All up in my bizness

"I have a disease. For which there is no known cure, that has been sexually transmitted to me. I cant even say it. H...I...R..P-E-E-S"   -Michael Scott


I have something to get off my chest.  No, it's not herpes, but it is HPV.  That's right, I have a... a....a STD.  Now before you get all Judge Judy on me, let me tell you a few things about human papillomavirus.  It's the most common STD, yet no one, not even my microbiologist friends, seems to know much about it at all.  Which is why I'm telling you all about it, partly because you need to know, but also because I don't want you to judge me.  See, this blog is fun and informative (and a judgement-free zone).   Check the facts:

•  There's around 200 types of HPV.  Some of them cause common warts.  Some cause genital warts.  I have one of the dozen "high risk" HPVs, that cause genital cancers, most commonly cervical.  Cancer causing types do not cause warts (Important factoid: I don't have warts!)
• It is believed that up to 80% of sexually active people will have sexually transmitted HPV at some point in their lives.  The majority of those people will fight off the infection without ever knowing they were infected. (Important factoid: Statistically speaking, 18 of our 23 followers, have had, do have or will have HPV).  
• A persistent infection of high-risk HPV can cause changes in cells that without treatment, can turn into invasive cancer.  A yearly Pap smear will find any abnormal cells well before that happens.  (Important factoid: Ladies, get your smears!)
• There is no "HPV test".   A Pap smear will find evidence of an infection months to years later. The time from active infection to clinically detectable disease make it difficult to determine which partner was the source of infection.
• Men have no symptoms (Important factoid: men are bastards) and the use of condoms does not fully protect against it.  The virus is transmitted via skin/mucous membrane, meaning it can be transmitting by the junk that isn't covered/protected with a condom.  (Important factoid: The only prevention is abstinence...)
• HPV vaccines only protect against two of the high-risk types, although they are the most common high-risk types.  

Now that you know some things, don't you judge me less?  I judge me less.  Now let me tell you my personal progression (because I apparently want to tell everyone about my vajayjay).

• Over the summer I had an abnormal Pap smear on my yearly visit.  Apparently protocol is to come back in a year.
• A couple months later, however, I had some major bleeding during sex.  I'm not just talking residue, I'm talking blood spattered sheets (yeah, that wasn't embarassing or anything).  I immediately called the doctor and then freaked the fuck out (this may have had something to do with the book I was reading, about aggressive cervical cancer).  There was crying involved.
• A month later I have a colposcopy.  As my gyno kept saying "I'm going to stain your cervix, then peer into you vagina to scrape the cells."  She seriously kept saying "peer into your vagina." Emphasis on the "peer".  
• She said the cells didn't look bad at all, whilst "peering".  Have you ever laughed with a speculum in your vag?  It's a weird feeling.  I like my gyno, she makes me laugh while all up in my business.  
• A couple weeks later she calls to schedule a biopsy.  Son of a bitch.  Turns out to be a superficial precancerous lesion.  What scary words those are. I may have cried.  
• I learn that the more they have to deteriorate the cervix, the harder it can be to have a full term pregnancy.  I may have cried some more, while wallowing to Brandi Carlile.  
• Violet convinces me to finally tell our mother.  (I had been avoiding due to the whole bleeding during sex/STD thing).  I call her and immediately start crying.  What is it about mothers, they make you cry without saying a word.
• My type of aggressive biopsy required sedation (thank the good Lord!), an outpatient surgery.  Such things require a person to take you home from the hospital.  I cried again.  I don't have a person here, why couldn't I just get in a cab?  
• I made a wallowing playlist.  I played it.  I wallowed.  
• I found a person, my friend Mary, who of course would take me but I was afraid to ask because she'd have to leave work to come get me.  She's so great she insisted on going with me and sat with me pre-op. 
• I had the option of being alert, but I said no, no, knock me the fuck out.  As a posse followed my bed into the operating room I was kind of concerned that the number of people who have ever seen my whoha was about to jump up exponentially.  The Valium helped that.  
• I woke up wearing disposable underwear, a giant pad and killer cramps.  I was offered Percocet.  I took it, there was no need to be brave.  
• After the cramps subsided, I honestly felt fine, just wicked tired.  The worst part of it all wasn't the "no sex for 3 weeks" (hello, I'm single, I can do that in my sleep!), it was the "no tampons (or diva cup)" rule.  Want to feel like a sixth grader? Wear pads.  What an awful period that was.  
• I'm still waiting for the pathologist reports, if all is well I'll just have to get Pap smears a couple times a year (my gyno has the most intimate relationship with my lady parts right now).  

I told this all to my friend 8-year-Lisa and she just keeps dwelling on the HPV part.  "It's not about the HPV, the problem now are the cells, not the HPV.  I have an STD, get over it."  But really she is the 20% of the population that will never get HPV.  She's been with one guy that has only ever been with her.  She's safe.  She may also be confused because she's under the impression that I'm waaaaay more innocent then I am.  No, I don't know who gave me HPV, nor do I know who I've given it to since.  I'm not going to make phone calls to  every guy I've slept with to tell them I have it.  Besides that being the single most uncomfortable experience ever, what's the point? They can't do anything about it.  If condoms don't help, what the hell am I supposed to do, just not have sex?  This is what I get for being the slut of the blog, but if I'm going to be punished for sluttiness, I wish I was a hella more slutty.  

Parental preppin'

My (and Violet's) parental units are visiting this weekend. This will be the first time they've visited since I've lived in Boston and I've spent the evening preparing for the occasion. I don't have a special boy to introduce them to or anything (nor can I tell you about introducing them to a special boy) so I feel like I have to make up for it by impressing them with my daily life. You know impress them with my "big city life" i.e. my little apartment, my huge workplace, my easy navigation of public transportation, and my cultured taste for ethnic food (where Violet and I are from, the only "ethnic" food is a Chinese buffet and that doesn't count because they also serve chicken nuggets). So this is what I've been doing this evening:

1. Cleaning. Obviously. Some people may not notice dust but those some people are not my parents. Ok, so it's not just dust, my room usually looks like a closet threw up in it. And to be honest, I've lived here 7 months now and I still haven't figured out where to put some things. I'm sure my mom will have several opinions on that subject. She's ever so helpful *eyeroll*
2. Grocery shopping. Can't really say what I've been eating this week. I think mostly apples/applesauce (I went apple picking last weekend). I'm guessing that the parentals won't be too crazy about that idea. Also, I don't want them eating all my apples!
   
3. Emailing the roommates. Partly to warn them, partly to beg them to not be giant drunken slutbags this weekend. You think it would be a given, seeing that I rarely have guests over and these happen to be my parents, that maybe they should stay low-key or if nothing else, go elsewhere. It shouldn't be too much to ask, but that would be giving them too much credit. So I specifically asked that they have a low-key weekend and even "paid them off" by taking on all the chores this week. This better work because if I overhear sex moans while sitting on the sofa with my mother I will 1. kill them and 2. immediately escort my parents to the nearest hotel without making eye contact with either of them, yet possibly have to stay with them because I'll be a wanted felon.
4. Hiding things. So I know I'm an adult and all but my mother has a tendency to get into things. Not really sure how she does it (I hope to inherit this gift) but say if there were some, um, personal items in your dresser drawer she'll somehow come across these, um, items within the first 10 minutes of her visit. And that's not really something I want to experience. That being said those condoms in my nightstand now have a new home. (On a side note I've realized those condoms expire in December and I find myself hoping against hope that I will have a reason to use them before then. Come. On!) One thing I will not be hiding is my "Condoms don't protect the heart" sticker. It was a gift from my mum, afterall.

So I'm all prepared to be visited by my parents. We're going biking on the Cape (thankfully they still have a mini-van so they can bring up their bikes, rearview mirrors, spedometers and all...dorks), stopping by my lab, and eating at a Shabu/Japanese place (I may have to bring them forks in my purse). If you're wondering how many times they'll bring up Violet and her ACTUAL BOYFRIEND, my guess is as good as yours (but I'm leaning towards 7). Happy Friday, everyone!

Abstinence only

That's right. Condoms don't protect the heart. Thanks, Mom. My mom sent this sticker to me in her last mailing. Apparently she found it while cleaning out our old coats before giving them to Goodwill. This prize was found in the pocket of my coat I wore in high school. Why she thought I needed a reminder of what condoms do or do not do, is beyond me. Doesn't she remember that I was in the Abstinence Club?

That's right, I was in the Abstinence Club all through high school. If you're wondering, the Abstinence Club was not something I made up as an excuse for not getting laid. No. The Abstinence Club was a bonafide state-funded program that required us to wear obnoxiously bright yellow tshirts while putting on skits for 5th graders. I don't mean to brag, but my BFF, Greenley, and I wrote the skit pretty much all by ourselves when we were in 9th grade. Yeah, you're right, we were pretty cool back then.

The Abstinence Club encouraged abstaining from drugs and alcohol, but sex was our real bread and butter. Greenley and I wrote a scintillating tale that included football players, high school dances, and a scandalous teen pregnancy (Obviously, we have to get a teen pregnancy in there. It's what happens when you have sex!). We even had this girl show up at the dance (after being shipped off to her Aunt's in a nearby town) with her newborn baby, telling her former flame, "Of course it's yours!" Oh, what drama. (It's as if I had grown up watching soaps with my mom...which I did).

The great part is, Greenley and I also got to act in the skits, and hell yes we played the same parts all 4 years. Greenley played a promiscuous girl who had to be rejected by her football playing beau. It's as if she had learned nothing from her baby mama friend, Jasmin. I, on the other hand, would not even consider going to my football playing boyfriend's house with his parents out of town. "Look," I would say with much gusto, "you know what happened to Jasmin. That is NOT going to happen to ME!" The fifth graders couldn't help but be moved by that performance. (And I'm positive that I convinced them that being alone in a house together will result in a baby.) If you're wondering how I can remember my lines after 7 years, it's because I played the same part and said my lines the exact same way over the course of 4 years and every 5th grade class in the district. We are talking dozens of performances, people. If that's not the sign of great acting skills, then I don't know what is.

When we were seniors we got a little over the top. We had a musical performance by a girl that could actually sing, along with a real life football player that could actually play the guitar. One time Greenley and I sang backup, complete with two-stepping and hand gestures in the background. It was no High School Musical production (obviously as it wasn't highly choreographed dancing with basketballs) but it was pretty awesome. Unfortunately, our adviser wouldn't let us do it again. She said it was distracting and taking away from the message of the song (Wait for me by Rebecca St. James). Sadly, my career as a back up singer was over before it ever really began. What can I say, I sang, I danced, I acted, I wrote skits...I had so much potential back then.

So yes, I was in an Abstinence Club. It was fun. We were actually fairly cool and some us were actually fairly, if not completely, abstinent. We got to get out of school, we got pizza and doughnuts, and we got those rad yellow tshirts too. I wish I still had mine, but at least I still have a sticker. A sticker which is currently on my bathroom mirror, right where it belongs. Thanks, Mom!

Liberation at last

Someone wrote, "Be the change you want to see in the world" on a bathroom stall at the bar (yes, it was a hippie bar). It made me think, I am going to be the change, so here I am to start the Revolution of celebrating Single's Awareness Day. We've mentioned this day that we so firmly believe in before, but I want you to know why we celebrate this rather than Valentine's day. So join us, be the Revolution...

It's February. We all know what that means. Valentine's day does not sneak up on a girl, it looms. Fear not ladies, liberation has come. WWBD? does not only not celebrate this silly "holiday," we simply do not believe in it. Period.

No, we are not angry bitter singles trying to take a stand against a made up holiday that only reaffirms our debilitating loneliness. (Oh, puh-lease). We're self-righteous singletons even when we're not single. This has been a firm belief that has spanned years and boyfriends. Here's why:

• Can you say commercialism? Why does "love" have to be in the form of red and pink hearts? In overpriced bouquets? In little teddy bears that say "I wuv you beary much"? In ridiculously priced jewelry and candy? I'm not quite sure who St. Valentine was, but I'm pretty sure he'd be appalled at his holiday. It's just coporate America making you feel obligated to buy a new dress, eat a the fanciest restaurant you can afford, and basically buy the love of the one you're with. Oh, and judge the one you're with for buying you that gift from the gas station on his way over. We may be in an economic crisis, but I'm sorry, I just don't want that halogram bear shaped balloon or that rose shaped condom.
  
• You don't need a holiday to show someone you love them. If you really truly love someone, you can show them how much you care every single day. Buying presents and spending money doesn't say love. Actions do. Simple things that say "I was thinking of you" or "I knew you'd love this." I much rather receive handpicked wildflowers in summer than overpriced roses in February. I'd rather he cook me dinner sometime, then take me out along with every other couple in America. Instead of buying me heartshaped chocolates, I want him to be at the grocery store one day and buy pistachios because he knows I've been craving them for weeks.
  
• Candy makes you fat. I don't know about you, but in February I'm still trying to drop those holiday pounds/keep my resolution of losing weight. Don't tempt me by showing your "love" with artificially colored/flavored sweets. Do you not know me but at all?
• It's a holiday made up by men. Yes, it's women who obsess over it and are upset when their husbands forget. But I can almost guarantee that it was men (most likely businessmen who were looking to make a few bucks) that came up with this day of love. Think about it, they have to be sweet and romantic for one day, and the rest of the year they can be complete arses. We've probably let them off the hook so many times because they've come through on February 14th. All they have to do is spend some money and boom, they're guaranteed sex with the possibility of slutty lingerie. What a deal. Break out the condom roses.
• Smug marrieds adore it. Because I hate everything smug marrieds live for, I cannot support this holiday. It's just another way they can be all smug and married in our faces, and ask us several times if we have any plans for the evening. Like we need that.

No special plans necessary. No staying in with Ben & Jerry needed. It's liberating to be a nonbeliever. Join the movement.

Proud graduates of the Abstinence Academy for Slutty Girls

The following message does not reflect the views of WWBD? and is solely the opinion of the author.


I recently rediscovered a great video blog, The Midwest Teen Sex Show. As the name implies, it may be directed at teens, but you don't have to be a teen to enjoy it. It is downright hilarious (although I have to admit the last episode, #20, is the weirdest one I've seen yet, and definitely not my favorite, so be sure to check out the others) and I really admire them for getting information out there for teens. MTSS doesn't play the abstinence only education game- just ask Sarah Palin how well that works- they educate, and I applaud them for it. I mean, seriously. If you leave someone alone, and tell them that absolutely under no circumstances are they to push the button, what is the only thing they are going to want to do as soon as your back is turned? Push the button! If they're going to do it, they're going to do it, so you may as well give them some condoms. Which is exactly what MTSS does!