guy’s first vagina model.
Was that blog appropriate? I debated it for a while but finally figured hey, a lot of people have vaginas. But I don’t know. You decide.
Today a 3rd grader told me that I still act like a kid. I like to think it was my youthful spirit, but it might have just been that I was using putty to make farting noises.