I like books.


I live in a small town and enjoy writing about the inhabitants. I spend most of my time perusing through used book stores looking for that one great book that I don't have; consequently, I have rooms filled with books. I am a book addict.

Friday, November 11, 2005

Warning: Vagina Talk Here!

About four years ago, I started going through menopause. I thought I was pregnant, what a nightmare, but found out that instead of being pregnant, I was doing the little pre-menopausal thing, missing a period here and there and then after a year of that, I began the missing periods for six months at a time and those god awful hot flashes began, not the little ones where I felt a little heat.

It’s funny, I remember what I was doing when I learned JFK had been shot, the first time I saw the Beatles, when Martin Luther King was killed, my first period, and all those first of adolescents. I may, someday, forget all of those things, but I will never forget that first hot flash. I could have heated an entire city with all that heat, and it came from deep inside and burned like hell, and I poured off sweat and in a flash, it was gone.

Well, I went through two really flashy years and finally the periods stopped, my mood swings returned to just manic and depressed, and I began to see the world optimistically again. I still had hot flashes but I wasn’t going to take hormones and felt they couldn’t last forever.

Then, after two years of no periods, I began having them again. Can you hear me say fuck that! My doctor found a great big old tumor, 18 pounds worth and for a while there was a question as to it being malignant or not and then they did a total hysterectomy. I refused the hormone replacement. I jokingly said, “If the chin hairs get too much, I’ll join the circus.” My little doctor, who looked all of ten, didn’t get it and so I just sat there. She gave me a cream, an estrogen cream, that she said I needed and she gave me a sex talk about how women and men in their 50s can still have great sex and I thought where the fuck is this coming from? So, she told me about Ky jel, and I thought honey I have had more sex, in more positions than you can even imagine and you are giving me a sex talk. But I smiled, tried not to laugh, and accepted her little brochures about sex after 50.

She told me the cream was going to keep my vagina young. I thought, my husband has a 55-year-old penis, why do I want a young vagina. She told me it would make sex easier, and I thought, I have fucking arthritis in my knees and hips, how easy does she think sex can be, but I smiled and took the prescription, even got it filled, and even used it for a week. I must say, I don’t like putting melting thick creams inside of me so I stopped. Bad mistake.

What she didn’t tell me was that keeping my vagina young amounted to keeping it from atrophying. Now who would have thought a vagina could shrivel up. Isn’t that every stretched out twats dream.

Then, I had symptoms of something, and when I took all those antibiotics for my pneumonia/strep throat I developed a terrible yeast infection, and so I took the requisite pill for that, and it didn’t seem to be going away. So, I got down the mirror, and I know you all know which mirror I am talking about. That mirror, the one that fits nicely between my legs and allows me to investigate my exterior genitalia. I haven’t done it in a while, looked at myself, but it was burning, and I figured first I will look before going back to the ten-year-old gynecologists. She, my vagina, looked differently. My three pubic hairs that I have cultured all these years, gone and the landmarks had changed. I searched the Internet for the solutions to my problem. After only a few hits, I found it, I have an atrophied vagina. I called the ten-year-old doctor and asked if it was too late to get my vagina back, and she says use the cream, and so I am using the cream.
I know this is personal and gross but I just wanted to share with all my blogger friends, all ten of you that just like breasts change, a vagina will change too. There should be commercials like the tampon commercial warning women that vaginas change. Now, I have a reason to avoid sex, I have an atrophied vagina, one that is fragile, one that will tear and burn, one that needs sitz baths, one that might totally disappear. Can you imagine, no vagina? By the way, Mr. Zelda is being very supportive of my anatomical dilemma. It’s true, you don’t miss what you have until it’s gone. Someone said to me that I should be glad that I don’t have periods and I am glad about that, but shit, there are so many things that the ovaries and uterus do besides make you bleed and cause cramps and make it possible to grow babies. There is hope on this horizon; my vagina can be repaired with lots of the cream and tender loving care. I wonder what 80 year-old women do? Will I, at 80, still want to maintain my vagina? Or will I say fuck this too and let her go? Is there a time when we should let our vaginas go and what about the penis? If it quits working should men risk a heart attack and take those hard-on drugs? Fuck, getting old is a pisser.


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