Scarred for Life – The Vagina Monologue
(this post originally published on www.thenastywench.blogspot.ca…now in its new home at www.thenastywench.com)
Some conversations are unpredictable, unavoidable and scarring. The portions of the exchange that I am about to share with you that appear in red are contributions from the voices in my head. I was only ever able to utter one phrase out loud but the voices in my head had a field day with this one.
To set the stage for this particular episode, you need to know who Crash is – Crash is a former coworker who, how shall I put this, had some personal boundary issues. Gets a little too close, unnecessary hugs, a little too enthusiastic about my perfume. Relatively harmless…I think…but isn’t that how all sexual deviants are described by their neighbours after they start digging up bodies in the backyard? Crash is, of course, not his real name but it is one he’s earned along the way, but that’s another story.
The setting: Crash stops by the shop early afternoon to pick up the dry diving suit he had repaired and couriered to the shop and to say goodbye, new job started today. He pulls out the dry suit to explain it to me (you have clearly mistaken me for someone who cares). It is a special suit that keeps the diver dry in cold conditions. After explaining the various features to me, he gets down to a little valve near the crotch that he feels the need to explain, it went something like this:
This is the elimination valve – divers tend to dehydrate so they must hydrate thoroughly before they go down. The result, they need to pee.
HHHhhmm, who would have thought, if you drink a lot, you need to go pee…Biology 101.
In a wet suit, you simply pee, the suit is wet and you just pee in it. It’s simply a body function that you need to do.
Ya, I don’t fkg think so. I don’t want to urinate in a rubber suit that is going to keep said urine snug up around my body. The idea of being enveloped in a layer of urine seems wrong a couple of different levels. Note to self: never rent or borrow anyone’s wet suit, people pee in those.
Since you can’t do that in a dry suit, you put a catheter in your penis and hook it up to this tube and use this valve to eliminate.
Too much information, way too fkg much information. No more words, just stop talking.
It’s a little more difficult for women since they are built a little differently.
No shit Sherlock. I think this is about to get much worse. An anatomy lesson from Crash.
They are coming up with devices now that women can use over their vaginas.
For the love of all things holy and unholy, stop talking. Shoot me now; this conversation cannot possibly be happening. Of all the things that I don’t ever want to hear Crash talking about, vagina tops that list. Not that I am uncomfortable with that particular word – vagina, vagina, vagina – see, there, I can use it. Just don’t want to hear it come out of Crash’s mouth. I’d be willing to bet he’s not a fan of them anyway.
It’s a special pouch / funnel contraption that is glued in place. Of course, that presents a problem with pubic hair so the vagina needs a shave.
He just said vagina again. And, he has just suggested shaving it and gluing something to it like having something glued to the vagina is perfectly acceptable. Pretty sure I am about to achieve spontaneous human combustion, I’ll just burst into flames to end this conversation. In fact, I’d welcome it at this point. This conversation cannot be happening.
I need to say something, I can’t handle this anymore.
“Gluing something to one’s lady bits seems like a bad idea.”
(This I manage saying out loud).
Lady bits? Where the hell did that come from? What am I, six? I know the term “lady bits” is a little juvenile but I cannot bring myself to say the word vagina to this man, I refuse. I will not talk to Crash about a vagina. It’s just wrong and I’m guessing something that he’s not all that familiar with, especially if he wants to glue something to it.
At some point, he finally stopped talking and I am still hoping to burst into flames, there are things in my head now that just ought not to be there. I can’t unring this bell, I can’t just make this conversation go away. For the rest of my life, I will always know that Crash talked to me about shaving a vagina and gluing stuff to it. Of course, I am aware that he wasn’t even using the anatomically correct term but I had no intentions of correcting him. You cannot shave that particular feature nor glue anything to it, it’s a moist internal structure. If the vagina is hairy, urinating in a dry suit is the least of your problems. Perhaps an aneurysm – that would be quick and relatively painless. At this point, I’m not fussy – spontaneous human combustion or a burst aneurysm, I’m good with either one.
Crash left the shop, I curled up in the fetal position under my desk, shuddering uncontrollably, ears bleeding from things they should never have heard. I tried to explain what happened to a coworker who found me there twitching but words failed me.
Scarred for life.
∼ the nasty wench ∼