nausea is my punishment

Fucking 2012.

Alright. I have Chlamydia.

Finally having worked out the health insurance stuff, I had an appointment earlier this week to get a current birth control prescription and to get tested for STIs, because I haven’t since my break up 7 months ago. Two days and two frustrating doctor lectures later, CHLAMYDIA!

The last time I got tested was just after I became serious with my now ex-fiance, so 4 years ago, and the (not really) funny thing about this is, is that I had chlamydia then as well. It’s rather common, I’m going to have to conclude. Rob took in in stride I think, and if I remember right, he hadn’t caught it from me, and thus didn’t need treatment.

The difference between now and then is that I can’t say this time that I have been 100 percent responsible. Since I’m confessing something taboo already, might as well keep going. I have had unprotected sex, and more than once, and with more than one person, with in the space of the last few months. I don’t want to make excuses for why. (They would boil down to I was in a dark place.) I did, is the point.

My dear friend said, “Don’t be angry. just learn from it. You dodged a bullet.” But that’s not an exactly accurate metaphor, what I did was found someone with a gun and said to them, “It’s ok if you want to try and shoot me.” Or actually, just failed to say and insist, “Wait, I don’t wanna play with your gun that way.” (This is a lovely picture I’m painting here.) And then I failed the same shitty way with an entirely different person. Ugh, I’m the worst.

It’s hard for me to admit this, which I guess is why I’m admitting it. I’m a person who certainly knows better. It’s curious though, because the average sexually-active person knows better, yet plenty of people fail to use condoms. Some on a regular basis. And WHY? I think the regular risky-sex doing people I do sort of understand. It’s harder for me to accept that someone (me or a woman like me) who is educated, progressive, and otherwise assertive, would…let it slide. Would put sexual gratification/some dude’s “comfort”/avoiding momentary awkwardness over something as important as wellness.

I already swallowed a dose of Zithromax, followed by my pride (as I filled in both partners in crime via text, that is). I probably feel about as sick as my seven month old nephew did on Christmas day, when he was taking an antibiotic as well (but not for an STD) and was moved to vomit the entire contents of his stomach onto the table at the Chinese restaurant we were eating at.

I’ll live. These were the other not cool aspects of the Getting Tested for Sex Diseases Process:

  • 50 minute wait before my first appointment
  • Matronly female doctor from first appointment who… gave me the news that I’m obese; enthusiastically consulted her BMI chart, despite that BMI is bullshit; explained to me, as if I must not know, what a balanced meal and proper meal is; told me to “stop drinking sodas” when I don’t drink soda; and when I tried to speed up the nutrition tutorial by explaining that, lately, I hardly ever even eat any meal, told me “you should eat three meals a day always” or your body goes into “starvation mode” because I must not know that either, and must be skipping meals and eating crappy foods like ramen for fun and not out of necessity.
  • They tell you that you need to schedule a follow up about your test results, but can’t tell you why until they see you in person, then (since you have a job) you get to spend two days wondering what bad news you are going to get. Hope you aren’t a neurotic person, that could be a rough two days, buddy.
  • Similarly condescending physician’s assistant from my second appointment who says “we have to talk to you every time about it” like they would if I were a smoker, you see, in defense of her colleague’s unsolicited and unhelpful information last time. Funny, this isn’t my first time at the fat rodeo, and my other doctors tended to respect me enough to say something like, “It would be preferable if you were at a lower weight. Do you want to talk about your options?” and leave it at that if “Nope” was my response. As opposed to someone who doesn’t ask anything about my eating and exercise habits, nor my feelings and concerns.
  • That this PA also explained to me that should I enter into a relationship, before going without condoms, we should both show our test results to each other. (Fucking genius, such a novel idea that I had never encountered despite having done exactly that 4 years ago!) And you know, how it might not seem like a big deal, since it’s so easy to treat, but how it’s actually no joke to have Chlamydia. (CAUSE I WAS ENJOYING IT SO DAMN MUCH that I might need a reality check! I just roam around hoping to be penetrated with infected penises,  you see, so that I might come take advantage of my cheap healthcare and the joy of antibiotics, just cause it gives me a thrill! I think I’m invincible and so I don’t worry about protecting myself ever! I, despite seeking out testing after making myself vulnerable to infection, don’t understand that my behavior has consequences!)

I don’t like admitting that I caught a very common, somewhat innocuous illness, because I feel like it makes a case for every sex-hating asshole that it’s wrong to be slutty. But I don’t want to be ashamed when, it’s not really wrong. It was stupid of me that I was unsafe (not that I couldn’t have gotten it anyway) but I don’t want to be ashamed for having a few moments of stupidity either. So. CHLAMYDIA!