Because I am nothing if not a delicate flower, an early spring cold turned into a sore throat which left me with a massive red-ringed crater next to my uvula and the complete inability to swallow.

So I did the only thing I could do.  For ten days I sucked down super-powerful antibiotics at the behest of my doctor.  The crater shrank; it shrank indeed, but at the same time I endured the sudden, violent exodus of every meal I ate.  All my good flora were lost in the antibiotic’s massive attack.  I can assure you that it was no fun.  Exciting, I suppose, in the same way that outrunning a rhinoceros must be exciting.  But no fun.

Crater cured and pills almost depleted, I thought the balance of needful versus nefarious varmints would soon be restored.   Alas, I was so very very wrong.  Soon enough my poor beleaguered vagina was ejecting something that looked exactly like the gyro ingredient pictured at 8:40 here.

Um. Sorry for the over-share. But not sorry enough to delete the link.

So I acquired a one-shot vag de-yeastifier and gamely administered it one lonely Friday night.  By Sunday my interior was fine but my exterior felt like I’d been given oral sex by a belt sander.  Oh the burning.  Oh the pain.  It was so exquisite that I could not keep my hands off of it.  Like poison ivy it begged to be rubbed even though I knew that rubbing would only worsen the discomfort.

After several nearly unbearable hours during which I wondered if I’d been slipped Spanish Fly instead of Monostat, I took to my bed in agony.  With me I brought my Acuvibe and a liter of silicone lube.  What, do you think a liter was excessive?  In my condition a liter seemed like far too little.  And dear readers, once again masturbation saved the day.  The extreme stimulation worked to short-circuit the millions of recently displeased nerve endings in the area.  I slept in peace.

The very next day, newly healed of chest, throat and vagina, I dicovered a link to this amazing vibrator.  “I must have one,” I announced to the world, and soon enough one was winging its way toward me.  “Why settle for frozen water?” asked the ever-witty Diva, who’d pointed the vibe out to me in the first place.  “Try kool-aid instead!”

Instantly my mind spun through the worst-case scenario of using a frozen kool-aid vibe.  Surely applying such an icy concoction to my delicate nether regions would chill me to the very core, after which I’d be stricken with yet another cold.  This would no doubt bring on yet another throat issue, which would require more antiobiotics, which would cause my vagina again to be yeasty enough to turn out a bakery’s worth of bread.  And we don’t want that.

So I think I’ll just stick with plain old water, Diva, if that’s perfectly all right by you.  This delicate flower has spent more than enough time out of commission.