Drinking and Tweeting by Brandi Glanville

Author:Brandi Glanville
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books

While I don’t remember much, I do remember that the recovery period was beyond what I’d imagined it would be. It was more painful than childbirth. It was absolute hell. My boob job didn’t hurt at all and everyone had told me it would, so I figured it would be the same for vaginal rejuvenation. Not true. I felt as if I were on fire and I could do nothing to make it stop. I wanted desperately to crawl out of my own skin. My muscles were totally clenched at all times, and I couldn’t imagine a worse pain. I thought in the back of my head that maybe God was punishing me or trying to teach me some medieval lesson. Perhaps I’d let my ego get the best of me, and I was now paying the price. I remember thinking, “Hell must be an eternal recovery period from vaginal rejuvenation.” I was so clouded that the days blurred together. I was certain something was wrong, that I would never be back to normal, that I shouldn’t have gone through with this stupid fucking procedure, and then, finally, “Oh my God, I’m dying.” The silver lining was that in those few days of extreme pain, I didn’t think once about Eddie or what’s-her-face. It sounds bizarre, but I sort of understood why some people would cause physical harm to themselves when going through emotionally difficult times. Physical pain can make you forget just about everything else.

Since I’m allergic to hydrocodone—the main ingredient in Vicodin—they gave me Percocet when I went back that third time with my mother. During the procedure, the doctor used a laser instrument to cut the inside of my vaginal wall and sewed me up using dissolvable stitches. Afterward, I was told absolutely nothing was to go inside my vagina for six weeks—no tampons, no cock, no vibrators, and no fingers (I wish my mom were in the room for that conversation). It was just like after childbirth; nothing was to enter my kitty cat for a month and a half then, so I already knew I could do it.

I was bedridden for roughly a week and should have stayed longer, but my mommy duties called. The boys would no longer stand for an inactive mommy, so I needed to get a move on. Plus, I get bored easily. I’m grateful, however, that I had that week. I wouldn’t have been able to go through the surgery—something I knew I needed to cleanse myself of Eddie—if I hadn’t had Mommy to come stay with me.

No matter how old you are, there’s no cozier feeling than to have your mom take care of you. After I had Mason, my mom stayed with me for an entire month. He was her first grandchild, and she is absolutely amazing with babies. (I think it’s a gift you acquire after having and raising three children of your own.) She was by my side for a week and a half after Jakey was born, but already had four grandchildren by the time Jake arrived .

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.