I cheated on Sparkly Wand today. Yes, everyone, I had a date with Sparkly Wand’s bad-boy cousin, InSPECt’er Cavity. He was nothing like Sparkly Wand; he was cold, hard and frankly quite hurtful. I’ve tried apologising to Sparkly Wand. I’ve told him it didn’t mean anything. But Sparkly Wand is sad; he might need to borrow Sad Pony for a while.
InSPECt’er Cavity, a gynaecological instrument of torture designed by the Spanish Inquisition … or possibly Christian Grey … subjected me to the kind of test that Human Rights activists should protest against with placards and angry letters to their politicians. Forget water-boarding, these vaginal forms of torture are being performed right under our noses, in clinics everywhere, and we’re all being seduced into believing that it’s for our own good.
I will omit the icky details of the exam, partially because even I, with my totally desensitised mind, don’t want to relive the experience, but mainly because I really like you guys and wouldn’t want to put you through the torture. For those of you with an imagination, now is not the time to exercise that gift; and for those of you without, be grateful.
As my Consultant, InSPECt’er Cavity’s wing man, prepared me for the InSPECt’er’s assault, his nurse and I joked how fortunate men are with their appendages with no speculums (speculii?) in their futures and if the males of the species had to give birth, the world would come to an end. Great idea!! Poke fun at the guy who is elbow deep inside you with a plastic yawn.
I do not have an intelligent vagina; no smart IQ points were found in my “down there.” On the contrary, it turns out that my husband’s super swimmers may be working in a hostile environment. Whilst they diligently come to work every day ready for action, my cervix is slamming the door in their faces. I fear I may have to kick my own vagina off Team Vagina. She’s letting down the sisterhood. Traitorous Bitch!!
InSPECt’er Cavity and I have history. A few months ago, before I met Sparkly Wand, I had a tentative first date with InSPECt’er Cavity. His team of doctor and nurses drinking buddies thought it would be a fun idea to inject me with a dye and see if my uterus glowed, like Ana Steele’s head would if someone shone a light in her ear.
I was prepared for the test, or at least I thought I was. The doctor warned me that there may be a slight pain and then proceeded to give me antibiotics and analgesics, with a street value of about £1000, to be inserted into every imaginable orifice before the test, you know, as a precaution.
I’ve become a bit of an expert at interpreting doctor speak. If they say, “this won’t hurt a bit,” prepare for a little discomfort. If they try to prepare you with a “you’ll feel a slight pinch,” you should know that it’s gonna hurt like a son-of-a bitch. And if they actually ever admit that “this might be a little bit uncomfortable,” you should prepare your last will and testament. If any of those statements is accompanied by prophylactic painkillers, run, run away as fast as you possibly can, but remember to take the drugs with you, you can sell them to make your way across the border.
InSPECt’er Cavity was a real douche. Imagine someone shoving a duck’s beak inside you and then asking it to quack … loudly.* He wasn’t sensitive and careful, not like Sparkly Wand. His rough and ready attitude caused me a slight injury and I swear my vagina felt like it was on fire, and not in the cool King of Leon kind of way. I honestly thought that I would never pee again, never mind have the ability to procreate. There are not enough painkillers, or mind-altering drugs, in the world to block out the memory of that pain. I could feel what the walls of my house feel when I’m having a party. There was a party in my vagina, complete with hot chili and tequila, and I wasn’t invited.
After that test I swore I would never see InSPECt’er Cavity again and I really meant it at the time, especially after I met Sparkly Wand. But then he flirted with me, showered me with a compliment or two and solemnly swore, “I only want to see you naked, I promise I won’t take any pictures,” and this stupid gal fell for it. Well, I could never resist a bit of a bad boy.
But, now I know better. Sparkly Wand, I make this promise to you. I will never see InSPECt’er Cavity again…. at least I hope not.
*I came up with this duck analogy ages ago, and when searching for an image I discovered that speculum has another definition, “a bright iridescent patch of colour on the wings of certain birds, especially ducks.” True Story!! I couldn’t make this up.
- Go Team Vagina!! (storkhunting.com)
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- 7 Ways We Could Kill Mitt Romney With Our Vaginas (thoughtcatalog.com)