I am sitting at work now, writing this.  I have twenty-five minutes to use up you see before I leave.  As it is work has been exceptionally dull and it has occurred to me throughout the day that I should write this, but I have neglected to do so until now.  There is only one thing I can write about today.  Something exceptionally personal to me and normally I would not choose to share it with any who read this, but I think this is a subject that might do everyone some good.  This blog is only Part I you understand.

Today I go for my first HIV test.  Part II will conclude with the results.

I have extremely mixed feelings about all of this.  I have not been “loose” or “foolish” but neither have I been a fanatic with the use of condoms.  I do not think I have HIV, but neither did my two uncles.  One is now dead of AIDS some ten years past; the other still lives with the HIV virus.  Uncle A was what one would kindly refer to as sexually active, what one would meanly call a slut, in the 80’s.  He contracted some multiple strains of the virus and was dead in what seemed no time at all.  Uncle B has been in a monogamous relationship some twenty-years, but five or six years ago was having trouble with his partner and involved himself in a one-night stand.  He now tests positive for HIV.  With examples such as that in my life how can I not be tested when I too have had sex without a condom?  It doesn’t matter how small the chances—it matters that it only takes one mistake to ruin your life.  I have to know because to subject others to my body when it might be infected is foolish and murderous on my part.  I cannot accept that.

What angers me the most about all of it is that were circumstances different I might very well still be a virgin today.  While I have never referred to my first time as rape, it certainly wasn’t consenting either.  I was extremely drunk, you understand, and trusted the wrong person.  I wasn’t particularly attached the idea of being a virgin so it wasn’t the act that bothered me half as much as the fact he didn’t use a condom.  I have given blood since then and blood is required to be tested by law, at which point I would have been notified had anything turned up, but that isn’t the same as a test.  The idea that one night of drunken stupidity, misjudgment on my part, may have cost me my life and could lead to me destroying the lives of others will not let me rest.  A bit melodramatic perhaps, but read the previous paragraph.  Two people I love have suffered due to one mistake.  How can I play the odds when so obviously the odds are stacked against me?

So the worst part by far is the waiting.    Now that I have decided it must be done it is all I can think about.  Before I just pretended it didn’t need to be done.  But I am too smart, and have been too dumb in the past, to ignore the necessity.  So now I go.

Perhaps you will judge me based on this blog—perhaps you will be angry with me for getting so personal on you.  I know not.  But I know there are others in my situation be they someone reading this or not. 

I do not regret my sexual history—at least not usually.  Now I just hope the price isn’t too high for my lack of belief that playing with fire gets you burned.  One night of being too drunk with the wrong guy and now here I sit typing this.  For any other fat girls out there reading this please take this to heart: don’t count on your weight to save you.  When a guy decides he needs a vagina to fuck he doesn’t care how big the exterior is surrounding it.  Especially if you’re too drunk to catch on to what’s going on until it’s too late.