Tomorrow I'm having surgery on my ladyparts. That's right, kids. My uterus, which is so lovely it should be called a cute-erus! Ha!
But let's get real for a second. I have a pretty serious case of endometriosis, along with polycystic ovaries and a tendency toward ovarian cysts. This ol' bod's pretty much a failure in the ladyparts department. I'm having my second laparoscopy in a little over a year, which is not supposed to happen. In fact, while recovering from my surgery last September, the surgeon said, "These incisions aren't zippers! You can't possibly need this procedure for another 10-15 years!" He's not my surgeon this time, because fucking liars aren't supposed to have scalpels at their disposal.
I've been told that I would be a candidate for a hysterectomy... if I were ten years older and had already had a child. See, I have all the medical symptoms, and my life is pretty much complete shit because of this disease. The thing is, doctors just don't want to yank out a 20something's baby hammock. They're afraid I'll sue them or they'll be marred somehow in the eyes of the other doctors. I go to an abortionist for my gynecological needs, she's doing my surgery tomorrow, and she (the baby killer) won't yank out my babymaker. My unwanted baby, yes. The Tupperware it comes in, no.
But I want a mini-meeee! Look how cute: