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Sex: You’re doing it wrong

September 24, 2010

I am lying flat on my stomach. My view: oatmeal-colored shag carpeting, a blood-red pedicure. I am on pins and needles. Or more accurately, they are on me.

Twice a week for the next month, I’ll be visiting this pleasant but tiny room in a four-story building of artists’ workshops, alternative healers, a stationery store and at least one bead shop. I’ll press a buzzer outside and a cheery voice will call, “Hey, girl!” as Barbara buzzes me up for my acupuncture appointment. It is probably the most pleasant aspect of this entire project.

The same day I found out that Barbizon should be signing my uterus up for modeling classes, I was informed that the blood flow to said gorgeous uterus was “irregular.” Something about Dopplers, which seemed like it should relate to a thunderstorm, but in fact had to do with the potential for an embryo to cling to my uterine wall like Larry King to his talk-show set. Fancy-shmancy clinic prescribed twice-a-week acupuncture, and offered to do it themselves. I said I’d visit Barbara, partly because she’s nice, partly because she’s relatively affordable, but mostly because she gives you a hot-stone massage and chiropractic alignment while you’re lying there like a voodoo doll.

It’s interesting that a clinic that is the embodiment of western medicine, from its technology to its capitalism, wholeheartedly espouses acupuncture. I’ll even be having a round immediately before and after the embryo transfer.

Today, at my second appointment, Barbara checked my pulse on each wrist. After the right wrist, she proclaimed my lungs were functioning much better. After the left, she said my kidney had slacked off since Monday’s appointment. Nothing to panic about, but not where we wanted it to be. Apparently, Chinese medicine lungs and kidneys are only distantly related to U.S. lungs and kidneys. The lungs, Barbara told me, had to do with conception. The kidneys, she said, were the source of reproduction.

If I’d known that, I would have attempted procreation far differently. I’ve been having sex wrong for years.

Maybe I’m not infertile. Maybe I’m just inept.

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