It seems that this may be my last arse post. For a while at least.
During our recent visit with the abuelos in the UK I got to see a GP about my troublesome bum. [Please catch up here and here if you think you’re hard enough]. Apparently what is wrong with my bum is nothing that a few more pelvic exercises before I gave birth wouldn’t have prevented. Great. So, no surgery required then. Just kegels morning, noon and night.
I should be happy. I am.
But I also feel bit like Edina Monsoon in that episode of Absolutely Fabulous when Saffy points out that her mother is fat, simply because she eats too much, and not because of some exotic food allergy. Eddie’s counter-argument went along the lines of: if losing weight were as easy and eating less and exercising then everyone would be doing it. Similarly, if preventing your bum from falling out after childbirth was as easy as doing some pelvic floor exercises, then everyone would be doing it right?
Anyway, about my arse. I have poured my heart and soul out on the internet. Written blog posts about it. And Tweeted those blog posts up. So don’t you dare tell me there is nothing dreadfully wrong with my bum! After all this worry and blog inches all I have to show is a prescription for hemorrhoid cream and a lecture on kegels exercises. I could have told me that!
And what the hell am I write about now if I can’t write about my bum? I might have to write some product reviews or sensationalise another part of my body. Not that I was sensationalising my bum. I didn’t write about my bum just so people would go “oh my god, look what she is writing about her bum”. And on she rambles.
The point is, arse issues remain, but I rather think that the time has come to keep those issues to myself don’t you?
Can I just say one last thing? The good to come out of these posts is that it forced me to go and get things checked out. So, mind is at rest. And arse is forever changed. Line drawn. Stop.
*collective sigh of relief*