However I did tart up her Apple TV by putting THE VAGINA MONOLOGUES on her "recently watched" queue, there for anyone to see.
(In related news, I am available for dog sitting! I don't charge much, but on the other hand, I am not that good at it.)
It was actually the first time I'd seen The Vagina Monologues performed, but it reminded me of this post on the book from waaaaay back in 2012, a time when young, innocent us knew little of what complete assholes some of our fellow humans were.
Take my hand, will you, and travel back to that sweeter time when we could just hang out and talk vaginas.
(And if you're wondering, I still have a weird prudishness with the word "vagina." It's okay. I don't feel that bad about it. Even Eve Ensler, Little Miss Vagina Monologues
, wrote "Doesn't matter how many times you say it, it never sounds like a word you want to say." Which, yeah. I'm tentatively testing out "pussy" but it feels weird and obvious every time I say it, like "I am saying 'pussy' and we are all uncomfortable now.")*******
Today I'll tell you a quick story from the book I just read which is--this will come as no surprise to you--The Vagina Monologues
.I'm telling you the story because it's just so fucking heartbreaking but also to remind us (me) why it's important to talk about this $%$# even though some people (well, this one dude on reddit who said I'm like a 12 year old boy) think it's unladylike. (Motherfucker calling me unladylike! What the fuckity fuck?....oh...yeah...I see.)
In the story, Eve Ensler interviews an old lady from Queens who was extremely hesitant about talking about her "down-there." "What's a smart girl like you talking to old ladies about their down-theres for?" she barks. After much prodding, she finally tells about the last time she ventured down there, in 1953. The woman--let's call her, oh, Agnes--tells about a date she had with Andy Leftkov, a real catch, a cute tall boy who asked her to take a drive in his new Chevy.
She and Andy were sitting in the car, recalled Agnes when "he just kissed me in this surprisingly 'Take me by control like they do in the movies' kind of way. And I got excited, so excited, and, well, there was a flood down there. I couldn't control it. It was like this force of passion, this river of life just flooded out of me, right through my panties, right onto the car seat of his new white Chevy BelAir."
Instead of realizing he'd found himself one hot little number, Andy was horrified. He said she'd stained the car seat and that she was a "weird, smelly girl." Agnes tried to explain that the kiss had caught her off guard and that she normally wasn't like this, but Andy drove her home in silence and never spoke to her again. "When I got out and closed his car door, I closed the whole store. Locked it. Never opened for business again. I dated some after that, but the idea of flooding made me too nervous. I never even got close again," said Agnes.
Years later Agnes got cancer and the surgeons pretty much cleared out her reproductive system, thus ending any worries about flooding ever again.
When Ensler asks Agnes a typically squirm-inducing Vagina Monologues-esque question, "If your vagina wore something, what would it wear?" Agnes replies, "It would wear a big sign: 'Closed Due to Flooding.'"
As the interview ends, Agnes says, "You happy? You made me talk--you got it out of me. You got an old lady to talk about her down-there. You feel better now?" [Turns away; turns back.] "You know, actually, you're the first person I ever talked to about this, and I feel a little better."
Knowledge is power, brothers and sisters.
xoxox
jill
(photo source)
