Under the knife

29 Sep

I had surgery last week. Got myself a little “bikini scar” to mark the occasion. It wasn’t a cosmetic procedure and it wasn’t an emergency either. I had the surgery to reduce the severity of my periods and improve my fertility. It was also exploratory in the sense that my lady-bits were up for inspection. I’ve been told that everything is in working order. I just need to find a man willing to breed with me, or rather, I have to find the will to breed with a man. It’s not an indictment of men, but rather of how I feel about children.

I like kids – certain kids – specifically, other people’s kids. At the end of the day, they’re not my responsibility. I have a cat and he’s pretty much all the work I’m currently willing to do in the parenting department. He brings me lots of joy and love, as I’m sure my own child would, but sometimes I just don’t feel like cleaning the litterbox or vacuuming the fur off my sofa, rug, coffee table, bedspread, computer desk, etc. It’s not that I’m lazy or that I would be a lazy parent. I know myself. If I had a kid, he would be the centre (I live in Canada, get over it!) of my universe and I’d be one of those helicopter-parents whose children I currently teach at university. I’ve seen the long-term results of helicopter-parenting and I just don’t want to add more to the population of self-absorbed and insecure young adults with an undeserved sense of entitlement. So for now, I am not breeding.

Since my first consultation with the surgeon about 10 days ago, approximately 25 people have seen my cooch. This includes a female friend who has a freakish obsession with scars and surgery. This exposure, or should I say, the exposure of these people to my cooch has removed my almost three-decade-long fear of nudity. Since I was old enough to know naked from clothed, I have been hiding my body. Once I could bathe myself, I never let anyone, including my own mother see me fully naked. I’ve only subjected my current boyfriend, “Captain Commando”, to brief flashes and glimpses. He hasn’t turned to stone yet, so I guess I should have realized that I’ve been overreacting.

Anyway, going under the knife last week has given me two insights – I like other people’s children and my body.

Before closing, I’d like to thank Ayn Rant, swampmusic and RetroVixen for their love and support during what turned out to be a not-so scary time. Still, knowing that prayers were going up for me meant a lot. I’d also like to say that I’m dying with excitement for Ayn and The Chief. Sweetness to come.


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