A Moment in Pop Culture: #Snooki

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E Online is reporting that Snooki is 3-4 months pregnant. Only time will tell if the baby comes out just like its Mother- tan with acrylic nails, and a venereal disease. Something tells me that her boyfriend, Jionni will spare no expense on a paternity test. Can we blame him?

Acne & Ignorance- A Dangerous Combo

I’ve joked before about my Terminal End Stage Acne Disease (TESAD), and while that was a bit of an exaggeration (and perhaps a made up disease) I’m still a thirty-one year old with the complexion of a fifteen year old.

My dermatologist has opted to put me on Accutane, which is a medication with serious implications to a fetus, should you become pregnant. I’m not at risk for pregnancy for reasons that are none of your business, but the FDA wants to make doubly sure that no one gets pregnant while on this medication. In addition to the rigorous hoops you have to jump through to prove you aren’t pregnant, you are also required to sign more paperwork than required for buying a house.

My favorite part of this whole process is making sure that everyone knows what causes pregnancy in a booklet called, Separating the Myths from the Facts. I do realize that the majority of people who take this medication are teens, but I was greatly disturbed to realize what some of today’s myths are. I’ll share a few with you. Keep in mind the language used is targeted toward teenagers.

Myth:

• You cannot get pregnant if you do it standing up.
• You cannot get pregnant if you have sex underwater.
• “My partner said he is sterile because he had mumps, and he hasn’t gotten anyone else pregnant.”
• Sexually active means you have to move during sex. If I do not move, I cannot get pregnant. (My personal favorite. This particular myth makes me want to find a teenager and punch them in the gonads.)

If today’s youth actually subscribe to these myths, then they have problems far worse than acne to attend to. This is why there is a show called 16 and Pregnant. Maybe somewhere there is a chemist coming up with an acne treatment that also causes sterility. 

A Baby Story

This past weekend marked Luke's second birthday, and what kind of mom would I be if I didn't pay some sort of homage to his birth. Two short years ago, Luke shot out of my pelvis and into this world like a stripper popping out of a birthday cake. He all but said, "Ta-da!" When all was said and done, I was left with a healthy baby boy and a tear all the way from my V-hole to my B-hole. My nether regions were fit for a straight to DVD horror movie. "Have you seen the new horror flick, Frankenstein's Vagina?" Let me tell you, it's scary and I was about two bolts and a zipper away.

After almost a year passed without healing, my doctor suggested I see a vagina therapist. I couldn't see how my vagina laying on a sofa, while pouring its heart out over an unfresh childhood could help. He then explained that it was a type of physical therapy, so I opted in. The whole way there I kept picturing my sister to the south on a tiny little treadmill while people stood around shouting, "You can do it!"

As usual, things didn't turn out as I expected. The therapy hurt. Bad. I'm pretty sure a portion of my therapy is banned in several states, but after a couple of months I was better. By Luke's first birthday I was back to my old self again, and just in time to hear, "When are y'all going to have another one?" I still try not to cringe when I hear that question. Don't get me wrong. I love my son more than life itself. He is hilarious and has more shtick than I could ever dream of. He is amazing from the top of his strawberry blonde head to his dirty little toes. I would take a bullet, lay down in front of a train, or even attend a UT football game for him. But more babies? Not. Going. To. Happen.

Texting with Caution and April Foolery

One week ago today, I received a text message from my little sister. It stated plainly, "I just left the doctor and I'm two months pregnant."

"What?" I thought. My little sister, Leigh, just graduated from college and is, in no way, ready to have a baby. I immediately began calling and texting her, but I got no response. About that time, our eldest sister called me. "Ummm, have you talked to Leigh lately?" she asked. As it turned out, she had gotten the same message too.

"I can't believe this!" I told her. "She didn't even call us to tell us about this. Are we that low on the totem pole that all we get is a crappy little text message. She didn't even use an exclamation mark OR put a sad face." My older and wiser sister interrupted, "Oh crap!" she said. "It's April fool's day."

A sly April fool's prank wouldn't be out of the ordinary coming from me, but from sweet little Leigh, it had taken us by surprise. Immediately our tone changed from that of concerned sisters to revenge plotting renegades. I knew she had some major payback coming, but it would require some thought and delicate planning.

Imagine my elation a few hours later, when I heard that in her attempt to send the false pregnancy announcement to me, and only me, her scheming little fingers had pushed, "send to all." With one wrong push of a button she had notified scores of people that she and her boyfriend were going to be parents. Aunt, co-workers, friends and, of course, my parents ALL received the message. Suffice it to say, she had some explaining to do and quite a few calls to return. I felt justified in the end. Her punishment had definitely fit her crime, and most importantly, I had the last laugh. In the future I'm sure she will text with caution lest she receive another quick return on her cell phone karma. Leave the pranks to me, little sis. I'm the professional. :)