My Vagina
my vagina...
My vagina is tired.
TIRED!!!
My vagina got an early start.
Though my mother *did* tried to protect it when I was little.
"Where are your hands!??"
She would say every night. I was not allowed to go to bed with my hands under the covers. I was so young I didn't even know why. She never really told me why either. But I felt appropriately scared and ashamed anyway.
When my vagina was 11 it met an older neighbor boy. My vagina knew nothing about itself yet. It didn't bleed. It didn't know what a hymen was nor did it know what the term "virgin" meant. And it didn't learn about the latter until it wasn't one.
Boy, was it pissed!
The protection my mother had given it as a very young girl seemed to disappear over night. Everyone abandoned my vagina except the older neighbor boy.
My vagina spent the rest of it's formative years doing what it was told "girls like me" did. It never got anything out of it except maybe dinner and a movie. It was no big deal. No earth shattering pleasure. Certainly nothing like the movies. Although it learned to fake it well. It found a definite correlation between 2nd, 3rd and 4th dates to it's good performance. Pump up his ego = get more attention.
"Even trade." it thought.
Usually it wasn't even thinking about the activity except hoping it would be over soon so it could get to the movies on time.
Eventually my vagina began to think that there must be something wrong with it. It began to try to find the reason why it was no big deal.
It tried humor,
"You aren't supposed to like it! Just lay back and think of England."
It tried reason,
"Maybe that son-of-a-bitch Dr. who cut my clitoris hood open at 6 ruined me."
It tried chastising itself,
"You're too dumb to know how."
It tried denial,
"Orgasms don't really exist."
Then resolution,
"You aren't one of the lucky one's who like it. Deal with it!"
My vagina has seen the face of a demented Dr., a rapist, a child abuser, an abortionist. It regretfully released 3 miscarriages and was the last person to hold my son born-still in 1987. It stretched wide to welcome 3 babies into the world, it refused to open at all for one. My uterus wasn't really cooperative about it either. My vagina has seen so many penises it lost count. AND it was married twice.
WHEW!
My vagina is tired just talking about it!
My vagina was busy, busy, busy. But always it was lonely.
Through all of this, my vagina never once entertained the thought that perhaps it just needed another vagina to talk to. It was not in denial. It really NEVER even crossed it's mind. It never thought that perhaps PERHAPS there was nothing wrong with it at all... it was just the company it had been keeping.
My vagina decided to go on permanent vacation in 2006. With another vagina. Huh... My vagina is a lesbian. Who knew?
My vagina is tired.
TIRED!!!
My vagina got an early start.
Though my mother *did* tried to protect it when I was little.
"Where are your hands!??"
She would say every night. I was not allowed to go to bed with my hands under the covers. I was so young I didn't even know why. She never really told me why either. But I felt appropriately scared and ashamed anyway.
When my vagina was 11 it met an older neighbor boy. My vagina knew nothing about itself yet. It didn't bleed. It didn't know what a hymen was nor did it know what the term "virgin" meant. And it didn't learn about the latter until it wasn't one.
Boy, was it pissed!
The protection my mother had given it as a very young girl seemed to disappear over night. Everyone abandoned my vagina except the older neighbor boy.
My vagina spent the rest of it's formative years doing what it was told "girls like me" did. It never got anything out of it except maybe dinner and a movie. It was no big deal. No earth shattering pleasure. Certainly nothing like the movies. Although it learned to fake it well. It found a definite correlation between 2nd, 3rd and 4th dates to it's good performance. Pump up his ego = get more attention.
"Even trade." it thought.
Usually it wasn't even thinking about the activity except hoping it would be over soon so it could get to the movies on time.
Eventually my vagina began to think that there must be something wrong with it. It began to try to find the reason why it was no big deal.
It tried humor,
"You aren't supposed to like it! Just lay back and think of England."
It tried reason,
"Maybe that son-of-a-bitch Dr. who cut my clitoris hood open at 6 ruined me."
It tried chastising itself,
"You're too dumb to know how."
It tried denial,
"Orgasms don't really exist."
Then resolution,
"You aren't one of the lucky one's who like it. Deal with it!"
My vagina has seen the face of a demented Dr., a rapist, a child abuser, an abortionist. It regretfully released 3 miscarriages and was the last person to hold my son born-still in 1987. It stretched wide to welcome 3 babies into the world, it refused to open at all for one. My uterus wasn't really cooperative about it either. My vagina has seen so many penises it lost count. AND it was married twice.
WHEW!
My vagina is tired just talking about it!
My vagina was busy, busy, busy. But always it was lonely.
Through all of this, my vagina never once entertained the thought that perhaps it just needed another vagina to talk to. It was not in denial. It really NEVER even crossed it's mind. It never thought that perhaps PERHAPS there was nothing wrong with it at all... it was just the company it had been keeping.
My vagina decided to go on permanent vacation in 2006. With another vagina. Huh... My vagina is a lesbian. Who knew?
Labels: abuse, childbirth, I said vagina 17 times now 18, lesbian, my vagina (19), sex, vagina monologues (20)
posted by nina michelle at 12:50 PM
