i had a baby in july. with said baby came a 3rd degree NATURAL tear. yes, that’s right, her (then) tiny little head almost tore me a new one and i refused, from day 1, an episiotomy. but nope, it wasn’t 4th degree, so i guess that’s a good thing, right? cuz i’d heard of those 4th degree mommies. they can’t poop regularly, like ever. they can’t have sex, sometimes. there’s leakage. first of all ew, second of all AHHHH.the joy of this is knowing that, just like the fruit of my loins, i may do things at a different pace than others, but i generally do well anything i fully apply myself to. i apparently applied myself to this tear business.
how would you feel to have found out via a yoga pose, a spotted travel-vanity mirror and a yeast infection that your stitches had never healed properly?
cuz i’ve been smacking myself for the last 20 hours. well fuck, that’s why i can’t barely have sex. and why i only ever know it’s time to poop via pain. and how come thongs and tampons have become luxuries and not necessities. and the repeated infections. and the discomfort during sitting upright for long periods. or the crazy over-sensitivity, leading to superfast climax or none at all cuz it’s just too much. i could go on all day, but i’m pretty sure that you don’t want me to.
so, to put it all out there, i told one of my girlfriends about this little problem by using the tagline “my box looks like a venus flytrap” and she laughed. a lot. and then i laughed. and then i remembered that i have to get surgery to fix it. fuckbeans.
update: it seems that it may not be a case of mistaken stitching. it could just be growths. growths in my vagina. how do i think of that and not have the c word (s) pop into it my head? yes that’s right. potential cunt cancer. ahhhh.
