My grandmother, who was quite the wordsmith, always used to say, "You gotta get your possible clean. You wash as far up as possible...as far down as possible, and then you wash Possible."
My latest adventure began in the shower. I was washing Possible and I noticed she needed a haircut. Normally, this is a task that I can accomplish in a matter of minutes. I have become quite deft with my lady bic, but like every other aspect of my life...The childrens manage to make the most menial tasks difficult or near impossible to complete. Regardless of my reason to enter the bathroom; be it to poop, brush my teeth, shower, or pop a pimple... the childrens yeild an interest in whatever is occuring in the tiniest room of our house.
So, there I was, giving Possible a haircut, when from the other side of the shower curtain I hear, "AHHHHHHH!" The lady bic slipped, and before I could stop my hand...I wacked half of Possible's mustache off.
Normally, I give Possible what I like to call "The Hitler Mustache" hairstyle, but thanks to my children and the slip of the razor...Possible had a new hairstyle. After shrieking at the kids, I bent down to examine the situation, and came to only one conclusion. The other half had to go. In my mind I was going over the terrible disadvantages to having a bald Possible. Razor burn being second, and trying to explain the whole incident to my husband being first.
Well, I will skip the details, but the Bald Possible led to what I like to call, "Sexapallooza". It was ten of the most passionate, and fun days of my life. My husband made me climax. In my genitals. Sexually. A lot.
Anyway, on the tenth day I started to feel a bit strange in my lady parts. I attributed this to Possible's five o'clock shadow, but we'd discussed it, and she wanted to go back to her old hairstyle.
The eleventh day I awoke with discomfort comparable to what it must feel like to have a centipede in your vagina, making a home. I thought back on the last ten (terrific) days, and after recounting the evening six nights prior... adult fun time in the pool ...I realized I probably had a yeast infection of epic proportions. The mother of all yeast infections. I suffered through the agony for four days.
I went to the Urgent Care facility in town, and I was diagnosed with a yeast infection and a UTI. Okay, a week of antibiotics, and I'm square. The antibiotics that were prescribed to me had to have been manufactured by Satan himself. It made me violently ill, and after taking an antibiotic pill I felt the way Ke$ha sounds.
So, today...I headed back to my regular doctor. After a quick vaginal and pelvic exam it was decided that I had a bacterial infection inside of my Possible. Otherwise known as Bacterial Vaginosis or BV, otherwise known as "Honeymoon Syndrome", otherwise known as "Too much fun with your husband".
Anyway, according to my doctor, Satan's antibiotics wouldn't have been helpful against this bacteria, and after two pills today and two tomorrow, I should be back to my old self. My doctor threatened to put some velcro on my Possible, and advised that my husband and I ease back into our sexual activities in moderation after a week.
So, kids, what did we learn? While it might be fun to copulate several times a day, for ten days in a row, and while it might be revitalizing to one's marriage...Too much of a good thing, can be a bad thing. Take it from me, and Possible.