Battling a reproductive condition can feel isolating. Pressing through my athletic adventures with endometriosis is humbling, exhausting and a test of my mental grit.
Signing up for a virtual duathlon almost a week ago seem like a good idea until my menstrual roughly cleared its throat Saturday morning. I was on day two and shamefully I woke up questioning if it was going to happen. This morning's wake up call stemmed from a burning sensation that rushed from my vagina, past my rectum and traveled up the lower parts of my back. My hands and face are slightly swollen and feet grew angry once touching the cold laminated wood floors in my bedroom. Without hesitation, I pulled back my covers while my husband was nuzzled inside and checked the white sheets -- there's no trace of my pain on the linen today. While wobbling past a hairball gift wrapped in my hallway from my cat, I started seeing doubles on the way to the bathroom. My pride wouldn't let me ask for help even though my husband would understand. Before sitting down, I checked out my blue and black checkered pajamas and felt defeated; they were not as fortunate as my sheets. I spent 45 minutes in the bathroom asking myself if doing a virtual duathlon during this pandemic and an endometriosis flare is even possible. After showering off, I reminded myself that this is not unfamiliar territory. I took two acetaminophen, allowed my husband to supervise as I made old fashioned oatmeal and glanced at my road bike on the kickstand. My virtual duathlon happened but not for a number of hours.
I caught myself slipping in mid-thought as I walked into the gym a few days ago. Before I get pissed off about the New Year resolution crowd, once upon a time I used to be them. These days, I'm still baffled about how I became the popular fat kid in the locker room when I grew up in an era that picked those people last.
Before I pick up another cup of Southern Comfort and cream soda, I thought it was best to rock out this post. Here's a half-assed disclaimer: I might say some things that's gonna sound a bit hypocritical but you might look at yourself twice because you may have said it too. Now that this is out there, let's talk about my distaste for pretentious ass New Year's resolutions and my year in reflection.
Lemme Tell You About My Vagina
Its been long enough. I have neglected this blog a bit because of my personal emotional issues and commitments as a mother. Things are starting normalize in my chaotic life. I can't think of anything better to talk about than my vagina.
Don't stop reading now. You knew this post was about my vagina when you clicked on it and perhaps, you was such a pervert that you thought I'd do some typical hippie shit like show you my burning bush and proclaim that I did it in the name of art. Oh no, my frisky little friends. Sadly, this is not why I want to talk to you about my vagina. In fact, I want to be really TMI and tell you about all of the shit that people Google search about in the running/fitness community before contacting their doctors. I'll try to be short, even though I can be long winded as fuck:
1. Why Is My Vagina Leaking?
So glad that you asked! It's very common for high intensity exercise nuts come across a bit more vaginal discharge than normal. The act of running isn't necessarily doing this but the intra-abdominal muscle might be responsible. Don't believe me? Check out this article on Runner's World. I Google searched for you. Don't say I didn't give you anything. You're welcome.
2. Bruh, my vagina is itchy as fuck!
Latoya Shauntay Snell
For my pretentious ass bio, check out the about me page but for anyone interested in who I really am, make me a good meal at your house and I'll tell you a dope ass story.
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