we did it babby

ok I am gonna tell you anyways. I was in an elevator with my sister and some medical staff and at a random floor an elderly lady walked in. I held up a drawing my sister had done in the hospital and asked, “what’s the name of this lady you drew?” and my sister said, “trash”

It would be called something like The Ultimate Lore tournament or some shit and the idea is to crown whoever has the best lore

The categories would be the following:

How I got this scar/injury

How I met this individual/these folk

How I obtained this item

The context behind this photo

So the ideal participant has a piece of lore for each category (and I am receptive to hearing more categories that I am sure I’ve overlooked.)

We go through each category and each participant either brings the item/person or photo in question to the stage and then they have 5 minutes or less to Give Us That Lore!

The audience then rates on a notepad (or an app or website perhaps) about how intriguing they found that lore based on a number of points.

In the end, whoever has the most lore points is crowned the Lore King or whatever. I’m still figuring out details.

I’ve been experiencing odd symptoms for like a year now. 3 years ago they found a 1cm fibroid and told me it wasn’t anything to worry about. last Friday I got an ultrasound after several months of trying to make an appointment and I was told that it is now the size of a baseball. the only option I have at this point is a partial hysterectomy.

this came as a total shock to me as I had it in my head as a routine checkup. I was supposed to go back to work but I couldn’t. just went home, threw my brochures on the couch and cried. I still can’t wrap my head around it. I just came back from a dream trip and didn’t even have a week to enjoy the afterglow. felt like I fell off the clouds right into a pit.

I never planned on children but now it’s no longer a choice. I have to come to terms that I will never ever create life. there won’t be a little person with a little of me and a little of my husband. there isn’t even a word for the feminine equivalent of emasculation but I feel like that’s where I’m at. I’ve had a period since I was 11 years old and they were debilitating. I always had to leave class once a month. 24 years of my body bringing me to my knees to serve something that I have to remove now. I should feel relief but I just feel grief.

The nurse was so casual about how she said it as she looked at my ultrasound. She went, “Oh that’s not good. I’m betting a hysterectomy is the best option, but I’ll let the doctor talk about that. But no biggie since you don’t want kids anyways, right? Hah!”

As if she didn’t tell me I had to get an organ removed. As if she didn’t tell me part of my agency was just stripped away while I was in such a vulnerable state. Like it’s not a big deal that I will have to go through some ambiguous timeframe of recovery and will have to see the sorrow on my parents’ and in-laws’ faces as they try to squash down their hopes for grandchildren to support me. Like I’m not gonna financially suffer for it.

It’s just so heavy and I wish I had somewhere to put my hurt. I always thought if I got pregnant by accident and had a girl I’d name her Celestine. I feel like I have to officially say goodbye to her now.

husband: for the last time, you can’t dictate what items I’m attached to in the hopes that my spirit will cling to something that fits your aesthetic when I die

I have 1000 things to say and I will probably say them here after I am done blabbing in person to everyone who even looks at me but the one thing I will say right now is this: