Monday, 14 December 2015

It's hot in here


Let me tell you an amusing story.
Imagine you are going into work, not feeling that hot (but also feeling hot in some places - you'll understand in a minute), and you are fortunate enough to have an expert on hand who can help you. Handy, right? What a lucky break.

Well, imagine this: Your co-worker asking you about your sex life, and you have to answer him.
Which is perfectly legit, because he is a doctor and you are a patient at this moment, but still absolutely mortifying. 
That was my Sunday. Sunday-Funday my ass. 

Before I continue, let me warn you that there is some TMI about to happen. If any guys are reading this, now is your opportunity to leave. Lady stuff is about to be revealed. 

Still here? Well, don't say I didn't warn you. 

Ladies, I got my very first UTI. I'm using the acronym to protect the innocent, but you all know what I'm talking about. 
I managed to get through 36 years of perfectly happy peepee-parts, and now this happened. No wonder the doctor asked uncomfortable questions. 

Since the obvious causes have been ruled out (seriously guys, nothing untoward was going on), I am now wondering what the cause may be.

Could it be stress?
I'm stressed right now. There are countdowns everywhere. That's the problem with Christmas: The countdowns. 
People exclaiming every day: "Can you believe it's the 13th already?" "Can you believe it's the 14th already?" Yes, I can, please shut up now. It gives me anxiety. Advent calendars are all over the place, taunting me. I ate mine a long time ago in an effort to eliminate its accusing stare. (Also, it was a special one with delicious fancy chocolates. But I finished it for the greater good, not for the chocolate. Obviously.)

People keep asking me if I'm ready for Christmas, and I'm not sure. What does that even mean? I still have to buy some presents, haven't figured out what exactly to cook, and have the nagging feeling I'm forgetting something. So I'm guessing not.

Throughout it all I have been neglecting my yoga practice, which made me feel guilty before Google decided to mock me:

 
Really, Google? Was that necessary?

No wonder my lady parts aren't happy. It seems that they have decided that I need to chill out for a bit. (Literally. Ouch.)

Well played, body, well played.




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