Dont Mince Words

Today’s doctor appointment revealed that I could/may be cleared for sex and yoga in nine days. I have no good reason for why I am recovering so quickly except attitude, diet, and sex on deck.

While Beans pre-alibied a December absence, he reappeared when I was in recovery. He’s been quite present ever since, helping me out and keeping me company while his dick has been put on ice. We both joke about meeting a great person then “this” happens, but it has given us the opportunity to get to know each other better. For me, it means I don’t have to shave my legs or douche. All I do is cook and he’s happy. Simple times.

I’ve scaled-up the teasing with sex count down reminders. But here’s the rub: he’s going to be in Texas filming for nearly a 1/2 month when I’m medically cleared.

Yoga here I come.

My little game of Cat and Doctor continued today as I returned to my plastic surgeon’s office with a Christmas card (“thanks for the great ass”) and my German apple bread (“because only a girl with good farm stock hips could bake like this”).

He came around the corner from another room and announced my presence.

“Marna’s here and today she’s in red and looks great,” he exclaimed.

“I clean up pretty well for someone who has been sponge bathing for two weeks,” I told everyone.

“Wow, look at those heels,” he said.

I reminded him I was a sugardaddy-less working girl and had to return to the corporate monkeyspank today so that I could collect vendor gifts, a bonus, and participate in general holiday fuckoffery (someone put a bottle of Grand Marnier on my desk for symbolic reasons).

I stripped down nekkid and was told again I’m still healing fabulously. My belly button was revealed and it’s cute, in a newborn crusty kind of way. My one remaining pussy pump was also removed which will increase my mobility as well as get the whole puss back on a healing path. The better news is…. I can shower. But not before I make a pit stop at Babeland on the way home to see about a new vibrator.

It’s the simple things like showers and masturbation that keep me going. But the Victoria Secret gift certificate for new panties is running a close third. HO, ho, ho.

I was alone, naked in a room with a hot doctor. There was only one thing I could do and that was flirt.

My plastic surgeon was marking me up with a Sharpie. Cut lines and what not. This takes nearly a hour to do for a body lift. My idle conversation began with, “So when can I have sex again?”

He pushed back, his wheeled stool rolled to the corner. “I have a funny story for you,” he replied.

When 20-something women come in for work, they ask when they can go back to the gym and exercise. Older women ask when they can drink and smoke again.

“But you women, you women in the middle, you always want to know when you can have sex,” he explained.

Now that I had his attention, I asked him if he wanted the over/under on my total estimated skin weight loss. I told him I thought I had a good six pounds of skin. He said he expects it to be over 10.

From there he exposed another secret to the surgery. “When I pull this skin up, your pubic area will get tight and your clitoris will be more exposed. Many women tell me they orgasm faster,” he said.

“I’ll let you know in six weeks and come back and tip you if you can make that happen,” I said smiling.