Ok. So. It isn't actually a vagina. But it does kind of look like a little pink vajajay. Let me be clear, I have no envy of the miracle of life. I don't have vagina envy. I have never wished for a clitoris or a visit from the "monthlies." I don't see pregnant women and hate them for their ability to bring forth new human beings. Actually, when I see pregnant women during the summer months, I want to shake them and tell them to wait until winter before getting knocked up next time. It's just too damn hot to walk around with an extra person floating around in ones midsection.
No no, my little, rapidly shrinking (to use the word of my ex boyfriend who couldn't remember how to say the "C" word in English) cunk, is actually the left over remains of a staph infection on my left teste.
Talk about disgusting (the staph infection, not vaginas. Vaginas are a gift from God and should not be disparaged, particularly by stupid sexist men).
At the end of last week, I was just minding my own business when I started to get a fever. Both Thursday and Friday I felt like a big old ball of crap. My caca levels were extremely high. Then I noticed that my left nut had basically doubled in size. By Saturday, I was feverish, and I noticed that my nut had started to grow a mouth.
That's when I recognized the little beast for what it was. A staph infection. I had a staph infection once before...on my elbow and on my leg. The first time it showed up, I had no idea what the hell it was. I named it the Lump. That time, it didn't "open" by itself...and by open I mean it didn't create a fissure from which brilliant neon lime slime oozed out. That time, on the 4th of July, as I could hear the rockets red glare and all that shit, I took a cab to the emergency room, and the doctor shot my giant lump with Novocaine (aka liquid fucking fire)...and then sliced into it...and tried to suck out some of the juice with a plastic syringe.
That was about as fun as being fisted by Elizabeth Hasselbeck wearing Michael Jackson's glitter glove and holding a handful of rusted nails dipped in rattlesnake venom.
So, once I knew what this little (aka softball sized) nut affliction happened to be...it was off to the doctor. Before I left, however, I went to war on the nut. I squeezed it, and squashed it, and finally, using my bare hands, grabbed a handful of the banana slug that had taken up residency in my crotch, and yanked it out.
And there, left behind, was a vagina.
I stared, fascinated, at a 1/3 inch deep hole that was about a half an inch long. I had no idea there was that much space and/or meat between the surface of my nut sac and the actual testicle itself. The poor teste had fled to a lower part of the nut sac and was huddled against its twin brother, attempting to break through the pouch wall, and move into the other half of my ball sac.
The doctor actually told me that I was lucky that it had opened on my own cuz, in her words, "it saved me a cut."
The thought of an ER resident coming at my balls with a scalpel after, perhaps, a recent rough breakup from her long term boyfriend that she caught mounting a charge nurse, almost made me flee from the ER before getting my prescription for nuclear antibiotics. I figured I would take my chance with the flesh eating bacteria over the over worked, exhausted, bitter, Asian girl who might decided to buck the model minority stereotype and go all Nip/Tuck on me.
Now, less than a week after being on antibiotics, my little vagina is almost gone. Where once was a giant angry girl with a guitar vagina...oozing spooge and waving at passersby...is now a cute little innocent virgin vagina....not yet knowing the evils of the world and men...cute...pink...and gentle.
I will be happy when my little foray into intersexuality is gone.
Until then...I guess I get to check another box on demographic forms.
The human body is an amazing thing.