Tuesday, 29 May 2012

the V word

I talk a lot. To everyone and anyone. I love a good chat and I guess this is why people talk to me. To my closer friends this however is known as me being a ‘Mong Magnet’. For the most part it really doesn’t bother me. I enjoy hearing about people and their stories. I don’t mind them sharing their problems or confiding in me and I have learnt a lot from these conversations over the times. There are however times where that invisible boundary of courtesy and decency is crossed and I am left in complete bewilderment.

For example I met a man for the first time recently and within the first five minutes of meeting him he told me he was always told he’d never be able to have kids. Then explained very specifically why this was so. OK that was enough for me to start backing away but he kind of followed and discussed the genius that are testicles. Thanks for sharing not something I was really thinking about since I was still trying to figure out how I'd somehow gotten onto the topic of genitals. He is a nice guy and all, just not something I needed to know.

Today however was even worse. I had to go to the GP to get some paper work done. Couple weeks ago I spent the 2.5 hours wait I had there talking to a lovely lady whose son had a great time playing with mine. So when a seemingly nice lady struck up conversation with me today I had no hesitation in reciprocating. Things all went terribly pear shaped about 3 minutes in when she said to me “I’m here for my vagina.” Yes I know she said the V word. That’s ok I can say it, I can talk about it, I have no issues with the human body. I just reply “Oh, OK,” and hope to leave it at that. But oh NO she elaborated on to tell me about all the discharge and smell and pimples and ok enough you get the idea, then asked my opinion on to what it could be. As I am trying to delete this hideous alien puss filled image from my retina’s I simply say “I have no idea. Never had anything wrong with my Vagina.” I then did the whole pretend vibrating phone, urgent message, gotta go routine. Made rushed farewells and as I headed for the door she calls out to the whole doctors surgery “Glad your vagina is ok.” Yes it definitely is but mentally, I am permanently scarred.

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