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So as I am sick again I went to the school doctor, which in itself, is exciting. All is fine and dandy, fill out a few forms etc and voila ...I'm in the doctor room, check up, clinic room things. You know that place...oh, examination room - yes, that's it. Anyways, so she checks out my throat which apparently is in very bad condition, her exact words are "inflamed, red, with white spots"...And I get a prescription. All is well until she asks me a few more questions, just to help fill out my medical history.
" What's your family medical history?" "Blah Blah Blah"
"Have you had any surgeries?" "Blah Blah"
" Are you sexually active?" "Cough, gasp" Sad look - "No"
"Have you ever been?" embarrassed look - "No"
Puzzled look from Doctor...And that's it.
I'm a virgin...At eighteen and that makes me a freak. I don't think the doctor believed me. I don't know if I would have believed me. And for some strange reason I'm embarrassed by this fact.
It doesn't really help that after the appointment I ranted to Erin, who decided it would be a good idea to scream in the middle of the student centre "SO WHAT YOU'VE NEVER HAD SEX"...More embarrassment.
Which leads me to a paradox - I'm glad I'm a virgin and I know I'm in the right but...I'm slightly ashamed of my virginity in face of a society where having sex is the biggest, best and most important thing ever. ***on a side note - the kids in that picture look 13! I bet they can't even spell abstinence***
Well it has been a week since I have returned home and the process of pulling my life back together continues. Todays Edition: Laundry Day.Now, I think its fairly common for one to dread laundry day and I am certainly no exception. My wonderful building along with its charming slanted floors and non-existant elevator, has not a laundry room. This poses some difficulties.Suppose someone who shall remain nameless...waits until the very last moment to do her laundry. The very last moment, being in the world of undergarment hierarchy, the day when she has to wear a thong. So this person, now wearing a thong against her will and better judgement has to procure other articles of clothing so that she can drag all her articles of clothing down four flights of stairs and down the street a bit and into the laundry mat without getting arrested. So she ends up looking like a hobo, doing laundry. Now back to that bit of dragging things down stairs...this is fun...really - it really really is fun. Still don't believe me? Good. I was lying. I...I mean she...has to put her clothing, after sorting it, into bags. A Price Chopper Bag for her undergarments and socks, a black garbage bag for everything considered "dark" and a duffel bag for whites and lights + her purse with laundry detergent and fabric softener and dryer sheets and her poli sci text book in it. All this, down the stairs. Well today I, of course meaning she, was creative. And by creative I mean full of destructive tendencies. She...oh I give up...I threw the garbage bag full of clothes down the full four flights of stairs, which is just as much fun as you would think it would be. I was tired of carrying that blasted bag, and its not like it contained anything breakable so I tossed, it fell and was waiting for me when I caught up with it. Now, one thing about laundry mats is that generally speaking they come equipped with a creepy middleaged man - the kind that likes to stare at young thangs. Today, of course, was no exception. Luckily, I got through this ordeal without him trying to communicate with me or sniffing my said undergarments. He did stare though. Ick.Well laundry takes long and its good to have it home and clean and folded...not put away but thats evidently for another time. Unfortunately, laundry has a terrible habit of coming back. Laundry is never done - the clothes I am wearing are now considered in need of wash...which means I have laundry to do and I always will. How awful. This most be how nudism started - someone fed up with always having laundry to do. Hmmm, interesting.
