So I've been thinking. I haven't been blogging as much as I normally do and the fact of the matter is, I wish I had this internal recorder in my head. Cuz I swear, I do my best material while I am laying in bed and I should be sleeping. To drag my sweet cheeks out to the garage to blog (since my laptop needs some work done) in the freezing cold, it just ain't gonna happen. But this topic, well...it was just too good to pass up.
Yes, you read the title of this post right. 'Roids. As in, hemorrhoids.
Yup, I went there.
I like to call them "my little friends" because apparently, they are here to stay. So, say it just like Tony Montana and say hello to your little friends.
Wait. Is this TMI? Or is it toooo TMI? I mean, come on. I figure, we're blog homies, right? The dudes that read this blog can handle a post about hemorrhoids. If ya'll have stuck around after we've discussed havin' babies on the kitchen floor, fat girl undergarments, chub rub and National Geographic boobs... then I know you all can hang.
Did you know that human beings are the only species in the world afflicted by hemorrhoids? Yes, isn't that lovely? So, bears don't have 'em. Sharks don't have 'em. Turtles don't have 'em. Zebras that run around the bush don't have 'em. Even dogs that belong to Mexican families that get to eat leftover beans, wienies con huevo and potatoes don't have 'em.
Ain't this about a *bleep*.
How do you get them, you may be wondering. You either have a very poor S.A.D (standard American diet) or...all you mothers know what I'm talking about....you have been pregnant and have given birth. I belong in the latter category, six times over. So ya'll know the prognosis just can't be good for little old me.
You see, when you are pregnant, your body almost doubles it's blood capacity. This causes all of your veins to bulge and expand. So what do you think happens to the veins in your butt? Yep. It is fertile ground for the butthole demons to strike.
I have a dear friend who shall remain nameless that shares in this butt struggle with me. She says when she poos...its like passing shards of glass.
Um. Ouch.
I'm sure this isn't everyone's predicament. I can't say mine is all that dramatic. But in order to control my "pregnancy battle scars", I have to be diligent to drink lots of water, eat lots of fruit and veggies and lay off the meat. You can best believe I am aware when I have eaten too much animal. Cuz I am breaking a sweat, gripping the seat and crying, "Oh dear God, what have I done?"
And then I understand the true meaning of butt hurt.
I've investigated natural salves and creams. But let's be honest. Who wants a creamy butt? Who enjoys their butt cheeks sliding around all day when they walk? That's just annoying. Hands down, the best remedy has to refrigerated witch hazel. You soak some cotton pads in it, stuff it in your crack and you are good to go. If you are a big girl with a big booty, there is no risk of the pads falling out and causing an embarrassing scene. They are pretty snug, lemme tell ya. But the cold pads, oh chiiiiild. I can almost imagine me in some sort of cartoon, with my butt on fire, sitting in a tub of water with the smoke billowing around me.
Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Witch hazel is a natural astringent, which means it will shrink the 'roids. Every time I had a baby, my best friends were the cold witch hazel pads and that numbing coochie spray. That spray was good times.
Please disregard the fact that I said coochie from the record. Thanks you.
Motherhood is funny sometimes. You are just so excited to have this precious little being in your life so you can inhale that delicious baby smell and nibble on those cute little toes and sigh because they are so adorable like their daddy that you don't realize in exchange you are causing irreparable damage to your body.
Case in point: to your areolas, which will increase in size about 30% and never turn back to their cute, former selves; to your stomach which will expand and contract so many times it's just plain confused and now hangs limp like a bum in an alley; and your booty, which has been traumatized so much that it gets happy when you stuff it with some cold cotton pads.
O, where was a wise woman to tell me these things before I decided to have all these chil'rens? That's what I want to know. Until then...don't ask me any questions if you see a bottle of witch hazel up in my fridge!
