Hi, Let's Talk About My Hemorrhoids! By Me, Rebecca Schoenkopf!

Hi, Let's Talk About My Hemorrhoids! By Me, Rebecca Schoenkopf!

If you are related to me by marriage, stop reading this immediately. If you are related to me by blood or not at all, pull up a pillow, we are going to be talking about my seven-months-pregnant, thrombosed-hemorrhoidal, still cute and perky as long as you're not looking in the wrong place, ass. Where is the wrong place in which you might be looking, say if you were my husband and you were having doggy-style sex with me? TRICK QUESTION! You, my husband, who ARE NOT READING THIS, are not having sex with me, because of my ass. [Also, TRIGGER WARNING, FOR GROSSNESS.]

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"Rebecca, how is your ass?" you have been ass-king (whee! dad jokes!) and the answer is "IT IS VERY BAD, THANK YOU!"

Let's talk about what a baby does to your ass. First, a baby might make your ass bigger! This is good. It makes fat stores of food for you and the baby, plus Americans have recently found their inner love of butts, thank you Miss Kardashian. As my ass needed a bit of cushion, this is a fine development, and I have no complaints. Second, the baby, who at seven months weighs about as much as a chuck roast, is rolling back and forth on your intestines and is making it hard for you to poo, so then you get a hemorrhoid. Hemorrhoids are burny and itchy and no fun, and nobody likes a hemorrhoid. Like, there is NO HEMORRHOID FETISH anywhere in the world, that is how much no fun there are, and there are fetishes for killing mice with high-heeled shoes :(

But you tell someone you have a hemorrhoid -- and why not tell them? Why are our pregnant bodies so off-limits to people knowing what is up with them? And why do you (not I) hide your periods too, while we're at it? Why not, when people ask how you are today, say "I am menstruating, thank you!" That's what I did, in the long ago days when I menstruated. Because feminism.

Where were we? You tell someone you have a hemorrhoid, and they are like, mmmm, sucks, try witch hazel, and then you have to sexplain, NO, this is a THROMBOSED hemorrhoid, not a regular hemorrhoid, and IT HAS TURNED PURPLE and I had to GO TO THE ER to get it sliced open with a No. 11 scalpel, and then the ER doctor SQUOZE IT LIKE A ZIT to get the bad blood clot out my butt (oh, wait, it is ALREADY out my butt, it is on the outside of my butt and looks like ... a snail? Sure, a snail), and the whole time at the ER you are laughing and being charming (or I am anyway) because the one thing you want is the ER staff's approval, because you are not like those other idiots who show up at the ER all like, "hey doc, can you look at this thing on my butt?" and you are very brave and also self-effacing (is it okay I showed up at the ER to have you look at my butt?) and you tell them you are already on Vicodin because you had Vicodin left over from your wisdom teeth a year ago, which proves you are not a drug seeker or you would not have any Vicodin left over from your wisdom teeth a year ago, and the ER staff there-there's you and agrees you are not a drug seeker. Or maybe you are. Anyway, they agreed I wasn't, and they gave me more Vicodin and something to help me poo. After taking the scalpel and the squeezing to the thing on my butt. OH! and the Lidocaine injection before the scalpeling and squeezing, which HOO FUCKING BOY DOES THAT BURN LIKE FUCK!

Also, they say the pregnant ladies report to them that the thrombosed hemorrhoids hurt worse than labor, and they poor-you you, and you go home, and take your Vicodin, and you lie around and whine to your PRINCE of a husband and he is SO NICE TO YOU and then a day or two later, you are fine, and the hemorrhoid is still there, on the outside of your butt looking sluggy, but it no longer hurts, and you take what you can get, as long as it is not doggy-style, because your husband doesn't need to see that!

It is not appealing.

And then you spend the next three weeks playing with the baby in your babymaker, she is very playful! She rolls around and does tricks, like Flipper! She punches you all over the place, like, if you had nads, she would be punching you in them! It is fun! And then one day, you take your Sunday drive to Helena, Montana (shut up, it is a thing to do), and by the end of the long drive, your butt hurts, but you have just been sitting on it too long, until the next day when you pull out your trusty hand mirror and see a SECOND THROMBOSED HEMORRHOID has popped out on the other side of your anus from the first thrombosed hemorrhoid (which at any rate is no longer thrombosed), and they are twinsies, and your anus looks like Angelina Jolie's mouth.

So you go BACK TO THE FUCKING ER, and this time your ob-gyn is already there doing something else, so he is the one who cuts open your ass and squeezes your blood clot, but he does not give you any more Vicodin, which is fine because you don't ask for any because you had some left over from last time you got your ass scalpeled (BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT A DRUG SEEKER) until two days later when YOU DON'T have any left over anymore and you call his office to Oliver Twist-style beg for some more drugs, but the nurses don't call you back till closing time and then they're like "oooohhhhhhh, yeah, well we will call you in the morning and tell you whether you can have drugs, in the meantime have you tried Ibuprofen?" and you are PRETTY FUCKING MAD AT THOSE NURSES, and your husband might be kind of over all of it, including the whining and the beached whaleness and the marrying of you -- who can know? if he says he isn't he is probably lying! -- and now it is 9:45 the next day and who has not called back? The nurses have not called back! And that's when you send your husband out to the mean streets of Missoula, Montana, to find you some crack.

And that is what happens to your butt on pregnancy, it is nature's miracle funtimes, pregnancy is awesome, boy this is great, fuck you all, the end.

What You Can Do About Your Thrombosed Hemorrhoids

  • Take a bath.
  • Take another bath.
  • Sit on some ice.
  • Stay very very still and do not move ever.
  • Do you happen to have some Lidocaine solution around from when your husband had stomatitis? Wipe some on your ass with a cotton ball. It won't really help, but it is something to do.
  • Take another bath.
  • Tuck's medicated pads? Sure why not.
  • Eat drugs.
  • Send money, for drugs.
Rebecca Schoenkopf

Rebecca Schoenkopf is the owner, publisher, and editrix of Wonkette. She is a nice lady, SHUT UP YUH HUH. She is very tired with this fucking nonsense all of the time, and it would be terrific if you sent money to keep this bitch afloat. She is on maternity leave until 2033.


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