Untie the haggis and why wear pants - 40DOW - Day 1

I spent yesterday at the hospital. The hospital my son was born in. The hospital my nephews were born in. The hospital my half-siblings were born in... and some other some such relatives.

This time it was for me though, I had to get some girly things taken care of. Which reminds me, ladies... get your check ups.

Actually, that reminder is super good place to start... because that is where this journey started.

A friend posted about getting a cancer diagnosis on Facebook, and what a crazy ride it had been. I read her post, with tears in my eyes and realized it had been a few years since I had done mine.

Actually, it was more than a few years. That is what I found out when I called the doctor to schedule an appointment.

Not a smart move on my end.  Things like DES are a part of my history. I really should have known better than to let so much time lapse, but I did.

My luck is that I went in time. But I needed some work. and I got it.

So ladies, get checked. Men, make damn sure the women you like (even just a little but whom you know well enough to enquire about their vaginal health) get their lady bits checked. Regularly.

But I had fun at the hospital. If such a thing can be fun.

I hate IV's... hate them, hate them, hate them!

I invoked my grandmother by going home in a muumuu that my aunt had bought for me... a gorgeous caftan of multiple colors and GLITTER!

I can't even begin to describe its awesomeness.

I took pictures for as much as I could. (for the record, I love selfies, I love looking at them and I am OK with taking them and I am especially fond of what I laughingly call "we-we's" but most people refer to as "groupies".

My favorite we-we. ever. but only sorta, because Squink isn't in it.

For some reason we began referring to my cervix as my haggis and made a plethora of jokes about them that involved playing bagpipes and other such hilarity that probably only seems funny if you were a part of the conversation. The whole haggis thing was compounded when I get home and after much sleeping and woozying find I got an amazon email that was, ironically, all about haggis.

An email about haggis.

My arm bands had the colors of the flag of the countries I was born and grew up in... in spite of my aunt insisting my blue was really Greece (it isn't).

Amarillo, azul, y rojo (and NOT GREECE) and featured on my Instagram account

My aunt, brother, and husband picked up Squink and so he was there when I got out of recovery...

I can't tell you how much joy I felt in knowing that his little body was there waiting for me. And when he saw me he was sweet and gentle and it was beautiful.

And then I found the glitter from the muumuu had managed to get on everyone and you know life is good when you are glitter bombed. Right?

Excited that a caftan experience awaits at the end of this!

Why wear pants when you can wear a muumuu? 

~ Beth Ditto