Skip to main content

So Long, Ass Grape

I am a writer. You can tell by my fancy blog. No, but seriously. I am.  I don't know if I've always been keen on using analogies because I'm a writer or if I'm a writer because I've always been keen on using analogies. I'm not sure which, if either of those, is actually relevant to the rest of this post except for the fact that this post is probably going to be riddled with them. I mean, it's what I do.

Now, if you're sitting there asking yourself what an ass grape is, you're in luck. You'll probably know what it is both literally and figuratively by the end of this post. Now I have to warn you, I am prone to oversharing. My roommate's daughter things that means being too nice, but in my world it means that I'll probably tell you more than you want to really want to know. If you're not keen on knowing the medical procedure associated with removing an ass-grape, you should skip ahead.

So, apparently there are a few types of hemorrhoids (look, I warned you)--one of them is external. I guess at one point, I had one. And when it went away I was left with a skin tag. And without getting too graphic (I know, too late), I'll let you draw your own conclusion why I call it an ass-grape.

Anyway...I got sick of rocking the docked tail look, so Friday I had it taken off. The crew at the Taylor Station Surgical center was amazing.  I can't tell you a time I actually enjoyed going in for a surgical procedure.  Remind me to tell you about it next time you're around. It's kind of a funny story. I've never had anyone ask me to name something they were cutting off before.

*Post-Medical Ass-Grape Removal stuff a.k.a. The Metaphorical and Allegorical Shit Starts Here*

If you skipped ahead, I'm pretty sure you made the right choice. One of the things that the nurse asked, was if I took my little tail home, what would I name it? Someone in the room suggested Quentin. This made everyone laugh and for a good few minutes took my mind off of the fact that there were no less than seven people looking at my bare backside.

I can confirm, though, that I now have sound medical verification that despite what you may have heard from anyone I've ever dated or been married to, my head is no longer up my ass.

Oh...the name I chose for the ass-grape?  And yes, I did get them to commit to at least try to get 'ass-grape' used as the new official medical term (at the very least, I'm sure they all got a good laugh from it for the rest of the day).  But yes, I did come up with a name for it.

Doubt.

You see, as a writer and all-around creative type, naming it Doubt was really the logical choice. I mean, Doubt was constantly riding my ass. And while it didn't always cause physical pain, it was always there as a reminder. And true or not, it was never a far thought from me that no matter what I did to cover it up, sooner or later someone would see. They would see that Doubt was right there. It was a part of me, no matter what. Attached, grown out of me.

No more.

After a couple of very painful, burning shots to numb my buttocks, Doubt was removed with surgical precision. The physical piece is gone. Send off somewhere to be tested to make sure the Doubt wasn't cancerous. Something I've lived with away too long

As weird as it sounds, I felt a sense of relief wash over me once it was gone. Oh, I know there will still be some figurative residual left, but I know now that Doubt has been removed to the best of the surgeon's ability.

The rest is up to me.

And with that, I'm off to bed.

Have a wonderful evening and rest of your weekend my friends.

Peace,
Todd

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Marriage Material??

I had a friend call me today, fuming. I consider myself a good listener on most days. Considering that I was out of town on a work trip and doing absolutely nothing in my hotel room, my listening game was on-point.

She recounted the exchange that sent her off. I will spare you some of the more personal details, but the gist was, at one point, the dude-bro she was talking to flat out told her that she wasn’t marriage material.

Torn between wanting to be a supportive friend and being completely gobsmacked, I felt her frustration. No. That’s not quite right. I didn’t feel the same frustration she felt. I’m approaching what some consider middle age. I’m white. I’m primarily interested in women. Oh, and I have a penis. So...no, I can never truly feel the same frustration she was feeling. Or an anger that comes from the same place her anger came from. No matter how in touch I am witn my feminine side (whatever the fuck that actually means).

Instead, the frustration and anger I was feeling w…

Out of Sorts

Not sure what my deal is today. I got up this morning to go for a walk and it was spitting rain, but no biggie. My thriftstore Nikes were kind of hurting my feet, so that didn't help. But it felt good to go for the walk (other than the hurting feet). And it's all going well...and then I get into work and just turn into PMS-Man.  I don't know what my deal is. I just feel bitchy this morning and I'm not sure why. So..um. Yeah. That's all I got.

Post Con-Fusion

It's 5:40 AM on a Wednesday. I have been up for an hour. I have an outline for a work in progress that I intended to work on this morning. I was in the middle of a chapter that I started at lunch and had every intention of continuing this morning. But, much like me, it seems the characters wanted to sleep in today. They wanted to just hunker under the covers as the rain danced its hypnotic melody on my roof. The swoosh swoosh swoosh of the ceiling fan keeping time with the rest of the nocturnal orchestra.

So, I shifted gears. I am taking  a course on getting more words on the page. Something that I want to do need to do if I am to get all of these books that are floating around in my head out in to the world. It's not so much that I think the whole world will love and adore them, although I certainly hope that is the case. No, it's more the fact that it's getting crowded up there. I need to get these words on the page for my own sanity as much as anything else.

Sanity,…