Single Girl Slays Debt

Paying Off Tsunami-Sized Debt as a Single Woman

Money Move – A Debt Consolidation

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Audio version of this post, read by the author.

Technically, I’m out of credit card debt. Last weekend, I applied for a debt consolidation loan for $26,000 to cover all of my credit card debt . . .  and I actually got the loan. I was kind of surprised because, just this summer, I applied for a debt consolidation and got neither the amount I needed nor a rate that made any sense. 

This time, I got a loan covering what I needed, as well as an interest rate much lower than what I’ve been paying on my credit cards. I used Lending Club and they’ve already wired the funds to pay off 2 of my 3 remaining credit cards. I’m waiting on the last payoff to hit my 3rd credit card account. 

I hadn’t planned on applying for a consolidation this weekend. I was going through my mail and saw that Discover offered me a personal loan that I could use for consolidation. I was curious. What would they offer me? How much could I get? 

They offered me the $26,000 to cover the balances on my credit cards, but at a rate of 17.99% for 5 years. The monthly payment on that would have been $660.09. The terms for $23,000 over 7 years would have been at 19.99%, with a monthly payment of $510.60. 

A loan at that interest rate wouldn’t be helpful to me. 

Since I was already in the consolidation mindset, I decided to see if I could get a loan with another company. Lending Club came through with the following terms:

  • New Loan: $26,000
  • Origination Fee: $260
  • Interest Rate: 5.89%; 6.57% APR
  • Monthly Payment: $790

Here’s a summary of what I was paying and the approximate interest I would have paid:

  • American Express: 15.99%
  • Discover: 5.99% on $3,020.13 of the balance; 22.74% on $10,000
  • Credit Union Credit Card: 14.40%

Considering the interest rates that I had on my credit cards, I think the consolidation is a good move. If I had less debt and was looking at a shorter payoff window (i.e., if I expected to pay off all of my debt within a year or less), doing a consolidation wouldn’t be as helpful. Given that I was paying between 14.40% and 22.74% on the majority of my credit card debt, there is a clear savings for me, as someone who has a fairly long debt repayment journey. 

My overall goal with the debt consolidation was to get more bang for my debt payment buck. I wanted to end up with a monthly payment that was equivalent to what I’ve been paying separately to my different credit card creditors, with a substantially lower interest rate. That way, each payment would make a more substantial dent in the balance. 

With the debt consolidation, I will make a total of 36 payments (3 years) of $790. I love that there’s a finite date. I don’t know why that’s significant to me, but it makes me feel good. If makes me feel that, at the very latest, I will have all of this credit card debt knocked out within 3 years. 

With the debt consolidation, I’ll be saving about $3,800 in interest – at least. 

~ Single Girl

Total interest on the $26,000 debt consolidation loan over 3 years is $2,394.53. If I pay it off in 2 years, the interest would be $2,118.27 – about a third of the amount of interest that I would have paid if I didn’t do the consolidation and left things status quo. Based on a 2 year calculation, with the other credit cards – as is – I would have paid about $6,225.25 in interest. With the debt consolidation, I’ll be saving about $3,800 in interest – at least. 

The debt consolidation will require a rework of my debt snowball plan. Since all of the credit cards are now wrapped into one loan, my lowest balance is now my 2016 IRS tax balance. The next one is my 2017 tax balance. Here’s what the order of attack is now. 

Under the new order of my debt snowball debts, this loan is going to be the 4th debt that I attack. I’ve first got to address the 2016 IRS bill, the 2017 IRS bill, then my car. While I’d love to say that I’ll pay this off next year or the year after, I recognize that I have to pay off almost $40,000 before I even get to this loan.

This is a very appropriate payoff order. Since the IRS charges significant fees and interest, and has the power to freeze my accounts, I’m glad that I’ll now be focused on getting them paid off as quickly as possible. 

While the $790 monthly payment might seem high, it’s around the total of what I’ve been paying on the credit cards independently.

  • Chase Monthly Payment: $182 (recently paid off)
  • Credit Union Card Monthly Payment: $181
  • American Express Monthly Payment: $252
  • Discover Monthly Payment: $265

What I was paying prior to paying off the Chase card was $880 per month in total on credit cards.

A Note on Celebrations

I’m not going to forego my debt payoff celebrations even though the credit cards are consolidated into one loan. I will not wait until the full $26,000 is paid. Instead, I’ll do the celebrations in milestones. Every time I pay off an amount equal to what a particular credit card balance was, I’ll get to celebrate. For example, if the balance on my credit union credit card was $6,992 as of July, 2019 (when I fully committed to my debt-free journey), once I’ve paid off that amount on the consolidated loan, I’ll get to do a little celebration. My personal policy for celebrations is that I am allowed to celebrate the payoff of the debt with an amount equal to 1% of what the balance of that debt was as of July, 2019. So, when I’ve paid off $6,992, I’ll get to celebrate using up to $70 (i.e., 1% of $6,992, rounded up to the nearest dollar). 

Water Heater Hack

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My hot water heater started acting up recently. I like to luxuriate in the shower so when I realized that the water was getting cold much too quickly, I was irritated that I had yet another home maintenance issue to address. 

Audio version of this post, read by the author.
Photo by Carson Masterson on Unsplash

A couple of weeks ago, when a fuze on my HVAC system blew, I asked the guy who fixed that system to take a look at my hot water heater while he was up there handling the HVAC. He told me that the water heater is “about to go” and that I need to plan to replace it. The cost would be about $400 to $500 for the water heater and about $200 for the labor. 

The old me would have decided pretty promptly to go ahead and get the thing replaced. If I didn’t have the cash, I would have just put the water heater and associated labor on a credit card. 

The new me, however, makes decisions more intentionally and thoughtfully. I knew right away that, since I hadn’t budgeted $700 in November to fix a hot water heater, and it wasn’t an emergency (after all, the water was still getting hot, just not as hot or for as long as I like), I wouldn’t be spending the money right away for the water heater. I’m working on my credit sobriety, so the use of a credit card isn’t an option. 

(Don’t get me wrong – I’ve taken cold showers before. When I studied abroad in west Africa, a hot shower wasn’t even an option because there was no hot water in the home of my first homestay family. I can tolerate a cold shower; I just really, really don’t want to have to take one.) 

Last weekend, because the water in the shower was getting cold so quickly, I decided to wash my hair in the kitchen sink. Then, after I washed my hair, I did something in the bathroom (can’t remember what it was) that caused me to run the water in that sink as well. I was concerned that my use of the water in the kitchen and in the bathroom might infringe upon my available hot water for my shower. 

To my surprise, the exact opposite occurred. I ended up having plenty of water to luxuriate in the shower. I even ended my shower when I felt like it, with the water still being hot. I’m assuming that this had something to do with me having already had the water in the house flowing from the other faucets. I assure you, prior to this weekend, the cold water was truly an issue for me. 


I’m not sure why this is happening, but I’m delighted. I had a guy look at my dishwasher about a year ago (doesn’t it seem like my whole house is falling apart?) and he noted that my dishwasher water doesn’t get hot unless I first run the water in the sink next to it. When I did a quick Google search, I learned from an article by thekitchn.com that “Especially in the winter, the pipes in our homes can get cold even if the water heater is working. Running hot water will clear out any cold water from the pipes and warm them up, which helps any appliance in [the] home get hot water faster.” Maybe that’s what’s going on with the water heater/water in the shower.

Now, whenever I want to take a shower, I first turn on the kitchen and bathroom sink faucets and let them run for awhile. Then, I have more than enough hot water.

If I can delay the replacement of the water heater, I can focus on pulling together the $8,000. 

~ Single Girl

The reason this discovery is such a big deal for me is because having the hot water reduces the level of urgency for me with regard to the replacement of the water heater. Yes, I know I need to get it replaced and am working that into my plans. I’m also in the face of an $8,000 HOA assessment. I need to come up with that money by February. If I can delay the replacement of the water heater, I can focus on pulling together the $8,000.

What makes me happy is that I’m being thoughtful in how I solve these unexpected money problems instead of engaging in knee-jerk spending. This is different for me. Looks like the girl is turning over a new leaf.

The Tsunami Situation – Student Loan Edition

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Photo by Nicole Wolf on Unsplash
Audio version of this post, read by the author.

Writing this post has been sad for me. 

This is the first time in over 15 years that I’ve actually looked at and studied my original student loan documents. In doing so, I’ve had to face the reality of how stupid I’ve been. Really stupid. It’s one thing to see your current six figure balance. It’s a whole other thing to see that it started off as five. 

I still have a hard copy of the letter that Sallie Mae sent to me 18 years ago, 2 months before my law school graduation. It gave me advance notice that I was scheduled to begin repaying my loans 6 months after my upcoming graduation. As of the day that I graduated from law school, my total loans for undergrad were $25,410. Ten months after that letter, the balance was up to $28,825.40 because two of my loans were unsubsidized. This was the total before my law school loans were tacked on to the balance. 

Today, the total outstanding balance on my student loans is $152,011.  This consists of two loans at 5.875%. One loan is subsidized, with a balance of $64,931. The other is unsubsidized, with a balance of $87,080. 


Here’s the vomit-inducing part: the original loan total amount was $93,054.

A Word on Unsubsidized vs. Subsidized Student Loans

An unsubsidized loan is one on which the interest begins to accrue once the loan funds are disbursed. This accrual continues regardless of whether the borrower is still enrolled in school or is in an allowed grace or deferral period. With a subsidized loan, alternatively, the accrued interest is paid by the government or the bank while the student is enrolled on at least a half-time basis in school or are within a grace or deferment period. The fundamental difference between the two types of loans is who is paying the interest once the loan has been given to the student.

Why would anyone ever take out an unsubsidized loan? SallieMae.com provides an enlightening explanation:

Simply put, subsidized loan offers are based solely on need, when you apply for aid through the Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA) and they are only available to undergraduate students. Generally, you’ll find out how much you’re allowed to borrow on a subsidized loan, for a particular school, via your school’s financial aid offer. Colleges set those amounts individually. If you’re eligible for a subsidized loan, it will be part of your offer.  On the “un” side, you do not have to demonstrate need for an unsubsidized loan, so you can borrow more money, and use the funds to pay for a graduate degree, for example.


So What Happened?

When I attended my undergraduate institution, the amount of tuition was approximately $24,000 per year. The law school I attended charged tuition of around $19,000 per year. 

I don’t remember the total cost of my education (i.e., tuition, room and board). Through some online research, I was able to find tuition amounts mentioned above, but I do not recall (and haven’t found) information regarding the room and board costs. Based on the numbers that I found, the cost of my undergraduate education tuition totaled $96,000 and my law school tuition totaled $57,000. Again, this doesn’t even address the room and board piece. 

I was diligent about getting scholarships for my first year of undergrad. Because my parents were divorced by that time and the FAFSA relied on my mother’s income at the time I applied to college, I was also able to get some financial aid. Some of my financial aid package included work-study. 

I was a cheerleader in high school and decided to continue my cheerleading participation during my first semester of undegrad. I learned quickly, however, that I needed to have some money and cheerleading, as an extracurricular activity, didn’t pay. My parents weren’t sending me money in any substantial amount or on a consistent basis, so I set my sights on gainful employment. 

To be fair, I may have been too independent for my own good. My father gave me an American Express card while I was in high school to have for emergencies. While in college, I very rarely used it. He didn’t encourage me to use it, but I also didn’t ask. My parents weren’t paying any tuition. In my mind, I was the one who was responsible for my education. Since I could work, I thought I should do my best to be self-sufficient and earn money to buy things like toiletries and to have pocket money. I’ve always been that way. Working for me meant doing a full 40 hours (between my paying job and an internship) per week. My younger brother and sister also received an American Express card to use while in college. From what I hear, my brother was way more diligent in using it. He also received a monthly allowance from my father while there. My sister was, apparently, the queen Amex user of us all. 

For an Ivy League undergraduate education that retailed at over $100,000 (if I were to include room and board), coming out with $25,000 in loans wasn’t that bad. My law degree was a different story. Not only was I an out-of-state student, therefore, paying out-of-state tuition, but I also didn’t get any financial aid. So, I attended law school at full retail price, along with an out-of-state premium.

Scholarships are relatively rare in law school. Many professional graduate-level programs do not offer financial assistance – at least, not on the level at which such assistance is usually offered to undergraduates. If one is fortunate enough to get a scholarship, those scholarships generally cover only tuition at the graduate school level, leaving books, room and board, and all other expenses up to the student. 

Short-Term Thinking

It is ridiculous that I graduated from school 18 years ago and owe more money on student loans now than I did back then. In fact, I now owe more on my student loans than I do on my home. How does that happen? The simple answer: short-term thinking. 

Immediately after I graduated from college, I went to law school. Since I was enrolled full-time in law school over the next three years, repayment of my undergraduate loans was deferred until after I graduated from law school.  

And defer was what I did. Since then, and up until recently, I’ve always wanted to pay as little as possible on the loans. That, obviously, has huge long-term consequences. I took advantage of every minute of forbearance that was available to me. Then, when forbearance was no longer an option, I utilized whatever other program would make it possible for me to make a lower payment. There were so many possibilities – the graduated repayment, the extended repayment, the income-sensitive repayment. It was so easy to put the loans in forbearance, or to request some form of hardship deferral that allowed me to pay a reduced or non-existent payment. My lenders made that very easy. With the way that these major student loan lenders operate, you almost have to be egregiously irresponsible to ever land in default. Reducing or not making payments is as easy as making a phone call or filling out a form. 

They were also extremely easy to get, unlike other forms of debt. When I was in undergrad, if I was short on money, do you know what I did? I went to the financial aid office and got more. It was as easy as that. All I had to do was sign a piece a paper. Then, suddenly, I had more money on my student card to use for food or other on-campus expenses. I see now that what I must have been doing was, unknowingly, getting a bunch of unsubsidized loans.  

I think I always viewed the loans as “not that bad” of a debt because, after all, I got a great education out of them. I have an education of which some people dream. I never felt any shame or stigma attached to having student loans. Whenever I’d mention them, people would usually say something along the lines of, “Tell me about it. I totally understand.” When people learned of the schools that I attended, the student loans seemed justified. 

I hadn’t been serious about paying these student loans for any extended period of time. I treated them as an obligation that could continuously be deferred. I don’t think I ever consistently made full, sensible payments (i.e., ones that actually reduced the balance) for more than 5 months or so in a row – in almost 2 decades! 
The crazy part is that as I write and think back to what I was doing and thinking over the last 18 years, I’m not quite sure about why I didn’t treat my student loans like a real bill – like other bills that cannot be repeatedly deferred and that have to be paid. Were there times over the years at which I was seriously financially strapped and struggling? Absolutely. But for those bills that I knew I had to pay, I found a way to pay them. I never, ever viewed my student loans as one of those critical bills.

The reason I didn’t treat my student loans like other bills is because . . . I could.

~ Single Girl

The only reason I can think of is . . . because I could.

Where Were My Parents When All This Was Happening?

Where were my parents when I was making thoughtless student loan decisions? I’m not sure. I think that my parents just weren’t paying attention. I spoke with them regularly, but they weren’t intimately involved in the financial affairs related to my schooling. My mom made sure to complete the FAFSA every year, but that was about the extent of my parental involvement. We joke about how they, basically, dropped me off at school and didn’t come back until 4 years later to pick me up at graduation. It’s true. They never visited. (And my parents and I are cool – super cool – and haven’t had relational issues.) I met with my father once for lunch during my first or second year when he had a layover on an international flight. That was it. 

They were living their lives, working on building their businesses. My father was fostering a new relationship with my sister’s mom. My mother moved from my home town and was focused on getting acclimated to her new city. She was also concentrating on my little brother, who had significant health challenges to overcome, and also had to adjust to his new environment. 

Plus, they were immigrants who didn’t know much about the post-secondary education system in the United States. My mother attended college here, but at the time, her father was still alive and could cash flow the cost of her education. He’d send her tuition funds from overseas and, from what I understand, she didn’t worry much about money while in school. In his formal education, my father only got as far as a couple of community college courses. 

The one thing I know is that they never said that the loans were a bad idea or discouraged me from getting them.  First of all, you’re going to go to school, kiddo. That’s non-negotiable. Second of all, you don’t not go to a great undergraduate school if you are offered admission. Third, you don’t not go to a top 10 law school if they’ve agreed to let you in. I think we all thought that this was just how it  was done. If you don’t have the money to pay for school, you borrow it. Period. How else was this fancy education going to be paid for?

What’s Done Is Done, But It’s Bad

As I sit here now, in the process of cleaning up my mess and facing all of the nasty, nasty facts, I’m pissed with myself for not being more diligent in my handling of these loans. I should never, never, never have treated them like they were some kind of “acceptable” debt. What was once a $93,000 problem has now become a $150,000 problem. That’s ridiculous! And embarrassing. And sad.

Broke? Yes. Poor? Neva.

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Poor is a state of mind; broke is ‘I’m passing through.’

~ Dave Ramsey
Audio version of this post, read by the author.

A couple of nights ago, I hung out with a girlfriend of mine. I hadn’t seen her in awhile but our relationship is such that we always just pick up where we left off, as if no time had passed. She’s like me in that we are both driven to become the best versions of ourselves that we can. We’re readers; we consume information and wisdom from those who live the lives we want to live. We’re fine with doing things that some people find weird or difficult – like believing in the Law of Attraction and betting on ourselves.  

Though we are alike in many ways, we’re very different in one surprising way. She takes issue with me referring to myself as “broke.” I, obviously, don’t take such issue. In our conversation, she pushed back twice, stating that she thinks the more appropriate statement is, “It’s not in my budget.” Well, yeah. Yeah. It’s not in my budget because I’m on a broke person budget, negative net worth person budget, no retirement savings-having, not even next year savings-having person budget. It’s not absent from my budget on account of some money magic hocus pocus that – voila! – kept the thing from making it into the budget. There’s a reason for why it’s not in my budget – a fundamental reason. The reason? You guessed it. I’m broke. 

By the way, we weren’t even talking about a specific thing. She deemed the “it” to be anything at all. Anything. Her main concern was that I was employing the word “broke.” Her view seemed to be that the words we use are important and that, by using the word “broke,” I’m somehow convincing myself – either consciously or subconsciously, I’m not sure – that I am and will stay in a state of not having money to live the way I’d like to live. It became obvious to me that she and I have different definitions of the word. So maybe I ought to clarify. 

As it turns out . . . I am broke. If you’ve spent any time on this blog, you know that I say it pretty frequently. Saying it doesn’t make me think that I’m sabotaging myself because I view my current position as temporary. Actually, I know that this is temporary. I see my current debt, account balances and negative net worth as a factual, current state of being, not as the place in which I’m destined to stay. To me, it’s like saying, “I’m in my 3rd year of undergraduate studies.” It’s not quite where I want to be (a graduate), but I recognize that I won’t be here forever. 

After all, I’m not poor; I’m just broke. 

Being poor would be a whole other issue. Poor would be a problem. If I was poor, my friend would have good reason for staging an intervention. Poor is not a mere state of being; it is a mindset.  As I said in my last post, there’s nothing sexy about being broke. But it’s temporary. Being poor is a way of thinking and consistently doing – not simply a state of being, but a way of being. It’s a tendency. Though the dictionary defines “broke” and “poor” similarly – relating to the lack of money – I do not view them as the same. Despite their synonymous definitions, they have different connotations. 

Mindset: (1) an attitude, disposition, or mood; (2) an intention or inclination.

~ Dictionary.com

Think about it. People who are rich believe that if they were to ever lose all of their money, they could get it all back. They know that, though they may be without money during a period of time, they are not without their other tools and resources that would allow them to rebuild. 

Kim Kiyosaki illustrates this concept well in her post The Difference Between “Poor” and “Broke”. She says:

“Even when Robert and I were homeless, we did not consider ourselves poor, only broke. Even when we were $400,000 in debt, we did not think of ourselves as poor. We thought of ourselves as rich people who happened to be broke at the time. This attitude – along with hard work, perserverance, and creative thinking – propelled us forward so that instead of becoming stuck in the rat race we progressed from broke to wealthy.”

We’ve all heard the stories of lottery winners going from poor to rich, then back to poor again. The same is true of many athletes and entertainers who have earned millions of dollars, only to find themselves bankrupt. Why? Because it’s a part of who they are. Again, it’s a way of being. A way of thinking. This way of being causes them to do those things that land them back, literally, into the poorhouse. 

“If you do rich people habits with money and have rich people mindsets with money, eventually you will be rich people. If you do poor people stuff with money and you’re rich, eventually you will be poor people.”

~ Dave Ramsey

Let’s be clear: I’m not talking about true poverty. There are some people who, because of where they were born or the government to which they are subject, will be relegated to a position of being economically unable to prosper. That’s not what I’m talking about here. 

Whenever I use the term “broke,” I’m referring to my temporary state of being financially; unstable, of having no real savings (beyond my $1,000 baby emergency fund), of having a substantially negative net worth, and being concerned that I’m just one bad month from missing a mortgage payment. Am I destitute? No. Is this an acceptable, sensible way to live in this prosperous country of ours? Not at all. 

What I’m not talking about is some ingrained belief that, because I don’t have what I want right now, I never will. Or, some self-sabotaging idea that I don’t deserve to be wealthy or live a life of luxury. I believe, wholeheartedly, that my tsunami situation will one day be a less damaging phenomenon. I look forward to the day that I can categorize my circumstances as a Category 2 hurricane or, eventually, just heavy showers. Ultimately, I dream of future days of clear, sunny skies. I’m willing to do what it takes to get there. 

Even though I don’t describe myself as “poor,” I know that I need some money mindset help. I recognize that I have to make some shifts in my mentality and work on my identity. How do I know this? I know this because there’s a reason I’m not making more money. There’s a reason I allowed myself to not pay attention to my finances and make detrimental decisions. I realize that there’s something inside of me that has allowed me to be where I am. Though I know I won’t be here forever, I’m aware that there is something within me that got me here in the first place. 

Ed Mylett refers to this as an internal thermostat. He says, “If you set your internal thermostat at 75 degrees of success, but then you start achieving 80, 85, 90 degrees of success, because you have exceeded the limitations of your internal thermostat, you will find a way to self-sabotage back down to a more ‘comfortable’ temperature.” As you grow in life, you’ve got to increase your internal thermostat. (See https://www.facebook.com/EdMylettFanPage/posts/2104983102896240).

That goes the other way as well. If my internal thermostat is set at 90 degrees of success, but my external success temperature is 70 degrees, it is inevitable that the external success temperature will have to rise to meet my internal thermostat. In the meantime, like Kim Kiyosaki says, I’ll think of myself as a rich person who just so happens to be broke at the moment.

So Not Sexy Side Hustle

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A few months ago, an older gentleman who is a fellow real estate agent at my broker’s office asked me if he could connect me with his son whom he needed “to get married off.” He asked me for my card. I gave it to him. I thought nothing else of it. 

Audio version of this post, read by the author.

Later that week, I received a call from “the son.” He asked me if I knew who he was. I didn’t. I just knew him as the son of the real estate agent guy. As it turns out, the son was a man who had tried to get me to go out with him before. Somehow, we were Facebook friends and had communicated via Facebook Messenger periodically over the years. Whenever he asked me out, I was either in a relationship or just wasn’t interested.  This time, influenced by my colleague’s relationship to the man, I finally agreed to go out with him.

We had lunch at a hip little Mexican place in a popular development in Midtown. I really pay attention to people and I’m a great listener. By the end of the date, I knew a whole lot more about this guy than he did about me. I let him ramble on and on (he was the most ramblin’ ass dude I’ve been out with in a while), made appropriate comments, and asked sensible questions. He told me about himself, his kids, his job and even about his father (like the fact that his father had murdered someone, served time in prison and was later pardoned). 

I’m not suggesting that people be dishonest when first meeting a potential romantic partner; I’m suggesting that folks not lead with their shit.

~ Single Girl

In conversations that we had during the date and afterwards, he mentioned more than once his challenges with not making much money. He’s a professor at a local university and, apparently, it isn’t particularly lucrative. In a post-date conversation – one in which I eventually told him that I didn’t think we were a good fit – he reiterated that he doesn’t make much money. It got to the point where I said to him, “You’ve mentioned a few times that money is a challenge. Are you in the position to be dating right now?” His response was . . . interesting. 

“Well, you know,” he said, “I do things on the side . . . I donate plasma ‘n’ stuff.” 

[Record scratch.]

Plasma?! I’ve never had someone say out of their mouth to me that plasma donation was their side hustle.  On the one hand, I was curious about how much it pays. On the other hand, I used his statement as confirmation of his deficient ass dating skills. He didn’t even realize that he shouldn’t have mentioned the plasma-donating proclivity to a girl he just met.

The reason he shouldn’t have mentioned his proneness to plasma is for the same reason that no one should remark upon their various issues too early on in a dating situation. Of course, we all have issues. Every grown up knows that. It is rarely a good dating approach, however, to put all of one’s issues on the table right away. We should parse out those not so sexy parts of us; there’s no need to overwhelm someone with them prematurely. I’m not suggesting that people be dishonest when first meeting a potential romantic partner; I’m suggesting that folks not lead with their shit. 

In our one date and subsequent conversations, this guy had already demonstrated other qualities that I didn’t like. He spoke incessantly (that’s how we left the date with him having learned almost nothing about me and me learning a lot about him) and he asked questions that demonstrated an unusual need for reassurance. He also rudely interrupted (and he admitted that this is a bad habit of his) the relatively few sentences I spoke in conversation with him. So his mention of the plasma donation side hustle just added to the list of reasons that I didn’t think very highly of him. It’s not the fact that he donates plasma. It’s that it’s not a sexy side hustle and he brought it up before I got a chance to learn about the good things about him – the things that I might actually like. When you meet someone and get the chance to experience the qualities that you appreciate, when you later learn things about them that aren’t as attractive, those unattractive qualities can be balanced or tempered against all that you’ve learned to like about the person. 

Let’s not act like some side hustles aren’t sexier than others. Here’s some quick comparisons to consider: 

“I trade ForEx on the side.” vs. “I deliver for Jersey Mike’s.”

“I prepare tax returns.” vs. “I have a GoFundMe page.” 

“I do math tutoring via Zoom.” vs. “I recharge electric scooters.” 

“I do personal chef services for busy families in my neighborhood.” vs.  “I’m a stripper.’” (It would seem that the stripper one would be sexy but, interestingly, many of us don’t mind watching strippers, but would prefer to not date one.)

“I manage social media for small businesses.” vs. “I donate plasma.”

It seems that it’s usually the side hustles that require skills or have the potential to produce higher-than-average income that have greater appeal. But that’s an aside. 

I’m sure there are a bunch of guys around here donating sperm, blood and plasma for money. Women, likewise, are offering their bodily fluids, eggs and whole uteruses for dollars. And let’s not act like people aren’t out here, literally, selling sex. To be clear: I’m not knocking anybody’s hustle. I’m merely suggesting that – for someone who is dating – a little bit of discretion be exercised in communicating about those not so sexy side hustles. 

When you’ve gotten to know your significant other, it’s not a big deal if they pass gas or burp in your presence. If they did that on the first or second date, however, you wouldn’t think it was cool. You’d think it was rude and you’d be unimpressed that they didn’t exercise more courtesy with you. 

Paying an electric bill for your girlfriend is a non-issue when you’ve developed a relationship with her. Were she to ask you to pay one of her bills on a first, second or third date you’d be thoroughly turned off. (If you’re saying to yourself, “Where they do that at?” let me assure you that I’ve heard several men in this city complain of the forwardness of women with whom they’ve gone on dates. As odd a request that is to me, apparently, it’s not that unusual.)

Having the person you like tell you that they have herpes would likely be more palatable after you’ve had a few dates versus learning about that at the beginning, before you’ve even had the chance to see if you’re into them. 

In each scenario, we’re dealing with the same action, just executed at a different time. And timing does matter. 

I’m not making a commentary on bodily functions, venereal diseases or bills needed to be paid. I’m strictly talking about what is sexy and what is not. While sexiness is, obviously, is in the eye of the beholder, I think it is fair to say that some shit is universally not sexy. 

I don’t care what anyone says; there’s nothing sexy about a man talking about how he’s so broke that he needs to (not used to, but continues to) donate plasma – as a middle aged man. There’s nothing sexy about any one – man or woman – being broke as an adult. Period. But many of us are broke and in debt – including me – and I have enough dating IQ to know not to lead with my six figures of student loan debt and the back taxes that I owe. There’s more to me than my debt. And, this debt is temporary. I have other amazing qualities that I can present first. 

Does this mean that I’d hide it or flat out lie if asked directly about it? No, I wouldn’t. I’m just going to first focus on learning about the other person and letting them get to know about me. Do we even like being around each other? Do we have high-quality conversations? Do we appreciate each other’s energy? Do we have any chemistry? If these factors don’t exist, we won’t even need to bother getting to the point of learning about the negative stuff. 

The bottom line is that if the hustle is an honest one, there should be no stigma or judgment attached to it. Intellectually, I don’t think there should ever be shame in the making a bona fide living. But, there’s a difference between what should be and what actually is. And the reality is that I have the right to not be turned on by how you make your money and someone could opt to feel the same about me.


Fundamentally, what matters most to me when evaluating a potential mate (from a financial perspective) are his philosophies on money, his work ethic and what his overall vision for his life is. Yet . . . let me be real. .  . will I, at this age, seriously date a broke man? It’s unlikely. Broke doesn’t turn me on. Chris Rock said it the best in Kill The Messenger:

. . . When it comes to women and money . . . nothing dries up a pussy quicker than a woman reaching for her wallet. There is something about a woman reaching for her wallet that just dries up the vagina. It’s almost like the wallet is sending a signal to the pussy that this man is not worthy of getting wet for.

~ Chris Rock, Kill the Messenger

Mr. Plasma was both basic and broke. He didn’t have a chance. 

Will My Home Vaporize My Debt Snowball?

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Audio version of this post, read by the author.

I’m grateful that I have some equity in my condo. One day in the future, I’ll be able to reap the benefits of that. In the meantime, this home of my mine is putting a significant obstruction in my debt free plan.

Condominium Special Assessment

I’ve previously mentioned that my HOA Board is planning to issue a special assessment for the replacement of the roof on our building. Each unit owner must pay his or her proportionate share of the cost of the roof replacement, based on the size of their unit. This wouldn’t be a big deal if I lived in a highrise with plenty of units. Given that our building only contains 14 units, however, the projected cost of the roof on a per unit owner basis is several thousands of dollars. 

When the initial projections for the roof were first presented, I was told that my portion to pay would be around $6,000. At our HOA meeting earlier this week, I learned that my contribution will be closer to $8,200. The HOA Board wants to ensure that we add some financial cushion to account for any construction overages or unexpected costs. As we all know, construction projects typically go over budget and the Board wants to ensure that we don’t end up in a bind to cover the entire cost when it comes due. 

Each unit owner is supposed to be ready by February 15, 2020 with the first half of our portion of the payment; the other half is due 3 weeks later, during the first week of March, 2020.  That gives me 3 months to come up with $8,200. 

That gives me 3 months to come up with $8,200. 

~ Single Girl

As someone who is following Dave Ramsey’s baby steps, I only have $1,000 in a baby emergency fund. In anticipation of the special assessment, I started putting money aside to be prepared to make the payment. I saved $1,000 last month toward that end.  I also reserved some of the money I earned from my recent commission and put it into my sinking fund for home repairs. Currently, the account holds $2,058. In my budget for November, I’ve allocated $1,000 toward savings for this as well. So, as of the end of this month, I should have around $3,000 towards the $8,000 I’ll owe. 

That gives me 3 months to come up with the $5,200 balance. 

The HVAC Unit Strikes Again

Last weekend, I discovered that my HVAC (heating, ventilation and air conditioning) system went out. Completely. The thermostat wasn’t displaying anything and the unit wouldn’t heat or cool. Given the time of year this is, my heat was the main concern. I think that because half of my walls are brick, I don’t experience significant temperature fluctuations.  Plus, we have both electric and gas service in our units. The oven is operated on gas. Gas payments are covered in my monthly HOA dues (which is the same payment every month). So what did I do? To warm my place while my HVAC was out, I’d heat the oven to 450 degrees then open it up and let the heat escape. I kept the oven on for as long as I needed the heat.

In September, the problem with the HVAC was that it wasn’t cooling. I spent $419 ($169 over what I budgeted) getting a short-term fix for that issue. This time, I had no idea what the problem was. My biggest fear was that it had totally died on me and that it would need to be replaced entirely. 

I got a referral from a friend for one of the maintenance guys who does work at the apartment complex in which she lives. Because I’m really watching my coins, I wanted to get as low-cost a diagnosis as I could. If the issue was a major one, I’d then be more inclined to have the work done by a larger company – one that would be bonded and insured and could provide a formal warranty for their work. But, since this was a totally unexpected (and un-budgeted for expense), I needed it to be low-cost. Usually the lower-cost folks are those who do maintenance and construction work as a side hustle to their main gig. 

I was happy to learn that the problem with the unit was a blown fuse. The maintenance guy changed the fuse for me and got the unit back to work. 

Total cost: $100. 

Water Heater

While the maintenance guy was on top of my bathroom diagnosing the HVAC unit (remember, my HVAC sits atop my bathroom), I asked if he could take  a look at my water heater. A couple of weeks ago, the hot water in my shower started acting weird. The water gets hot, but it doesn’t get hot until I’ve turned the lever almost as far as it will go. Then, the water doesn’t stay hot for very long after that. (I’m no Jennifer Anniston, with her 3 minute “protect the environment” showers. I like to take long showers. Fortunately, water is included in my monthly HOA payment.)  

The water heater is on the right side.

The maintenance guy told me that my water heater is on its last leg and explained why my water isn’t getting and remaining hot like it should. He said that, if he were me, he’d replace it immediately. “I’m a budgeter,” I said. “I’m not going to be able to replace it this month.” He thinks I may have a month or 2, at most, before it completely goes out. I’ll wait a little longer. 

Total cost for diagnosis: $20 (plus, I tipped him an additional $20).

The Plan

I have adequate space on my credit cards to cover both the cost of the special assessment and the water heater replacement. Plus, the HOA Board is considering allowing owners who are suffering a hardship to borrow from the HOA reserve fund, so that they have more time to come up with the money.  I’m officially 102 days credit sober; borrowing the money for this in any kind of way is not an option. 

For the HOA assessment, I’m deciding whether to put my debt snowball on hold over the next three months and save the $1,700+ per month that I need to cover the $5,200. It is possible that I may close on a small real estate deal between now and then, so I may get a couple of thousand dollars through that, which I could also use toward the assessment. 

I plan to have the water heater serviced by the maintenance guy who is side hustling because (1) I was happy with his professionalism and his willingness to really take the time and effort to diagnose my problem, (2) I think his prices will be cheaper than most and (3) he thinks he may be able to get me a discount on the water heater. He said that a water heater like mine (a 40 gallon) should cost between $400 and $500. For labor, he would charge me $200, including picking it up for me from Lowe’s, Home Depot or wherever.  Of course, I’m going to do my research on what the water heater and the associated labor should cost before making a final decision. I’ve got to look at the numbers for next month to determine whether or not I should move forward with it in December or January.

Broke + Homeownership = No Bueno

I cannot stress enough that a broke person should not own a home. When these expenses come up, you have to find a way to pay for them. And, clearly, these expenses can be significant. 

Granted, I’m delighted that I have equity in my home. But that equity isn’t money that is accessible. I don’t plan to sell my condo for a few years, so, while (hopefully) my equity continues to grow in the upcoming years, I’ll be paying bills on this place all along the way – while trying to get rid of my tsunami-sized debt.  

Geez, $8,900 could do A LOT for my debt snowball. But, I recognize that life continues to happen while on a debt free journey. I also have to remember – things could be a lot worse.

Fibroids, Food and Frustration – Part 2

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Audio version of this post, read by the author.

This is a continuation of Fibroids, Food and Frustration.

The thing about fibroids is that no definitive cause of them has been determined. The Mayo Clinic states plainly, “Doctors don’t know the cause of uterine fibroids,” but certain factors appear to contribute to them. Among those factors are genetics and hormones – particularly estrogen and progesterone.

I definitely had the genetics piece covered. As I mentioned before, my mother had fibroids. My grandmother also had them. My grandmother’s fibroids were so severe that she ended up having a hysterectomy. 

In the face of having a hysterectomy myself, I wanted to learn more about these alien tumors. Clearly, something was wrong in my body, which was leading to the aggressiveness of the tumors. My uterus wasn’t normal. I figured there had to be something in my biological ecosystem that was causing the fibroids to come back over and over again. 

As I did more research, I discovered the work of doctors who deemed the key cause of fibroids to be the relative levels of estrogen compared to progesterone. They determined that when the presence of estrogen was too pronounced, that led to the growth of fibroids. Estrogen dominance, therefore, was the real issue. 

Or, was it? Maybe there were other possibilities contributing to some kind of breakdown in my overall health. I continued to research. Did I have gut flora issues? Did I have a candida overgrowth or something? Did I have a latent allergy that had me living with acute inflammation? Was stress wreaking havoc on my body? I had to see what I could discover. 

I committed to getting myself checked from top to bottom to see if there was some underlying or pervasive issue that I just didn’t see – something that was causing the fibroids to grow back. 

I found a naturopathic doctor, told him about my history, and said that I really needed him to check everything. I wanted the kinds of tests that traditional doctors won’t usually order on a patient’s behalf because (1) they don’t believe that your medical theories are supported by science and (2) the tests aren’t covered by insurance policies. I took a special stool test to check my gut flora. I took hormone tests. I took blood tests. I also took a food sensitivity test.  (These non-traditional tests were very expensive, by the way; the food sensitivity test, by itself, was several hundred dollars.) 

I learned that my hormone levels weren’t right; my gut wasn’t right, either. These issues could be remedied with strong probiotics and some progesterone supplements. 

Why I Eat the Way I Do

The worst part was the results of my food sensitivity test. I was reactive to almost everything I liked to eat – everything! There were literally 42 items on my list of reactive foods. The results of the test showed me to be mildly reactive to, among other foods, almonds, cashews, pinto beans, cherries, white potatoes, peanuts, black pepper, chocolate, yeast, turkey, vanilla, watermelon, trout, pineapple and peppermint. It showed me being highly reactive to chicken, egg, wheat, cow’s milk, garlic and ginger. 

Jesus Christ. 

It was ridiculous! I had already stopped eating red meat a couple of years prior, but . . . chicken? . . . . chicken?! Nooooooooooooooooo! And cheese?! Oh, and wheat?! What-in-all-the-fuck?! 

The doctor assured me that if I avoided these foods for about 3 months, my body would likely reset and I would then be able to resume eating these foods. Since I had told myself that I wouldn’t get a hysterectomy until I had done all that I could do to try to correct my body, I was willing to eliminate the unfriendly foods and see what the results would be. Though I had previously engaged in some extreme food experiments in the past, this was going to be more than I was thinking I could handle. This wouldn’t be my first time not consuming something I liked, but it would surely be next level deprivation for me.

I couldn’t eat much of what I liked!

Deprivation Start Date – October 1, 2016

Before embarking on a major food deprivation project, I always mentally prepare. I pick a date and wrap my mind around the fact that, beginning that day, I’ll be giving up some things that I really like and want. The date I chose for my 3-month no cheese, no wheat, no chicken, no nothing I like diet was October 1, 2016. That would give me about 3 weeks to mentally prepare and eat a slew of cheese, chicken, bread and butter. 

When the 3 months were over, and I went for my doctor’s visit, I was looking forward to hearing the doctor tell me that I could get off of my program. Instead, he told me that it would be best that I continue for an additional 3 months, as 3 months really wasn’t an adequate amount of time. Though disappointed, I made the decision to continue on with my special diet. Six months passed, then a year . . . then another year. Overall, I lost weight and felt better, but the fibroids didn’t go away. 

About 2 years into the special diet, I woke up one morning to find a huge lump in my lower abdomen – in the exact same place that the two other super large fibroids had been. Over that 2-year period, there were times that I could feel the fibroids – particularly on the lower left side of my abdomen, but I could bear them. I suffered through several rough periods, but they hadn’t bothered me to the point of me feeling that I needed to pull the trigger on an extreme solution. 

As I layed in bed and looked toward my stomach, I saw what, to me, was the fibroid version of Mt. Everest. I couldn’t believe it. I had been working so hard to eat properly and was diligently going to the doctor to get my hormones checked and adjusted. But that morning confirmed for me that my solution wasn’t in the food. Frankly, I was fed up and pissed the fuck off. At that point, I concluded that I had tried. I had truly given a solid effort to see if there was more that I could do – naturally – to try to reduce the presence of and effects of the fibroids.

That next month, I had another procedure to help reduce the size of the fibroids. I didn’t want to do another major surgery, so I opted against a hysterectomy. Instead, I had a uterine fibroid embolization. It was much less invasive. After one of these procedures, though a woman can still get pregnant, it isn’t recommended. 

Last month made 3 years on this special diet. I was supposed to have taken the food sensitivity test again after the 6 month mark. I couldn’t bring myself to spend the money again. Yet, I wasn’t quite ready to eat a slice of pizza. Or regular, non-gluten-free bread. I figured that I had come so far and done so well over these years. My weight was where I wanted it and, aside from the fibroids, I felt pretty good. So, why stop?

The Frustrating Part

A restricted diet and restricted budget don’t go well together. 

While on this debt free journey, my relationship with food has become one with very little love and a whole lot of hate.  Once I got serious about finances, my diet of salmon, scallops, crab and shrimp was much too expensive. It wouldn’t work. I wasn’t willing to continue to spend the money that I had been spending. The dining out was cut and the grocery budget (even though there really wasn’t a “budget” because I bought whatever I wanted from the grocery store) was slashed. Super slashed. 

A restricted diet and restricted budget don’t go well together. 

~ Single Girl

It’s been a challenge for me over the last few months. Seriously. And I’m still trying to figure out how to make my diet work while on this journey. There’s the financial side and the health side to consider. I’ve been incorporating other foods that I hadn’t been eating previously. The only non-red meat protein option that isn’t chicken (highly reactive food for me) or seafood (too expensive) that I’ve been consuming is turkey (mildly reactive for me). But, I’m not so sure that I should be eating as much of that as I do, either. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are a staple in a common debt-free diet, but gluten- free bread is much more expensive than regular bread.  Ramen noodles (which I actually like) could be a cheap snack or meal, but . . . they are made with wheat. So, that’s not an option for me. 

What’s even more frustrating is that the benefits that I got  from having such a restricted diet aren’t as apparent as they once were. My body is not responding  to the diet like it did before. My weight has gone up gradually over the last few months. I’ve got to figure out what to do to get it back down to where I like it – again, without blowing my budget. It’s one thing to be broke. I really don’t want to be broke and fat (yes, I said it). 

I’m also at the point where I’m wondering if I even need to continue on the diet at all.  It’s been 3 years now, which is way longer than the 6 months the doctor said I needed to give my body time to reset. I could probably easily get some answers by just taking the food sensitivity test again. But, I don’t want to spend several hundreds of dollars on it right now.  Instead, I’ve started to read a book called The Plan: Eliminate the Surprising “Healthy” Foods That Are Making You Fat — and Lose Weight Fast. In the book, author Lyn-Genet Recitas outlines a way to test your reactivity to food on your own. I intend to take the time and steps to do my own testing to see if I can get a grip on what I should be eating to feel as good as possible and keep my weight in check as well.  We’ll see what happens.

Fibroids, Food and Frustration – Part 1

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Audio version of this post, read by the author.

I promised in a previous post (see Thou Shalt Cook – A Debt-Free Commandment) that I’d provide more details on the nature of my diet and why I eat the way I do. Let me start by giving some background.

Attack of the Demon Fibroids

When I was about 29 years old, I was told that I had abnormal growths on my internal lady parts. With her finger in my vagina, my gynecologist asked me rather casually, “Anyone ever told you that you have fibroids?”

Ahhhh . . . nooooo. 

Uterine fibroids are smooth muscle tumors – usually benign, non-cancerous – that grow in a woman’s uterus. They can grow in the lining of the uterus or be attached to the uterus by way of a stalk or stem. They can be small, like a pebble, or grow to the size of a grapefruit. Depending on their size and location, they can change the size, shape and position of the uterus. In extreme cases – medically described as a “giant” fibroid – a fibroid can be the size of a pumpkin and weigh over 25 pounds. 

According to Our Bodies, Ourselves 2011, “about 30 percent of women get fibroids by age 35 and almost 80 percent of women will have fibroids by age 50.” Though most women will eventually have them, they are often non-problematic. To the extent that the fibroids don’t impact one’s menstruation, romantic life or quality of life, they’re pretty much a non-issue. For others, fibroids can cause heavy bleeding, pain during intercourse, and infertility. 

I first heard about fibroids when I was 10 years old. I remember my mother telling me that she was diagnosed, while she was pregnant with my little brother. She didn’t do anything about hers. They didn’t give her any trouble. 

I opted to not do anything about mine, either. As far as I could tell, they weren’t bothering me. Though I had always had terrible periods, I thought that’s just how my body was. As a teenager, I’d be paralyzed by menstrual cramps (yes, actually paralyzed in my seat, unable to move) every month. I also had a very heavy flow. Again, I assumed that this was just how periods went – or, at least, my period. 

In my early 30s, the fibroids became a problem. By this time, intercourse started becoming noticeably more uncomfortable. Sometimes, it was flat out painful.  Eventually, I could actually feel the tumors in my lower abdomen. On my left side, just above my bikini line, when I touched my stomach, I could feel a hard bump – a little hill in my belly. When looking at a profile of my body in the mirror, I could also see where my lower stomach protruded. It seemed that I had one particularly out of control fibroid. And it continued to grow. 

When I was 32, the fibroids started affecting my bladder. I was waking up often during the night because my bladder simply couldn’t hold much. The fibroids had gotten so big that they were pressing on my bladder, decreasing the amount of space I had in there to contain my urine. At this point, these damned things were not only affecting my sex life, but also just my general quality of life. I couldn’t get a restful night’s sleep and I was spending too much time going to the bathroom. By this time, according to my doctor’s assessment of my ultrasounds results, my biggest fibroid was the size of a grapefruit. I’m not a big woman. I’m only 5 feet tall. At the time, I probably weighed 127 pounds. So a fruit-sized protrusion from my abdomen is noticeable. 

In 2010, I opted to have an operation – a myomectomy. It is a major surgery in which the fibroids are cut out of the uterus, while keeping the uterus as intact as possible. A great thing about the surgery is that it removes the growths; a bad thing about the surgery is that it impacts the integrity of your uterus. Once a woman has a myomectomy, in the majority of instances, her gynecologist will warn her that she should not plan on delivering a baby vaginally after the procedure. The concern is that, with the uterus having been compromised through the surgery (and being cut in a number of places), the risk of her uterus rupturing during labor is greater than if the uterus had never been cut. 

WARNING: MEDICALLY GRAPHIC IMAGES FOLLOW IN THIS POST

Generally, a woman at my age (32 at the time) who wants to have children should have a myomectomy with the aim of getting pregnant shortly after healing from the procedure. Though I had a boyfriend at the time, he was just a boyfriend – not a husband – so I had no pregnancy plans in mind. 

What mattered most to me was my quality of life. I was tired of not being able to sleep through the night. I was tired of the extraordinary bleeding. From a vanity perspective, I was irritated that I had a pooch tummy, even though I was in good shape. 

The fibroids that were removed during my 1st surgery in 2009. The measure on the left is in centimeters. The big one is 7×9 centimeters.

These Demon Fibroids Won’t Go Away!

About 4 years after my first myomectomy, I woke up one morning and couldn’t urinate. It was physically impossible for me. I began to panic. I was used to, at some points during the month, having to press a little on my lower abdomen to ensure that my bladder was empty. Eventually, that morning, I was finally able to use the restroom, but I knew that something was amiss. 

I went to see a urologist and was told that, indeed, something was impacting my bladder function.  The fibroids had returned. Apparently, it’s a very common occurrence. Depending on the woman, the myomectomy can turn out to be a temporary fix, not a permanent one.  I didn’t realize that when I opted for the first surgery. 

My periods got progressively worse. Over time, a big fibroid, in the same location as the previous mammoth one, was protruding from my stomach, making even the wearing of a seat belt an uncomfortable proposition. I was planning life activities around my period because there was always a risk that I would be bleeding all over the place. I was in constant fear of soiling my clothing or a car seat (which happened more than once; my poor boyfriend at the time was traumatized).

I was also in an extraordinary amount of pain every month. One day, I was working and the pain was so severe, that I literally crawled on the floor in the office to get to the bathroom. Pain medications weren’t working; the blood was excessive, and I was hating my body and my life. A male colleague of mine, who was working with me in the office at the time, was unwilling to let me drive home because I was in no condition to be coherent on the road. 

This led to a second myomectomy – even though I had just had one only a handful of years earlier. 

So, I have the scars of a woman who has had 2 C-sections, even though I’ve never had a baby. 

Fibroids that were removed during my 2nd surgery. I grew several sizeable fibroids in the period of time between my surgeries.

Time for the Big “H”

Things were going well after my 2nd myomectomy . . . until they weren’t. Once again, the fibroids were back – noticeably back. I could see and feel them – again! My gynecologist said that, at this point, we ought to look into a hysterectomy as a next step.

As I sat in his office faced with the suggestion that I, a woman in her late 30s without children, completely eliminate the possibility of ever carrying a child, I wasn’t really open to his suggestion. Before I went to his office, I expected him to encourage a hysterectomy as a next move, but I wasn’t sure that I was ready to embrace it. Obviously, we needed a non-myomectomy solution because I had already had 2 of those surgeries for the same issue in a period of less than 5 years. It would be ridiculous to think that I could just keep having surgeries periodically to remedy the issue. So, here I was again, with a uterus full of these fucking demon fibroids trying to figure out what step to take.  “You have a uterus that loves fibroids,” my gynecologist said. Apparently, I do. 

I didn’t cry  when I heard him mention the “H” word. Though I, intellectually, could fathom the idea that I might eventually have to have a hysterectomy, I wasn’t willing to tear out my uterus quite yet. Before taking that step, I wanted to be sure that I had done everything I could possibly do to fix the problem. Yes, I had already taken extreme measures by having 2 major surgeries, but, was there something else I could do? Anything? In response to my doctor’s recommendation, I was thinking, “Eh, I hear you, but I’m not quite ready to do that.” 

[To be continued . . .]