dear vagina, I'm sorry

Dear Vagina, 

I’m sorry.

There is no peppy upbeat happy ending like an episode of Full House. The Olsen Twins aren't going to kick off a one liner as the studio audience laughs on command. No, this is the untold story of Kimmy Gibler via my vagina.

My sweet, wonderful, female organ. What wonders you are. But for the love of God almighty, I apologize. I don't think either of us were prepared for labour, or what would come after. You went from a beautiful delicate flower to a venus fly trap (temporarily, mind you). 

I praise you for your elasticity, composure and tenacity after surviving the Texas Chainsaw massacre. And your ability to forgive.

This isn’t a horror story and I’ll spare you the gory details. What I will tell you is that every Mom-to-be will be receiving Anusol, Tucks wipes and extra heavy flow pads at their baby shower. You’re welcome.

How is it we women go through such horror and agony to find ourselves saying, “I could do this again” after a few months. Guilty as charged. And I HATED labour, heck I hated pregnancy. Whoever said pregnancy makes you glow is full of shit.

But to my darling body, I thank you for putting up with my idea of “fun”. Thank you for allowing more people to stare at you in 3 days than in your entire life. Thank you for being a vessel to birth a beautiful, healthy baby. Thank you for not ending up like Leo in Titanic or the Revenant.

I hear it gets easier after the first.

Please forgive me.

 

 

letter of gratitude vol. I

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