Living Proof

For years I have spent hours and hours on the couch of some psychotherapist trying to defend my childhood or why I “chose” to be a lesbian. “You may very well be regressing some prior sexual abuse as a little girl, which is why you are gay.” And the worst part of that sentence is that it was from another gay therapist. She went on, “We choose this lifestyle and for good reason.” I looked at her confused and asked, “Then do people choose to be straight because they weren’t abused? Because if so, I know plenty of abused heterosexuals out there. Explain that to me please?” She couldn’t. I stumped the psychoanalyzing chump. Years later she had lost over 100 lbs worth of PTSD in weight by squeezing her stomach with a lap band and a ton of therapy to go with her eating disorder. Of course I had to change therapists and I started seeing another interesting character who had claims of seeing UFOs. It was then I stopped therapy with females altogether and just relied on my favorite logical...

Today’s off topic subject deals with menstrual matters. Depending on the situation and the severity of it, PMS can be a terrible thing for the person going through it, as well as the people around them. Shut up! Talk to me! Why aren’t you listening? Come here! Go away! What’s wrong with you? Stay here-go there-where you going? We can drive anyone insane with our crazy and erratic emotions. We’re armed dangerous with vicious words and looks that could kill. We can snap at any given moment. Don’t stir things up - just “be”. Don’t agitate us, because we’re already there. Don’t talk too much or talk too little, we’ll know something’s up. Just let us veg out watching Lifetime, sipping green tea with a box of Kleenex, because we’re gonna need it! Pity the person who’s with me. Let’s put aside the emotional roller coaster for one moment. My pain is so excruciating, that it ranges from vomiting, falling on the floor hurled into a ball crying, to turning ash gray and eventually passing out fro...

Pushing my limits to the extreme end of the “icky” side, I’m going to direct your attention over to my gynecologist’s appointment—so just beware. It may get explicit. “X” out if you are easily offended by…details. As you all know and have heard, my OCD kicks up big time during the colder months. People are getting sick, catching colds and developing the flu. My stock in Purell is my safety blanket. The one thing I dread most of all, is walking into a medical/family doctor’s office. That’s where the big bugs are. I try to stay far away, unless I’m practically on my deathbed. Then they usually end up hauling my butt to the emergency room, because of my stubborn ways—and that’s even a hundred times worse than any doc’s office. Anyway, you wouldn’t think going to the gynecologist would be alarming, as far as germs go. I never thought so. I sat in the waiting room, flipping through a magazine. And you know how much I rant about not touching those damn things, because of germs. But this isn...