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In one week, I will be free from the chains that have held me down all these years. my internal lady bits will finally be gone. And of course, for my last period ever, it’s been miserable. it’s like my uterus knows it is about to be evicted, so it’s going out with a bang. Stripping down and taking everything. Even the copper wiring.

The doc today reviewed the restrictions during recovery. No cooking, cleaning or dishes for two weeks. Yay! No gym for six weeks. Boo! No sex for eight weeks. Super boo!

I am going to try to enjoy the down time, because it’s a rare opportunity. I don’t have to run around and do everything, I need to let my body heal. Instead of being anxious and restless and horny and freaking out constantly, I will be calm and quiet and relaxed and maybe I won’t even want sex!

But how am I gonna explain this to my stable of men. I’m afraid to mention this surgery (given the reaction from erik), but I need to say something. So I’m just gonna tell the truth. If it makes him look at me differently or not want to be with me anymore, well then he isn’t deserving of my affection and attention.

We went to Mars Volta at red rocks on Monday. I had heard of them, but I wasn’t familiar with their music. And their music is weird as fuck. Plus they are one of those bands where a single song goes on for like 20 damn mins. Which is not my thing.

But I had so much fun! I haven’t been to red rocks for a concert since before the pandemic, so I forgot how amazing it is. That venue makes anything better.

Mostly though, it was him. I like being around him. He’s so cute. I’m very attracted to him. I love how he touches me and how he looks at me and how he makes me feel.

You know what else? It’s not some kind of game with him. I don’t go home after our dates, wondering god does he even like me? I don’t need to wonder because he tells me how he feels. Even better, he shows me. He doesn’t keep it a secret. I have never once questioned his intentions towards me.

It is refreshing being with someone who actually likes me and isn’t afraid to admit it.

Meanwhile; in torture christa relentlessly land, erik told me that his friends think I’m cute, they like me for him, that I’m good for him, that he should date me. Which he said he’s “taking under advisement.” Wtf with this guy. He loves toying with me. Why would he tell me all this. Why do I let him spin me up. Why can’t I just walk away from him. He likes me, he doesn’t like me, he wants me, he doesn’t want me. He’s making me crazy. I don’t want to like him, but the heart wants what it wants.

On my birthday, he was the first to text me. “Happy birthday, love.” It sent me over the moon. On his birthday I was first (I’m sure) and I said “happy birthday, friend.” He didn’t even acknowledge it. It is after midnight so maybe he’s asleep (he’s not asleep).

Did I get him birthday presents? of course I did. And are they thoughtful and sweet and cool and interesting? Of course they are. Have I been thinking about it and preparing for months? Naturally. would I like to give it all to him in person but does it seems highly unlikely? Duh of course.

So I’ll have to mail it to him or drop it off on his doorstep or something equally lame and humiliating.

Ooohh and the Christamas gift I have planned is so cool. It isn’t a gift so much as an experience. Wait that makes it sound like it’s not real presents. No no it is. The Christamas gifts are real, tangible, physical items, but it is in the presentation that the beauty truly exists.

Like if someone ever did this for me, I would immediately die, because my life would be complete.

Why am I wasting such deliciously delicious christaness on him? Unknown. Or maybe I know but I am not ready to admit to it yet.

ANYWAY.

I have some very exciting news. I have just begun the last period of my life. The very last one. For forever. Say goodbye to the world you thought you lived in.

I’ve come to terms with the emotional side of the yeeterus. Mostly. I think.

I want my doc to take a picture of the whole sloppy mess, after the naughty thing has been evicted. I’m sure she will.

Haha remember when I had nick and afterwards they left my placenta in one of those plastic hospital pans and I took a picture and made it my Facebook profile and everyone hated me? That was so great.

Man I need to find that picture.

Tomorrow night I am attending a seance and I could not be more excited. I will provide all the spooky details after, but if there’s anyone you want me to say hi to on the other side, well you better tell me now. You have until 7pm.

What is appropriate seance attire?

GOD I LOVE OCTOBER AND HALLOWEEN AND LIFE CHANGING EVENTS AND MAGIC AND WIND AND MOON AND MUSIC AND ME.

(he did respond. it was sweet. he loves me.)

I’m pretty obsessed with the hysterectomy Reddit and I’ve learned a lot of interesting things, including some advice and tips on recovery. I am grateful for it.

But as I read about various women’s partners helping them out and doing nice things for them, like preparing a “recovery cart” or setting up a yeti cooler filled with drinks and snacks to be within reach, it occurred to me that I want that, too. I want someone to take care of me! I want someone to watch over me! I’m always doing it for everyone else and now I want someone doing it for me.

There is no one though. I mean I guess my kids but come on. I raised a couple of turds.

And I suppose there is gordon but I mean, come on. He was here earlier tonight and he cooked some kind of dinner for the boys, and then he left the kitchen a holy hell mess that I got to clean up when I got home. That’s the kind of “help” Gordon is.

I’m having trouble sleeping lately and now it’s nearly 3am and I’m going to be so tired tomorrow and I have a lot of work to do and and and

Tacos, and taco Tuesdays, seem to be our thing. And tonight I ate some really good fucking tacos. With an excellent margarita. that made me a little tipsy. Another fun night.

he likes me. No one has liked me in awhile. He is sweet to me and he hugs me, he will grab my hand or put his arm around me when we are walking, he says I’m spicy. (It was a compliment). Sometimes we’ll just be sitting there and he’ll give me a little wink and it’s so cute and I love it.

LOOK HOW EASY IT IS TO MAKE ME HAPPY.

At what point do I tell him about the yeeterus (a now-beloved phrase for a hysterectomy that I learned on dear old Reddit). According to my paperwork, no sex or things inside my vagina for at least six weeks.

But I think I will wait a bit longer before saying anything. cause who knows what might happen between now and Oct 17. he’ll get bored with me soon, like all the others did, so why bother revealing a lot of unnecessary and awkward information if I don’t have to. I learned that lesson the hard way (thanks Erik).

Sleep sleep sleep christa

Ever since I started “dating” again, it’s felt like I’ve been chasing someone. or something. I don’t know what exactly.

I mean of course sex. Duh. But not just sex right? If I wanted just sex, then I certainly found it, in multiple ways, and do not need to keep looking.

So who knows what I’m doing now. Certainly not me. Which is okay. Why do I always need to know what I’m doing. Can’t I just live my life without a frigging constant deep-dive analysis of every action.

And I am having fun with my new friend. I don’t have to chase him. I don’t have to twist myself into knots and intricate positions to get his attention. He just likes me. He wants to do stuff with me. He wants to touch me. He doesn’t make me feel inadequate. It is all so very easy, so very simple. But here’s the best part. It is not boring! Normally something this uncomplicated is mind-numbingly dull.

Do not ask me about drew. I have no idea what is happening there.

And do not ask me about erik. I also have no idea what is happening there. he haunts me every hour of every day and maybe he will till the day I die, but I am able to push it to the back of my head and it doesn’t make me sick to my stomach as much anymore. Progress?

The yeeterus is quickly approaching. Ahhhhh!!! I was so wrapped up in no longer being a woman that I never considered the 6-8 week recovery, a lot of which includes no gym.

Hear that? NO GYM. What am I going to do?