I was visiting Random and Odd this afternoon and came across something that gave me pause. On today’s blog post there was a sentence about wanting to avoid researching the symptoms of a disease, because, as the author writes, “the last time I googled something to make sure I spelled it right, I found out I had it.”
Yikes.
Having done some research recently myself, I hope that I do not befall the same google-diagnosed fate as that which afflicted Kristine at Random and Odd. I am scared, dear hannihaus readers, because I, your mistress, am not well.
No, I’m not referring to my mental status. I’m always ¾ to cuckoo – that’s my M.O. There’s actually been something else bothering me the last few months. You see, I had an accident … it involved pilates and required endurance and grace (both of which I lack).
I just knew I shouldn’t have attempted the position. I really did know better. Somewhere deep inside me I knew that if I did this crazy thing, shit was going to go down, and it was going to go down in a big way.
And as I sat in my living room that sunny weekend morning, bent up like two sides of an isosceles triangle, I thought “Maybe this is a bad idea.” With my legs raised in the air – raised high as hands in church, and with arms outstretched toward legs, I found I could balance my entire weight on my tailbone. “Eureka!” I cried… and then, 10 seconds later, I felt a sharp pain in my posterior – a discomfort in my derriere, if you will.
“Oh crap,” I thought, “I just effed up my ass!”
So yeah, I’ve been struggling with my ass ache since at least June, and I recently decided I should probably figure out how to fix it. So I googled “butt pain in my ass crack” (or something similar, anyway), and I came across this horrifying forum where hundreds of people had written in about their funked up fannies.
I had to stop after reading about this woman who had a hindquarter headache that sounded a lot like mine. After months of suffering she went to a chiropractor who told her she had a condition where her tailbone was slightly curved. To provide some relief, the doctor needed to adjust (read: crack) the curvature bi-annually.
I was reading this story, thinking, “There’s no way I’m going to drop trau in a chiropractor’s office, so he can reach between my cheeks and do some snippy snaps.”
“There’s just no way,” I thought, “that when the receptionist asks ‘and what are you having done today?’ I’m gonna say ‘I’m here for my annual butt crack, please.”
Having had the bejeesus scared out of me by the butt crack scenario, and being a New Age Mama, I opted for a more natural alternative that does not require I drive to, and then pay for, someone to put their hands in my patooty.
And that’s why, now three times a day, I’ve been slathering an herbal extract in the far reaches of my rump.
I’m using something called Knitbone Extract, which is really just comfrey, an herb that has been used to speed up the healing of burns, bruises, fractures, etc. for ages.
The comfrey has definitely provided me some relief, but still, I think it’s not a permanent solution. Angelface, sick of my constant moaning and groaning has offered his diagnosis by saying, “I think you have hemorrhoids.”
I am completely disgruntled by his assertion that just because there’s a little boo-boo something on my ba-dunk-a-dunk-dunk, the only probable cause is swollen anal veins.
Next time he brings it up, I’m just gonna say “Of course I have hemorrhoids, precious. If you’re saying having hemorrhoids is synonymous with ‘pain the ass’, well then I have three – two of them are the cats, and the third one, why, that’s you!”
So yeah, long story short: my butt hurts. How about you, dear hannihaus readers? Let’s talk about ass, specifically, yours.
Britney Spears: Oops she did it again.
