Today on a very special episode of Douglass Diaries...

So, internets, today I have a very special guest post for you. You know, kind of like back in the 80's when they had "very special" episodes of sitcoms? "Tonight on a Very Special episode of Growing Pains, Mike struggles with conflicting emotions when he discovers how Boner got his nickname."

So, like that, but different.

Today's post is brought to you by my old friend Oliver.* I met Oliver while attending college in Utah. We lost touch for a long time, but he recently found me again. I've been trying to convince him that he needs a blog (You'll agree once you read his story), but he doesn't think anyone would be interested. Trust me, internets, you'll be interested.

Anyway, here it is. We're splitting it into two parts, because I know some of you have the attention span of a gnat on crack and won't read it if it's more than a few paragraphs.
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Part One: Elder Jones? Can you help me out? I seem to have dropped the soap.


I've known that I was gay since I was about 7. There are lots of little boys out there who like to do things that may make their parents wonder about their sexuality--play Barbies, play house with baby dolls... I wouldn't worry too much about your sons if they like those things. Worry if they like to have the Ken dolls wash each other's backs in the bathtub of Barbie's dream house. Worry if they pretend to be married to David Hasselhoff when they play house. Those are the things that I did.

But, without being specifically told so, I knew that my inclination toward males was something I needed to keep to myself.

Did I mention I'm Mormon? And grew up in Utah?

So, I grew up and I dated girls. I even loved a few of them. But I was never attracted to them in that way.

I went on a church mission to Italy. First of all, I want you to imagine what it was like for me to share a bedroom with strapping young 19 year old boys for two years. Second of all, I want you to imagine what it was like for me to be surrounded by all those dark, handsome Italian boys with their dreamy accents for two years. If there was an award for repenting of unclean thoughts, I would have won it. I fasted so much that I lost 15 pounds over the course of those two years. No one loses weight on a mission to Italy.

I came home. I went to college. I dated girls. I fell in love. We got engaged. We never did more than kiss, closed mouthed. She thought it was because we were following the rules. I knew it was because I had no desire to do anything else, despite the fact that I did love her very much. And then she decided that marrying me felt wrong and she married someone else. I should have been sad, but really I was relieved. She deserved more than I could have given her.

I went on to medical school, became a doctor (a Urologist. So I can look at wangs all day.) (I'm kidding, people. Seeing wangs all day is just a bonus), and went to work at one of the most prominent hospitals on the East Coast.

There I met Patty.* We both attended the same church congregation.

Since we were the only two people in the congregation who were over thirty and still single, we were thrown together a lot. Probably in the hopes we'd decide to settle for each other and get married so we could get on with multiplying and replenishing the Earth and learning to silently hate each other and all those other things married people get to do.

And it worked. Patty and I became very close. We fell in love. A deep, chaste, sibling-like (unless you're from Alabama) love.

And then one night Patty began to cry and she told me that she was a lesbian.


TO BE CONTINUED, SUCKERS.

*Names have been changed to protect our identities. I chose Oliver because I had a childhood crush on the misfit cousin Oliver who made The Brady Bunch jump the shark. Patty chose Patty because the TV character she identified most with as a child was Peppermint Patty on The Peanuts.
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This makes it worth all the trouble.

So, remember a couple of years ago when I wrote about sex and a bunch of people got their puritanical panties in a wad over it? Well, this e-mail that I received a few days ago makes all the harassment and being called inappropriate totally worth it.

(And if you missed those posts, read this one first, and then this one.)

If you were one of the contributors to those posts, then this letter is really more for you than me.


Brandi,

I just discovered your blog a couple of months ago. When I get bored, I go through your archives and read your old stuff. A few weeks ago I found your post with sex advice, and the companion post from the men.

I've been married for 8 years. Certain things had never happened for me, if you know what I mean. No one ever taught me about sex. No one ever taught my husband about sex. All we knew was that sex was for marriage only. Sex is where babies come from. That's it. Somewhere in the back of our minds was the idea that men enjoyed it and wanted it all the time, and women tolerated it. And that's exactly what I did--tolerated it.

Your post was a real eye opener. I wish so much that I knew more Mormons like the ones you know. I wish I had friends who were willing to talk about these things. I was so miserable thinking that this was it for ETERNITY. If I had just known. Just simple things. Simple things like telling your partner what feels good. It's so simple, and I just never knew! Why can't we have Relief Society meetings about this? I don't mean on Sunday, but for Enrichment or something. I can't be the only one who knows NOTHING.

And you know what was most profound? The idea that I can talk to God about sex in my prayers. It makes sense. He is supposed to be the third person in every marriage. But no one ever said that was O.K. It's so ingrained in most of us that talking about it is bad that the idea of talking about it with God seems really, really bad. But it's so not.

Anyway, I've tried a few things that people suggested in your posts over the past couple of weeks. Just baby steps. But oh man, have they ever worked! I hope this doesn't sound too dramatic, but it's been life changing! Or at the very least, marriage changing. In a good way!

So, I really want to thank everyone who offered advice in the posts. Can you send this to them? Or post this? I want them to know that it really made a difference. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!!

[Name withheld by request]

Greetings from Appalachia!

So, there is no internet in our cabin. Not even dial up. I've got my laptop plugged into my phone and I'm using my phone's internet to post this.

On one hand, that's pretty cool. On the other hand, it's pretty slow.

Anyway, a quick update on my Hillbilly Vacation:

1. The cabin is so high in the mountains, on such steep and windy roads, that I'm convinced I'm going to die every time we leave.

2. I'm pretty sure someone dismembered a body and washed it down the kitchen sink, or at least that what it smells like. I've dumped an entire bottle of bleach down the drain, but the odor is still there.

3. The first day here I woke up with a raging fever, runny nose, congested chest, sore throat, a cold sore roughly the size of Texas AND my period (a week early). So, super romantic! And I blew all the vacation money on Sudafed, Abreva and tampons.

4. The scenery really is gorgeous. We biked and hiked yesterday, and plan to do more of the same today (despite the fact that I feel like I might die).

5. There is an elaborate Christmas light display all throughout the city of Gatlinburg, and they turn it on TONIGHT!

6. The top half of the mountain we're staying on is a private community of rental cabins, but the bottom half is not. There are real life hillbilly cabins down there. One with an outhouse.

7. We were stuck driving about 4 miles an hour on an 11 mile scenic loop yesterday because the car at the front of the line was apparently awestruck by deer. They're just freaking deer! Get over it and drive!

8. Apparently there is no such thing as hillbilly postcards. So, those of you who sent your addresses--you'll be getting normal postcards. Sorry.

Paddle faster. I hear banjo music.

The Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge Welcoming Committee

So, tomorrow we leave for our big Hillbilly Vacation to Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.

Jealous much?

I probably won't be posting much all week (I mean, do they even have internet in hillbilly country?). Unless the hillbilly-ness is just too good not to share--then you know I'll post.

Maybe I'll even come home with a mullet. Or a Dolly Parton wig!

Also, if you send me your mailing address (to my e-mail address listed on the top right of the page--NOT in the comments!) by Wednesday, I'll totally send you a postcard. The most hillbillyish postcard I can find. Maybe even one from Dollywood!

(For real, I'll send you a postcard. And I probably won't even sell your address to a marketing company!)

You're still awesome, just wrong.

So, I was reading the comments on yesterday's post and I started thinking that maybe I just had a really warped body image. Maybe I was just fine with my 17 extra pounds. I was planning to write a post telling you all that you're awesome for making me feel better.

But then I had to run some errands. And it's very, very cold here today so I got out my coat. You remember--my really cute poppy-covered coat? The one I was totally in love with? The one that made me feel cute and even a little bit sassy?

This one.

IT WOULDN'T BUTTON!!!!!

Click on it so you can see how my non existent boobs are about to burst that button right off and possibly take someone's eye out.

So now I just feel even fatter than I did yesterday when I put my stomach on display for the whole world to see. So, it wasn't so much that you made me feel better. You apparently just made me temporarily delusional.

Thanks a lot, internets.
I need some Oreos.

My pannus: A retrospective.

So, this should make all the people who secretly (and not so secretly) hoped I'd get fat again happy.

It's been six months today since I had my tummy tuck. I've had quite a few people ask how it looks now, if I have scars, etc... So, I decided the six month mark would be a good time to show how it looks so far. I'll show you again in May at one year, and then I promise you'll never have to see my pasty torso ever again. Unless you ask me nicely.

In addition to seeing the how the scars healed (or didn't, as is the case), you get to see my 17 pound weight gain. Umm, yay.

This 17 pounds is killing me. It depresses me. I honestly feel fatter than I did when I weighed 305 pounds. I feel like a complete failure that 1) I gained the weight and B) I can't seem to lose it.

My body has decided it likes the extra pounds and is all, "Screw you, bitch!" at any attempt to make it go away.

Also depressing is that I had started getting a glimmer of defined upper abs just before the tummy tuck, but because of how the skin and muscles had to be sewn together, I'm now permanently fleshy in the area just below my sternum. The plastic surgeon said I had so much excess skin, the only way to make that area tight again was to extend my scar up to my collar bone. So, I'm fleshy.

And? I have a weird indentation above the right side of my belly button (it'll be on your left as you're looking at the picture). And my waist is still very uneven, and always will be unless I decide to have more major surgery.

Now, some of you might be thinking that I had a bad surgeon. I didn't. Let me make that clear. These are all things he said are possible when you have as much hanging skin as I did.

And even with all the things that aren't so pretty about it, I would still do it again tomorrow. I no longer have a pannus whacking against my thighs when I walk, so that right there makes it worth everything.

So anyway, without further ado, My pannus through the ages:

First, the obligatory kittens to protect those with picture previews on their blog rolls.

My pannus, pre-tummy tuck.

A few days post tummy tuck. It was so smooth and lovely back then...

And today. Lumpy, bumpy, and 17 pounds fatter.
Go, me.

Protectors of the Universe

Don't worry. They have it all under control. It's all going to be O.K.

(Sorry about the crappy phone pictures. Also, I totally sewed Liam's whole costume. I'm awesome like that.)