Alright. If you know me, you know I am an open book. I don’t hold back. Especially in the name of a good laugh. So I am starting a new series here on the blog called Keepin’ It Real. Really, it can be about anything I just want to talk about and, in the process, keep it real. And I am going all in for the first installment. Putting it all out there at the risk of complete and utter embarrassment.  If you are a guy, you probably want to stop here if you want to keep your fantasies that women are all roses and butterflies south of the border!

Let’s just start this post by saying that I have not had many feminine issues. I have never had a yeast infection. I have had one UTI, which the doctor attributed to a “flurry of sexual activity.” Doesn’t that sound so wild, and fun, and …. young. The honeymoon phase of a relationship is a whole lot different than the two kids phase. The only flurry we have around here these days is snow flurries.

Then, there was that one time in college that I got one of those smelly bacterial infections. The prescription I was given warned me, ALL over the bottle, not to drink alcoholic beverages. I did not heed the warning. And miss a weekend at Mother Fletchers and the Freaky Tiki (I went to college in Myrtle Beach)?! Um, no. Grown-Up Sarah would like to smack College Sarah in the back of the head. That prescription warning was not just for fun because I don’t think I have ever been so sick in my life. I can still picture the toilet I spent hugging that night and next day. And I don’t think I drank again for, like, 2 weeks.

So you see, really, I have a very healthy, happy vajayjay. Until recently. When I got the Itch. What is the Itch, you ask?  Jock Itch. Also called, when on the foot, Athlete’s Foot. The irony is not lost on me. At this point in my life (or really any point in my life), Jock or Athlete are two words never used to describe me. And yes, women can also get Jock Itch. I know, I know, you hear Jock Itch and you instantly visualize toned football players in the locker room smacking each other’s asses. Not a 30-something mama of two with a muffin top sitting in her pajama bottoms writing a blog post on Jock Itch. But bikini line, groin, same thing. Same itch.

The Itch all started with some irritation in my bikini line that I attributed to razor rash. It seemed to mostly go away but would get itchy every now and then when I wore certain underwear. Fact – I need new underwear. Or to lose weight. Or, in the perfect world, BOTH. But because I refuse to buy underwear that could double as a sail, some of my undies are a little snug. So this cycle went on – I would think it was gone and then all of the sudden it would flare up and get really itchy! But then it was gone. So I didn’t think too much of it til it got itchy again.

Well, this last time, it was out of control itchy. Like, OMG-this-shit-is-itchy itchy. And then it started to burn. I decided this cannot be irritated razor rash. So I had to do secret internet research. Don’t want the kiddos to see any pictures that might pop up, don’t want the hubs to see me reading up on “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH MY CROTCH” (a very interesting and informative Google search, I assure you), and I certainly don’t want the creepy interwebs to start targeting me with advertisements about creams and vajayjay cleanses.

Based on my research, I determined it must be Jock Itch. It was only in my bikini line, which made me think it wouldn’t be a yeast infection, and it is winter here in Western New York, so there ain’t no air gettin’ up there. It is dark, and cozy, and warm. Apparently all things that Jock Itch likes. So I got some Jock Itch cream (for the hubs of course), and, let me tell you, nearly INSTANT relief. So I do believe my self diagnosis is correct.  Who knew. But please, for the love of all things chocolate, can we come up with a better name for this than Jock Itch?