I love this blog and I especially love Live It, Love It's TMI Thursdays. I decided to join in today. Lucky you. So without further achoo..... It's about to get all kinds of TMI up in here. Back slowly out of the room now if you don't want to read about my lady business maladies.
Still here? What kind of sick fucker are you, wanting to read about that??? You're gross. I think I love you. Call me!
I pretty much live my life in fear of getting a yeast infection. I got my first one in college after my dermatologist put me on antibiotics for acne. I started noticing on my walks to classes that I was a little, ummmmm.....itchy. That's not a cool feeling. Girls, back me up on this one. How do you take care of an itch like that in public? If you're a guy, you just reach down there and scratch it. Based on how many men I've seen do that, I guess it's just acceptable behavior for them. But not for a woman. Have you ever seen a woman do that? I have not, luckily for me because it would be yucky. I can't even stand to watch a girl pick her underwear out of her butt....and I HAVE actually done that, but only when I'm wearing my "None of my good underwear is clean and I'm down to the stretched out boy shorts that are saggy in the cheek area" panties. So it was okay. For me. Not for you. It's blech if you do it.
So things started out pretty mild for me that first time. A bit of an itch when I would walk longer distances, but that was about it. Then I started to get worried when it became a more constant itch and then it finally got so bad that I had to fight the constant urge to grind sandpaper against my coochie. What's really sad about this is that I didn't know what a yeast infection was. I was 20 years old and neither my mother nor my doctor had told me about them. Plus I had a boyfriend that I was pretty sure was cheating on me, so I worried that it might be an STD. So I called him and I was all "Hey, here's something weird...my cooter itches like a mofo. Any ideas?" and he was all "That's disgusting" and I was just about to yell "You did this to me! YOU'RE disgusting!" when I turned the page of the magazine I was looking at and saw an ad for yeast infection cream. It was like a sign from God or maybe from my inappropriate Aunt Donna who says things to me like "Make sure your doctor is only doing a breast exam and not feeling you up. If he pinches your nipples more than once, that's a bad sign." The magazine ad said something in big bold letters about extreme vulva itch being a symptom of a yeast infection. Which to me sounds like a great name for a game show. Join us to see if Jody can scratch her way to a million dollars, next time on Extreme Vulva Itch!
Anyway, I got all excited at the prospect of having a yeast infection because yea! no STD. I bounced off to the drug store and proudly bought the cream and smiled real big at the clerk because hi! I don't have an STD! And the clerk smiled back at me sweetly but I'm sure she was thinking good luck with your STD...you're not fooling anyone with that Vagisil, missy.
Fast forward to the present day and I am no longer happy about the yeast infections. I mean, seriously? It was like that first one back in college opened the door to dozens of others just like it. A yeast infection is like the extended family members that keep showing up at your house uninvited. Except not the fun family members. It's always creepy Uncle Mark who tells you to sit in his lap and reach into his pocket for a butterscotch candy. Or your cousin Tammy who always points out how much better her life is than yours and her four bratty kids that keep touching the candy dish your mom painted in ceramics class when you were a baby and then they break something and Tammy just laughs and says "oh kids, gotta love 'em!" and then you laugh too but then you kick her in the vagina so she can't shoot out anymore of those assholes. That is exactly what yeast infections are like.
And what the hell, yeast? Must you always show up at the first sign of stress in my life? Like it's not bad enough that the Captain is trying to find a job and we have idiot renters living in our house and my job sucks. Now you wanna move into my vagina and set up camp? Awesome. Also, thanks for coming on the same day my period starts because now I can't wear tampons because of you.
So now when I feel my little yeasty friend is about to show up, me and my poor itchy vagisaurus trudge off to the drug store, pick up the one-day cream because damned if I'm going to suffer through putting that shit up in the fun canal for three or seven days anymore, and then sigh when I realize the cashier is a 16 year old teenage boy. Hey life, go fuck yourself.
The only fun part about having a yeast infection is hanging out in the bathroom and waiting to insert the medication until the exact moment I hear Captain Carl walk in, so that I can see him freak out and scream "Wait! Bah!!! Ahhh! Gross!!" and then run out of the room. Hey Captain, that's for saying "Again?" when I told you I had a yeast infection and then insisting on calling it my "cooch funk".