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...the thing with my boobs? Is a yeast infection. On the skin under my boobs. Embarassing, grotesque--take your pick. At least there's a fairly easy cure: Monistat, with some lovely extra accountrements.
The one good part of this is that when Dr Gora saw me hiking up these hideous mounds of useless flesh, he said (unprompted): "Gemma, have you ever thought of a breast reduction?"
Only 5,000 times a day since I was ten and a half, doc.
I go back for a consultation and a recommendation next week; apparently, the Ontario government will cover it as long as it's not cosmetic, and this wouldn't be. When it wrecks your back, puts extra strain on your degenerated disc and wrecks your quality of life, that ain't just wanting to go down a few sizes and not spend so damn much on bras (which in turn give you bulbous blackheads, need padded straps, make grooves you can stick your thumbnail in and give you fucking yeast infections).
Still plotting heavily on A Book of Tongues, which truly is becoming a wonderfully strange object. Some of the twists: Being mistaken for a saint because you don't rot after death, being pursued by an Aztec goddess wearing borrowed skin, a long trip through the Petrified Forest, gunfighting using spells instead of bullets. Also: Much doomy, because-you're-here gay sex (probably a given); zombie dinosaurs (probably not).
The one good part of this is that when Dr Gora saw me hiking up these hideous mounds of useless flesh, he said (unprompted): "Gemma, have you ever thought of a breast reduction?"
Only 5,000 times a day since I was ten and a half, doc.
I go back for a consultation and a recommendation next week; apparently, the Ontario government will cover it as long as it's not cosmetic, and this wouldn't be. When it wrecks your back, puts extra strain on your degenerated disc and wrecks your quality of life, that ain't just wanting to go down a few sizes and not spend so damn much on bras (which in turn give you bulbous blackheads, need padded straps, make grooves you can stick your thumbnail in and give you fucking yeast infections).
Still plotting heavily on A Book of Tongues, which truly is becoming a wonderfully strange object. Some of the twists: Being mistaken for a saint because you don't rot after death, being pursued by an Aztec goddess wearing borrowed skin, a long trip through the Petrified Forest, gunfighting using spells instead of bullets. Also: Much doomy, because-you're-here gay sex (probably a given); zombie dinosaurs (probably not).
