DISCLAIMER: Hi Dad. Instead of reading this post, why don’t you check out www.learnaboutdinosaurs.com. Love, Your Daughter
I went back to Dr. Feel Very Good's today for my official postpartum checkup -- you know, the one where your partner gets the green light to hit that, and you discuss your birth control options with your OB so you don't end up right back where you started anytime soon. Anyway, the nurse took my blood pressure, and then, with cautious optimism, I stood on the scale.
I've actually gained seven pounds, which shouldn’t be at all surprising since I can only pull my skinny jeans to my calves before they get stuck.
After my weigh-in, it was time to talk birth control: I‘m a whack-job on oral contraception. The idea of an IUD bobbing around my uterus makes me nervous and twitchy. And, the whole breastfeeding as birth control thing obviously doesn‘t work for me. So, I told Dr. Feel Very Good that I wanted a diaphragm.
Well, Dr. Feel Very Good brought over a tray of eight diaphragms ranging in size from 12 Year Old Virgin to Geriatric Streetwalker. Seriously - the largest diaphragm looked about as big as Little Homie’s head. How can women let themselves go like that? Since about five minutes after giving birth, I’ve been doing my kiegel exercises religiously (if you ever see me sitting in repose, trust me, I’m actually very hard at work down there,) I laid back with my legs in the stirrups, my vajeen ready for inspection, confident that I’d walk away with a respectably small diaphragm -- not 12 Year Old Virgin Small, but close enough.
I stared at the ceiling while Dr. Feel Very Good rooted around my Lady Business for a while, palpitating my uterus to make sure it had returned to its original size.
Well, the good news is my uterus was nice and small.
But the rest of me? Not so much.
After getting a feel for my Lady Business, Dr. Feel Very Good looked over the tray of diaphragms. His eyes barely lingered on the smaller ones, and I began to get nervous. After all, one of the best compliments a woman can get from a man is “Oh baby, you‘re pussy is so tight!”
Clearly, my approach to parenting wasn‘t the only thing that had loosened up since giving birth to Little Homie.
After ignoring the Diaphragm Petite Section, Dr. Feel Very Good’s fingers skirted over the last three largest ones. I felt a stone of panic settle in my chest, and in sheer desperation, I frantically did a ten-set of kiegels. But it was too late. Dr. Feel Very Good selected the Geriatric Streetwalker diaphragm, folded it like a pita and slipped it in.
“How does that feel?” he asked from between my legs, and I swear I heard an echo.
I couldn’t even tell it was in there.
“Oh, that’s so uncomfortable,” I lied. “I think we need a smaller size.”
“Hmmm…” Dr. Feel Very Good said as he searched in vain for the Geriatric Streetwalker that had somehow gotten lost in my Lonesome Valley.