...but my uterus is plenty moist. Also, I hate the word moist, but, for lack of a better, even more disgusting word, moist will do.
See, I have been expelling the contents of said uterus for 21 straight days. Twenty. One. Straight.
The Good Doctor warned me that the old girl wouldn't play nice after the endometrial biopsy, but, I thought she meant that it would just, I don't know, close up shop or something. But, nooooo, apparently "not playing nice" means that she will weep for her lost youth on the daily, making me hyper vigilant about the use of feminine hygiene products and more selective about the underwear that I choose each day.
For the record, I miss my "nice" undies and I have a brand new respect for the utilitarian nature of the granny panty.
Still not resorting to artificial hormones. Not gonna do it. This too shall pass and all that jazz.
But, for fuck's sake. 21 days.