(if you already read the intro about IC, check out today's thoughts underneath the row of pretty pretty stars)
I thought it would be cool to document teh life of a chick who's got the girlie-disease "interstitial cystitis."
A lotta people don't know what I.C. is so here goes: incurable tiny ulcers inside the wall of your bladder make it hard to walk, exercise, eat, drink, fuck, dance, breathe, smell flowers, blah blah blah.
The thing is? I have this disease and i'm still kickin' ass.
And other for-real chicks that have bullshit going on with their bodies can relate.
No matter what our mutherfucking misogynistic doctors, sadistic nurses, well-meaning family members, and uninformed aquaintances say, we are awesome, and we can do a good job of taking care of ourselves, thankyouverymuch.
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I hate being a girl. I know boys have to worry about their safety and stuff too, but girls can't just say "Yeah, we've hung out a couple of times, you seem cool, I'll meet you at the concert." Cause concerts aren't over until 1am and they might be far away from my house. I have to think "Where will I get the money for the cab that allows me to avoid walking through dark parking lots or waiting alone at bus stops at night?" I have to call ahead so the cab will be waiting for me outside the venue RIGHT when the concert ends so I can take off ASAP if need be. I have to find a friend who will wait up for my call when I get home safe and call the police if I don't. I have to bring a bag big enough to carry my plethora of self defense mechanisms (even though that bag might not go with my outfit!!! Oh the humanity!
), I can't get even slightly wasted, I can't wear anything TOO sexy cause he might get the wrong idea, oh holy crap it's just all to frickin' much.
I thought it would be cool to document teh life of a chick who's got the girlie-disease "interstitial cystitis."
A lotta people don't know what I.C. is so here goes: incurable tiny ulcers inside the wall of your bladder make it hard to walk, exercise, eat, drink, fuck, dance, breathe, smell flowers, blah blah blah.
The thing is? I have this disease and i'm still kickin' ass.
And other for-real chicks that have bullshit going on with their bodies can relate.
No matter what our mutherfucking misogynistic doctors, sadistic nurses, well-meaning family members, and uninformed aquaintances say, we are awesome, and we can do a good job of taking care of ourselves, thankyouverymuch.
****************************************************************************************************************************
I hate being a girl. I know boys have to worry about their safety and stuff too, but girls can't just say "Yeah, we've hung out a couple of times, you seem cool, I'll meet you at the concert." Cause concerts aren't over until 1am and they might be far away from my house. I have to think "Where will I get the money for the cab that allows me to avoid walking through dark parking lots or waiting alone at bus stops at night?" I have to call ahead so the cab will be waiting for me outside the venue RIGHT when the concert ends so I can take off ASAP if need be. I have to find a friend who will wait up for my call when I get home safe and call the police if I don't. I have to bring a bag big enough to carry my plethora of self defense mechanisms (even though that bag might not go with my outfit!!! Oh the humanity!
), I can't get even slightly wasted, I can't wear anything TOO sexy cause he might get the wrong idea, oh holy crap it's just all to frickin' much.VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
When I'm hanging out with the opposite sex, I worry more about my insides than my outsides. Women may not be able to feel safe in dark parking lots, but many of them are positively roguish in the alleys of the heart.