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My grandmother is a crafting fiend. . . . A few years back someone taught her how to make these adorable little flower pots with fake flowers in them. The flowers were made with rolled up condoms.
My late grandmother saved EVERYTHING: rubber bands, scraps of foil, twist ties, etc., and had a place for each of these things. She called rubber bands "rubbers" and it would never fail to crack me and my little brother right up when she'd ask one of us to "reach behind you and get me a rubber out of that drawer."
OT: It was probably the spermicide that was giving her the infections.
I happen to have a mild allergy to nonoxynol-9, which is what they use with condoms. It took me rather a while to figure out what was doing it, since I have never outside of that period of time have ever had any problems.
After my sister was born it was to dangerous for my mother to have anymore children so my parents did everything possible to not have anymore. My mother even had her tubes tied. My mother also got alot of yeast infections. They used condoms until i was 10 which was when i found their stash.... I knew what they where, and thought that if i hide them they wouldn't um.... well lets jsut say this ended badly for me and has scarred my pysche forever.
My grandmother is a crafting fiend. She gets into a new craft every once in a while and goes hog wild with it. A few years back someone taught her how to make these adorable little flower pots with fake flowers in them. The flowers were made with rolled up condoms. You aint seen nothing until you've had this experience:
My Uncle and I took her to a big fancy sex shop downtown, so she could get fancy colored ones. My 75 yo grandma is not paying attention to the other people staring at her while my uncle and I are trying very hard not to dissolve into hilarity on the spot. She bends over into this big barrel and is going through them enthusiastically with both hands, saying things like
Oooh! A silver one! And gold ones! I've never seen gold ones before!
Rick, honey, see if you can find any yellow ones, I promised your sister I'd make some yellow ones for her.
TPG, look at this baby blue! Isn't it pretty! Do you think your Mom would like this?
and so on.
The hot gay guy behind the counter is just staring at her in shock, and the other customers have all stopped their shopping, flirting, checking each other out and conversations to stare at her, open mouthed. My uncle and I are leaning on each other for support and trying our damnedest to keep straight faces. She eventually assembled a collection of about 30 of them, all brightly colored, purchased them very cheerfully, and thanked the guy profusely (she's very sweet and polite).
This has got to be my favorite memory of her. And people wonder where I got my eccentricities from!
Anyway, here's a pic of what she was making, so you can see what I'm talking about. look at the pic on the left, top row:
If I weren't sure it'd be just my luck that there was an undercover cop nearby, I'd turn to her and say "Lord, no, lady! Sex is disgusting! These are for my cocaine balloons! The ones the clown gives me keep popping before I can even get the horse through customs!"
Or something else equally borderline insane just to scare her into possibly fleeing.
PCOS is common, as is endometriosis. Either of them are very good reasons for not wanting to use hormonal birth control (having /just/ the right hormones might help the condition, but having enough to prevent pregnancy might screw you over. Or not. See a doctor - preferably an endocrinologist of some sort. Where was I? Oh yes...)
I've suspected I have PCOS for a while. When I finally had health insurance again, I talked to my girly-doctor, and he said he "treats" it with BCPs. I've read enough to know that they don't actually treat it, just masks some of the symptoms. So - see a GOOD doctor. Not one who thinks it's only worth treating if you're planning on getting pregnant soon.
Worst thing a customer ever said to me was when I was late opening the store one morning (for the first time ever, I think).
"Out late partying, huh?"
I ignored her, but many a time I've thought back and wished I had replied "No, up late crying and missing my dad so much I couldn't sleep at all because it's only been a month since he died, you heartless bitch."
Entirely the truth, too.
What really pissed me off? I'm not the type at all to go out partying or drinking or whatever - so for her to automatically make that assumption just because I looked absolutely exhasted and was in my mid-20s? That was insulting.
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