Back in the day, I used to see my “lady parts” as parts of my body that were all about the form. Like “Oh wow, tits, mmmm those are nicely shaped.” And “Ahhhh yes. Vagina. Yes, that’s a good one.” They were aesthetic parts of my body that were just there to appreciate. No big deal. I never thought about why they were there. Never thought “what are these two lumps doing on my chest?” Didn’t occur to me to question their origins beyond their being made to be squeezed.
Now that I have had a baby, my lady parts are no longer fun accessories like a Prada purse, or an adopted child. They have a function. Like a job. It is like my vagina went from carefree summers in the Hamptons to being a coal miner in Chile. My vagina, once delicate like the wings of a fairy, and innocent like the day dreams of deer is now like a hardened 80’s rocker who recently kicked his addiction. “I’ve seen things…” is all that can really be said. And my boobs! Once gallivanting with the ease of a Venetian playboy, are now confined in shackles like a roman Gladiator waiting in the prison of the Coliseum.
All these sexy parts are no longer sexy. They are about as sexy as the DMV.
Now I know this isn’t going to last forever, and these feelings are just temporary reactions to the beauty of creating and sustaining a life and blah blah blah… I know that unless I breast feed her until things get very strange, soon my boobs will be mine again. And vagina, dear vagina, like a Vietnam vet your post-traumatic stress will too subside. Hopefully without the help of heroine…
But for all you ladies out there who have yet to house a human parasite in your precious sexy body… you should go out and have lots of sexy time. Today. Right now. Play with your boobs for the shits and giggles of it. Play with them, because they are not sensitive from the over stimulus of a piranha feeding off them. Put stuff into your vagina to remind you that things are supposed to go in there… not come out.