Bridge Over A Troubled Cervix

You know what I hate? Getting cancer. It’s really low on my list of things to do in my life. Because of that, on Tuesday, I will go to get my last HPV vaccine. This shot has been a great point of contention among political parties, schools, and parents. Being 27, I was fortunate to squeeze in under the age cutoff and have not had to deal with the social ramifications of being told that getting it will increase my promiscuity. In fact, waiting to get through the six-month series of three shots has actually reduced my promiscuity. Eighty percent of sexually –active adults have HPV, meaning that I was extraordinarily fortunate to get to my mid-twenties and still be STD free- especially since HPV can be transferred by contact alone (read “penetration not necessary”).

HPV, or the Human Papillomavirus infect your mucous membranes. While it expresses itself as warts, many strains of the virus have no showing signs at all. This is particularly scary when a few strains (about 13 of the hundreds) of this virus have been linked to [Read more]

My Bout With The Gut

That’s right, dear readers. I have a gut.

Well, it’s a slight gut, and so I try to use the term very loosely. I can look down and see my feet just fine with no revolting-looking mass of fat obscuring the view. The funny thing is that I was skinny when was much younger, and so while growing up, even at my physical peak, I always had some “baby fat” around my stomach. At the time I didn’t give it much thought. When I became a teenager, however, that “baby fat” grew up into real fat.

I could easily get rid of the gut if I wanted to. It’s just that I never had a real issue with it. If anything, I’ve always been more embarrassed about my various moles and scattered strains of hair on my back than I have been about my handles of love. I can only suspect that my hair and slightly beige completion have somehow made my gut more aesthetically tolerable than your typical pale, pasty, beer gut variety. Never felt insecure about wearing tight T-shirts around the house; never had any apprehensions about going to the beach and walking around topless. Don’t get me wrong: I wouldn’t mind having a six-pack (what sane man wouldn’t), but I refuse to dedicate the time and work to get it; I’d rather use that energy for something else. That’s the choice I’ve made and I’m sticking to it: slight gut and all. [Read more]

A Half-Full Glass of Airborne

I’m sick. I get to write this laying in bed, drinking tea, and watching old seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD. Regardless of this relaxing scenario, I’m torn on the whole sick issue. Feeling ill is one of the worst experiences ever. You aren’t yourself and nothing that you want to do can happen. I would rather be clear headed and focused on my homework. I would rather be running around eating fun and exciting breakfasts at my local greasy spoon or drinking my sugar free hazelnut soy extra-hot latte from the ‘Bux. However, my body has taken a leave of absence and requires that I lay around like deadly sin number 4.

So I ride the emotional roller coaster of illness; feeling momentarily joyous that I have an excuse to lay around and watch Buffy save the world over and over (sue me, she’s a kick ass role model) and experiment with my newest concoction of green pomegranate and raspberry sangria tea, and then facing the harsh reality that I have three classes worth of homework to do, some boning up on my new job training, food to buy for the week, music to study for my voice lesson, and, oh yeah, a blog post to write. [Read more]