So, last time I was at PP (not having health insurance is OK in this instance—I generally love my neighborhood PP and way overpay on their sliding scale instead of giving them donations throughout the year) getting my ladyparts maintained, I made some joke while my tits were being palpitated or whatever about how it was nice not having to wear a bra. The OB-GYN said that I might want to wear one, “just for health.” I didn’t really press her, but—OH MY GOD!!!! AHHHHH!!!! HOLD ON!!!
I JUST ATE A FUCKING BUG!!!!
Oh my gosh!! I was eating handfuls of frozen raspberries from Meadowview Farm, and realized, way too late, that one raspberry was way more crunchy than it should have been (horribly, it was an interesting textural contrast, I think that’s why I didn’t spit it out right away). With a sinking feeling I pulled the half-eaten “bite” out of my mouth and it was some sort of bug. Not a tiny little gnat, not a fruit fly. A BUG. A half eaten (swallowed!) bug.
I THINK IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN A FLY. Seriously. It was BIG. Did I just eat a frozen fly? Oh ICK. I think it was inside a raspberry, which is why I didn’t notice it.
I just ate a raspberry-wrapped fly.
Fuck man, now it’s going to take seven years for me to be vegan again!
Via some ridiculous chain of day-off internetting around (I think I got there from here originally), I came across this today:
Boob BS Alert #3: Bras aren’t needed for breast health, and no viable data has ever shown that brassieres prevent breasts from sagging over time. The sag or droop of breasts over time is about genetics and the unique proportion of fat and tissue of a given woman’s breasts. Wearing them is an individual preference based on physical and/or emotional comfort. For those who like wearing a bra to bed, there’s also little to suggest that it’s unsafe, especially if the bra is soft and flexible. In other words, whether you choose to wear a brassiere or not, either choice is healthy and neither choice will impact the health or the bra-free appearance of the breasts.
Ha! A little part of me had been thinking I “should” wear a bra since that appointment, and I’m happy to lay that ridiculousness to rest. Beloved comfy torn wifebeaters, you are here to stay! (Jacob is somewhere in London and I can feel his sigh all the way across the Atlantic…)
Eeew! I ate a fly!