July 17, 2009 by skwishface
In the aftermath of my daughter’s birth, I was put under general anesthesia three times. It’s a very unsettling experience, to blink your eyes and hours have passed during which things were done to your body. I certainly trust the doctors and nurses involved in my surgeries, and don’t for a second think that anything was done to me during my little naps that I didn’t sign a consent form to have done.
But. I’m beginning to think that they switched bodies on me.
Consider the evidence. My hair was once thick and nigh-indestructible; this body’s hair falls out by the handful and is (to my eyes) noticeably thinning in spots. My skin used to be super low-maintenance – the occasional PMS zit on my chin, but nothing major – just wash, a little moisturizer, and done. Now entire regions of this body will suddenly and inexplicably become dry and flakey. This face goes through weekly phases of irritated bumpiness while the pores on the nose have turned into bucket-sized dirt magnets. The shoe size has changed from an 8 to an 8.5, sometimes even a 9 in certain styles. If I’m not careful to chew my food very thoroughly, this body may refuse to deliver a swallowed bite all the way down, lodging the masticated lump at some point along the way, necessitating the horrible realization that what won’t go down must come up. The fat distribution on this body makes no sense, filling in some places in previously unexplored unflattering ways and abandoning others that my vanity would prefer to not have deflated.
I’m telling you, this is not my body. The doctors took me out of my body and put me in this inferior, problem-riddled copy. Given their benevolence and sincere desire to help me, I can only assume that my original body was badly damaged and in need of extensive repair, so they put me in this loaner temporarily. Like when you wreck your Cadillac and they give you a rental while it’s in the shop. And that rental is a Yugo.
(not that my old body was a Cadillac. Or if it was, it was an Escalade, something big, with comfy seats and a shiny grill)
Don’t speak to me of the wildly fluctuating hormones of the post-partum existence, or suggest silly things like taking vitamin supplements and eating healthier. Your logic has no place here. No, this is clearly a case of medical bodysnatching.
I just have to drive around in this Yugo until the next time I need surgery. Then hopefully they’ll put me back.