It is quite possibly one of thee worst vagina occurrences I’ve ever encountered. Second only to pushing a small watermelon out of it and having tummy tuck drain tubes stuck in the top of it for weeks.
It is seriously almost worse than both of those – put together.
Let me back up and start from the beginning.
Yesterday was a normal Monday. I felt all sassy when I woke up so I decided to actually put some effort into how I looked. I curled all of my hair. I used a bunch of new makeup and makeup brushes I bought. I freaking wore feather earrings. I put on a white shirt with a ruffle down the front and a belt around the waist.
Then? I put on my Gap jacket that is EXACTLY like my best friend’s jacket – except hers is black. That’s right – yours truly – with Jenny’s help – shopped all of Ebay and found a jacket just like hers so we could be twins
Anywhoozle, I felt pretty good.
Then strange things began to happen about mid-way through the day.
My armpits would itch like little aliens were tickling them with tiny feathers just to piss me off. I itched them and moved on. The back of my neck itched a few times. Whatever.
My left eye felt like it had a mosquito bite in the outside corner so I itched it. No biggie.
I went to my board meeting. I went to my daughter’s basketball game afterwards.
And on the way home – life exploded. Well, wait. Life didn’t explode but hives the size of OJ Simpson’s ego did.
Now I’m no stranger to hives. I get them all the time in social situations BUT they aren’t hives like this. I usually get red splotches on my chest. No itching. Nothing raised. I don’t even know they are there until someone says something or I look in the mirror. They go away within an hour.
But these hives I got last night – holy shit on a stick. THESE are hives. Raised bumps and welts more than 3 inches long. Everywhere where it seemed my clothes touched me. All along my bra line. My jeans line. My whole neck where my collar was. Even my hands and wrists. No lie – I had hives on my eyelids people.
My mother-effing eyelids.
You think that’s the extent of it? Nope – I had hives on my ears. On the top of my feet. Backs of my arms. Everywhere.
And let me tell you – the word “itch” does not even begin to cover it. I wanted to scrape my skin off with a butter knife.
So I sat on the couch – puzzled – itching myself like someone hallucinating on meth and praying we had benadryl. We did. I took some.
Every 10 minutes I’d go into Rambo and stand there naked and scream, “Look at me! Just look! I look like I ran through a barb-wire fence with no clothes on! I’m a leper!”
He said to take more Benadryl. I did. I freaking tried to overdose on Benadryl.
And then it happened.
A hive. In the space where your leg and crotch meet and bend.
I wanted to scream, “Oh the humanity!!!” but I decided that might scare my kids. Yelling that while frantically digging at my crotch may freak them out a bit. Hell – it freaked ME out.
So of course, one hive turns into like 80 and before you know it my vagina is encircled by hives. Outlined all pretty like someone was drawing a big circle around it.
Except it wasn’t pretty. It was red and blotchy and swelled and raised and it itched so bad that I thought I might die. Right there on my couch with a hivey vagina.
I walked to the office to show Rambo and I swear to you I had to walk bow-legged. It wasn’t pretty. Half-way there I couldn’t do it. I decided I’d just tell him they were there. No need for show AND tell. Just tell. He’d understand. He'd thank me for it later.
I took more Benadryl. Don’t hate and don’t judge. Until your vagina looks like a hooker’s crab-infested hoo-haa – you don’t get to judge.
At some point, I fell asleep or went into a coma from overdosing but either way – I stopped itching.
I woke up this morning expecting my skin to have fallen completely off but it’s still on me. And there are remnants of my hives but nothing like last night.
Was it the coat from Ebay? (I thought I had washed it but now I think I might not have) The new makeup? Something I ate? Was it the feather earrings? Were they made from some NY alley pigeon with fleas?
Who the hell knows?
All I know is my vagina looks like a vagina today. And folks – let’s all admit – that on their own hive-less vaginas aren’t all that “pretty”. Can you even fathom what one looks like with hives encircling it?
Try not to. It will haunt you until the day you die.
Just trust me when I tell you it sucks grasshopper dicks. Here’s hoping the vagina hives don’t come back today because I’m pretty sure Human Resources might have something to say to me if I walk around with my hand in my pants itching my crotch all day.