|I am quite positive this is me
It’s 6am. I wake up, although I don’t want to, the alarm goes off and i’m pretty well drenched in sweat from some weird fucking dream I had because when I stress out, my brain goes crazy and causes LSD type trips instead of REM cycles.
I have exactly one hour to get myself dressed and presentable for the world and to an appointment to get a TENS unit strapped to my back where it will remain (for the most part) for the next 3 months. I’ve looked them up online- they don’t look huge but they do look fucking annoying. Too big to fit into a pocket of a pair of shorts meant for anyone other than a man- which would mean that I would either have to dress like a man or shove this large black conspicuous box into the waistband of my pants and pretend it’s a microphone pack and that anyone who so much as gives me a look will be told they are on a hidden camera show… right after I drop kicked them.
When I get in the car, it’s still dark out. This displeases me. It is too early to be awake in ANY timezone. I wonder to myself if the one that has been dubbed “Hot Doctor” will be the one to strap me to this torture device… I imagine he will probably laugh hysterically while doing so, just to spite me.
I am correct, it is Hot Doctor. I wonder if he has found my blog, and from there found my page.. and all my Creepy Patient notes to him. I also wonder how the FUCK he is so damn chipper at 7 in the morning. I then wonder what he is on and where I can get some.
He gets right down to business, and no, not the torrid affair kind. He feels the need to instruct me not to put the electro-stimulation pads on my “genitals”- I nearly choke on my own spit. I guess it’s better than him saying “vagina”. The level of awkward in the room is slightly uncomfortable, especially once i’m stupid enough to mention that I know sex stores do sell things meant to zap genitals. Oops.
I realize it’s protocol to explain all the things NOT to do (like not to bathe with the thing. DUH) but I still laugh at them all. I belong in the 2nd grade.
It’s then time to hook me up and show me how to work this contraption. He pulls it out of the box. It’s not what I imagined. It looks just like an iPOD. Great, so now I get to be a TENS hipster.
One gets placed on my back (by him because fuck if I can reach back there without the ability to dislocate a shoulder blade) and turned on. It fucking HURTS. I am positive he is enjoying this. I curse him, this is not what I had envisioned in my dirty housewife mind.
I get sent on my way with loose knowledge of what in the hell i’m supposed to be doing and how often (I suppose i’m still too stunned by the electrocuted genitals conversation).
I drive up to the house, hipster box in hand, and it really sinks in that there is NO way I can put the electrodes on myself. I attempt to explain it to the husband. He whines. I can feel the urge to spork him coming on strong. After the whining ceases, he finally gets them in place and I can really see what i’m working with.
A lot of wires. A spot in my back that is unreachable to me. I am going to be stuck wired from 8am-6pm. I then remember when I gave birth to Holden and broke out in a rash from the censor on my stomach. I wonder if the same thing will happen, and realize how bad that would suck. I then catch a wire on something, who the fuck knows what, but I hate that something. I now know why cats hate having their tails pulled. I regret being such a bitch to my childhood cat. I still hate cats though.
I am not happy about how hard it will be to hide the pads and wires, but once I turn that sucker up and go to zappy heaven my bitch level decreases.
Why do people give electro-shock therapy such a bad rap?
I begin to think I should insist on people calling me The Bionic Woman. Or maybe a Fembot. It would be pretty fucking awesome if my tits were machine guns.
And then my mind goes back to normal… or as normal as it gets, and I begin to wonder just how much of a whore this thing is going to be in the land of the giant rat with a bunch of crumb goblins running around and screaming?
Or will I even care if i’m electrocuting myself into oblivion?
Best compliment you can give me is to tell me you hope your future kids turn out like mine. I mean, you're lying, but it's a nice compliment
Where you should be spending your Saturday night twitch.tv/holdinholden
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