To finish catching us up to present, I went to another specialist -- one that has good bedside manner, unlike Dr. Beeyotch -- and he told me that my options are limited. Well . . . really there's only one option. An abdominal hysterectomy. And not just the kind with the potentially cute horizontal scar. Nope. I get the pleasure of having the enormous vertical scar.
If I'm being honest, I've never felt uglier in my life. I've been feeling pretty ugly for a while, and this has done nothing to help the situation.
Again, if I'm being honest, part of it has to do with my boyfriend. Not really his fault, I guess. It would just be helpful if he admitted it. Although my boyfriend has generally dated some pretty unattractive/trashy women, he wasn't initially attracted to me. He claims he was attracted to me in the beginning (largely because he misremembers most things). It never even occurred to him to ask me out. The only reason (and I do mean ONLY) that we even got together the first time for cocktails was because I happened to IM him some weeks later when I was looking for something to do. Even then it wasn't a date. My rule is that if I paid for my own drinks, it's not a date.
Now . . . I think he grew to like me as a person, and we make great partners in life matters, but I don't think I actually do it for him physically. He denies it, but I've heard him say it when he didn't think I was listening (I keep my old Palm Pre in hope that I can one day retrieve that voicemail and have him listen to his own voice vocalize the very thing he denies, but it appears to be gone forever). I've seen him actually attracted to people and never has he looked at me like he does those women. Never. I realize that I'm good partner material, but I wish I could be the person that he finds beautiful. He tries to convince me that he feels otherwise, but I know better. Part (most) of me thinks he should hold out for someone that he finds attractive, but he sees things differently.
You know what? There's more, but it's a long story, and I don't really need to write it out and remind myself of it -- because I get irritated every time I discuss it -- but let's just say that this relationship hasn't necessarily been good for my self esteem. Let's suffice it say that I haven't felt attractive in a long time.
And for me? I'm not even close to being the most beautiful person in the world and I know this (not even close), but it's really important that I feel attractive. I've made a lot of mistakes with choices that I've made in men, but the common theme in all of them -- aside from the fact that they're all over 6' with nice smiles -- is that all were intensely attracted to me. I knew it from the beginning, and it was intoxicating and empowering.
Granted many of them couldn't keep their dicks in their pants, but there was something to be said for the fact that I could really FEEL their attraction to me -- like the wind on my face. They didn't stare at other women when I was with them -- none of that. They didn't have the best behaviors when I wasn't with them, but when I was, some of them made me feel really good. When they cheated, it didn't hurt so badly because none of them were great choices and our relationships didn't have sustainability which I knew almost from the moment we began dating. What hurt more was that I no longer had THAT feeling.
This relationship is very different. But you know what? This isn't a forum for me to compare men. And when I think about it even more, men don't really matter. This is about how me, and how this unattractive feeling I have is only going to be exacerbated by the fact that my stomach is going to be cut in half and the organ that designates me as a woman is going to be removed. I'm trying to prepare myself for it, but I'm not really sure that there's any amount of preparation that will make this easier.
Men don't really get it. I'm getting something removed. So what? Get over it. I'll be just fine, and I'm overdramatizing this. My male friends attempt to be sympathetic, but as sweet as they can be, I know they don't really get it.
And maybe I will be just fine. I hope so. I hope I escape this surgery with no side effects, and the best possible scar with no weight gain or emotional issues. I really do, because then I can read this blog in a few months and think of how ridiculous I was to think that this 4-hour surgical episode would be a life-altering event. Or maybe there will be a miracle and I won't have to have this surgery. Or perhaps I make the radical decision NOT to have this surgery, and I take my chances that my fibroids will stop growing altogether. If I'm lucky, maybe they'll actually shrink and stop damaging my neighboring internal organs.
Those are all lovely thoughts, but really? Chances are that none of the things mentioned in the previous paragraph will come to pass (although I am close to making the radical decision not to have the surgery).
What is more likely to happen? Is that I turn into an upset invalid with a nasty scar and weight that I can't get rid of. Nobody will ever find me attractive again.
All this to say, I'm well on the road to ugly and old.
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