When my gyn found the aliens that were occupying my uterus, she asked me if I wanted surgery. Unless it was required, I did not want it. After months of taking pain pills, it was time to consider something more direct to assist me. During the summer, a woman happened to tell me about Seanjari Preeti. It was not long before I schedule a yoni steam and began my journey with the pearls. No, they are not white. They are small sacks of herbs that are inserted and worn for a few days. Afterwards, all sorts of alien material can be anticipated. Nothing happened with the first round of pearls; however, the second round produced strange looking debris. That was inside of me?
During this time of detoxification, a tug of war seemed to be taking place with my ovaries. The left one is being held captive by the cysts & fibroids while the right one remains free. There were several left twinges, but the right also decided to get into the mix. This was new. Apparently, they were balancing out. Now that I have seen the power of the pearls, what happens next? There are at least three more rounds of pearls in my immediate future, and a yoni steam or two. It has been a rather interesting experience.

Womb Experience: The Effects

My ovary hurts every month. It makes me consider a surgery that I do not really want. The time finally came for me to go further than rubbing oil on myself; it stops the pain. The yoni pearls were a bit premature considering I once lost a tampon. However, the yoni steam was something that I have wanted to do for a while now. I opted for the full womb sauna experience. It was everything that I wanted; meditation, steam, cards, discussion.
It was not long before my bra became uncomfortable. It became customary for me to take it off halfway upon entering my home. It gradually progressed to me tugging at it during the day while at work. Now, I want gel caps so that I do not have to wear a bra at all. Bed time also began to call for au natural. These are major changes for a girl that has a separate attire dedicated to slumber. It suddenly crossed my mind that perhaps these changes were happening due to the womb sauna. My practitioner commented that perhaps I was getting more comfortable with my body. My major weight loss in 2009 really made me feel comfortable with myself. It inspired a modeling session. After sharing this with her, she suggested having my body painted. A smile crossed my face. It is something that I have been wanting to do for years and even thought about it for this coming Halloween. Look at how the universe responds to your true desires.


The cramps have begun. Between my oil and giant pills, the pain game is being played. I have been fighting with my damn uterus since the adolescent scandal of 13. In spite of the fact that I have a bikini wax scheduled for the morning, my menstrual cycle has decided to arrive and make my left boob feel like an alien has invaded my body. The ginger candy and hot fudge topping round out my dinner. I wonder if my monthly pain payments and period regimen (sleeping on top of towels, dark colors, all kinds of pads filling my purse, etc.), are accepted as a deposit towards pregnancy. Mother Nature needs to sit down with us and explain this. Women get upset over menopause, and I am trying to figure out why…..


Trying to find the hospital in the city is like running through a maze in the dark. The directions were wrong. The traffic was moderate and there were lots of people that looked important running around in suits. When I finally arrived, valet parking was delayed so I hightailed it for the garage. The second floor was kind enough to provide my large vehicle with a space.
After I cleared security and adjusted to being in a place where people die, the elevators took me to the fifth floor where the gyn’s office was. An 11:00am appointment had been scheduled for me. After a weekend of violent mood swings and cramps before dawn, it was time for me to seek medical intervention. My abnormal behavior disturbed me.
There was an interview in a separate room prior to being seen for the main event. Am I sexually active. Why am I here. What was the date of my last period; I have an app for that. As my body settled into the second room, pictures of birth control suddenly popped before my eyes on the walls. There was a T looking contraption in a uterus. The sight of that drove me to tears. It looked simply awful. As the stinging tore at my skin, I wondered why there was such a heavy emphasis being placed on women to pop children out as their sole function in life. Before the door opened, the tears were washed from my face.
There is not a woman on earth that enjoys a vaginal exam, myself included. Between the insertion and the pressure, there is simply no relief until you are away from the office. The polite conversation fell on my sexual practices. One is supposed to feel free discussing this with a complete stranger but then you remember that it is a medical individual; you carry on. The results of my last pap were requested and there I was on my way. It took me over thirty minutes to locate my car but after crying in the office, I figured that it was right in line.
As the hospital faded into the distance, a Jamaican beef patty crossed my mind. So did my 3:30pm appointment.

Why I Hate My Menstrual Cycle

Dear Uterus,
I think that it is time that you understand how I feel about you. I have tried to keep the peace by purchasing different types of products to accommodate your various moods. You care nothing about my precious underwear or my life. You bleed for unreasonable lengths of time and cause bottles of Alleve to simply appear. Friends have begun delivering hot fudge sundaes to appease my ridiculous cravings.
There have been medical interventions since the day you arrived; the ultrasounds! I have tried to embrace you by wearing red bracelets to honor your presence. The fact of the matter is that I hate it when you are here and love it when you are gone. You interrupt my life as I know it. Sex is put on hold. Let me repeat that to you. Sex is put on hold. Suddenly, I am in pain and experience strong emotional upheavals. Lest we forget the trauma that you caused earlier this year. I was screaming first thing in the morning and crying prior to noon. My body spent the remainder of the day putting a hot air balloon to shame as I lay helpless on the bathroom floor.
I wore all black to work today. It was the perfect color. At approximately 10:45am, you decided to allow entire gallons of blood to gush forth like a flash flood. All of a sudden, my body felt flushed with heat. I thought that I was going to break into a sweat. As I reached for my chair, I quickly sat down so that the crimson waves could hopefully subside without anyone hearing sounds.
I do not want children yet there are stretch marks on my body. I am proud to be a woman and plan to reincarnate as this gender forever. Why on God’s green earth do I have to experience this “gift” every single month of my natural life is beyond my understanding. Why do women cry when they no longer get their period? I personally plan to have a party and invite all of my friends.
Perhaps in the future, you could be more understanding of the havoc that you cause. I will also be sending you a list of the type of underwear that I like from Victoria’s Secret. You owe me.


The vagina is something that never ceases to amaze me. She has so much going on and yet is so very quiet. She is often the topic of various conversations due to her mere existence. Why, there are even poems about her. As I age, she unfolds yet another mystery about herself that I did not know before. There are various substances that she produces with blood being probably the most popular. There are many lessons that she teaches without pregnancy even being on the table. However, I was on the table yesterday. My vagina taught an entire class. We took notes.

It was high time for me to go in for a physical. While I do believe in scheduling appointments to see all of my specialists, the one thing that I do not do is a physical. Yes, my beloved PCP has spoken to me sternly about this practice of mine which I would not enforce on anyone else. I just get to the point where I do not want to see anyone else. When I go in to have my teeth cleaned, there is the oral hygienist and the dentist. Both of them want to be in the middle of my mouth with shiny sharp instruments that do not please me. The dental hygienist likes to sing while that damn brush thing is squeaking so that I have to plug my ears. I like the dermatologist. Her face is absolutely beautiful with such vibrant skin. Her office is the place to be with such beautiful d├ęcor and the ladies at the front desk look like fashionistas. I am in and out of her office within ten minutes. The most painful thing being parking. Naturally, these professionals have painted a nice picture for the one that women around the world love and hate: the ob/gyn.

Yesterday was the first part of my physical. An intern saw me which has happened before and is always pleasant. Before I saw her, the womens’ health practicioner spoke to me about my head wrap. As we spoke, my mind reflected on the first time that she saw me. I felt as if she had treated me like her own child; an instant adoption. She told me all about her background prior to going into a breast exam. Then there was the wonderful speculum. I requested that she use the small one. She blinked and politely informed me that she would use the small one; however, if she could not see what she needed to see that she would have to upgrade to a larger one and that we wanted to avoid going in twice. Loud laughter soon filled the room as there was no way to contain myself.

The intern happily came to attend to me. She updated my medical history to include the sciatica and c4 tales of woe. She asked if I wanted to have a pap. My mind thought about how much easier it would be to have it done right now instead of going all the way to the hospital to have my main ob/gyn take care of it and then fork over the hefty copay thanks to my lovely new insurance company. A bright yes was soon heard, and I wrapped myself in my nice scarf in anticipation. What happened next can only be described as a side comedy show. My vagina was about to be the subject of study for the intern.

When the practicioner arrived, we laughed and began talking about my head wrap. The intern had to begin with a breast exam which of course prompted many a comment from me including laughter. She was stopped by her teacher, and my thigh suddenly had tapping of sorts. The intern was then instructed to continue with the exam and my laughter subsided; the tickling had stopped. I looked at the teacher in awe. She had applied her expertise to the current situation and showed the intern how to prevent such stimulation. They soon moved on to the main topic of the day.

The stirrups were brought out. They were naked. I inquired about the footies because I felt as if they should have had purple footies to make the process easier. The teacher began wiping them down and said that she thought that they were better without footies because of constant germs clogging the cloth. However, she went on to say that next time they would have footies just for me with cartoon faces. This took care of my footie desire. It was quite interesting to hear the two of them speak in medical terms about my vagina which was now with company and being used as a diagram. There is a distinct difference between a gyn exam and an ob/gyn exam. This was very interesting to me because ob/gyn is said as one word when in fact they are two.
My former thoughts resurfaced: my god, doctors do not consider any hole sacred. They will go into your nose, ear, throat, back door…all in the name of your health. The small speculum was used which immediately prompted a question that was met with the answer of Virgin Mary. It remained there longer than I would have liked but felt the sympathies of the two women. I was soon thanked for being a willing party for the lesson, and felt quite happy to have been the test subject. My vagina is now a teacher!

My mother would probably pass out if she knew that I wrote this because it is of a rather personal nature. While this is true, every woman has to go through this process, and I do not see the harm in discussing it. I once exclaimed to one of her friends that they never talk about what goes on in the pregnancy room and that the younger generation (ME), needs to know. Why do I have to wait if you already know?! Tell me! She dropped details like a stripper on a pole. Men would do well to understand the process as well so that they understand why their significant others may not want to have sex for a while. So here, I have done it. It is yet another chapter in the life of a woman. This one just happens to be a bit more colorful than most. Cheers.

The Vagina IV: Maintenance and Upkeep

Pluck. Shave. Design. Blood. Itchy. Wax. Tweeze. Every woman is familiar with these words in relation to her sacred yoni part. Each woman has a different approach to her secret place. Some have standing waxing appointments for the entire enchilada while others yet prefer the raging bush of the jungle. Its a matter of preference really. The mere mention of a beach outing or an intimate night can often send a woman into a trimming fit. What some find natural and appealing sends others into a tantrum. Where did all of this originate? It could be concluded that men’s fantasies have played a role into this scenario. Women often consult their significant others of their preference when it comes to this subject. I prefer to consult my own preferences when it comes to my body but to each her own. There is even speculation that some shave it into designs and add dye. While that is a bit much for my own personal taste, art is to be placed on a high level. Whatever the punany regimen of the female, the maintenance and upkeep of the almighty pussy is a full time job.