Also, wear a mask, wash your damned hands, and Happy Juneteenth. Additionally, Happy Birthday, Merry Christians and congratulations. Just wanted to get all the pleasantries of the past year or so out of the way. I haven’t forgotten about you cats and kittens; Carole did it. I should be all caught up by now, no?
How ‘bout that Cardi and Meg joint though? Don’t worry, this will not be another thinkpiece about the song, nor feminism, not womanism, nor Kylie. I won’t remind anyone about the Ying Yang Twins either. Seriously, you ain’t forget about them.
My only issue is that (well up until recently!) WAP forced me to remind myself that I am barely two months post-op. On June 12, ironically, the same day in which I got baptized and filled with the Holy Ghost 37 years ago and said Hello, Jesus, I said Bye Girl to my reproductive system. For years, fibroids had taken over my body. And I mean my whole body: fibroids, if left untreated, can grow and literally suck the life out of you. Hitting the likka bottle makes it worse. The pain makes your average menstrual cramps feel pretty darn good. They surely don't have you bleeding for over 10 days and passing out in offices and restaurants! Folks probably thought I was exaggerating when I was complaining often about not feeling well when my cycles came on, too. Shame on you all! Just kidding, I thought I was overreacting too, and not being the skrong Black woman society and Time Magazine expects us to be.
The excessive bleeding due to those monsters led to two trips to the ER—one trip turned into a two-night stay with two blood transfusions—and two PhD classes that I am now retaking in order to improve my GPA.
(You’d think I would spend the next few minutes typing about...I dunno...Black lives mattering, the coronavirus infecting, Biden VP-choosing, Tr)mp spewing, and school resuming after taking the summer off, right? If you are adamant about more on these subjects stop reading now.)
WAP is a trend how, huh? Where was all this praise for being “so damn wet!” in the 90s and hell, up to the last time I’ve seen some peen? This hysterectomy got me reminiscing of those times when I was like K-what? I wore my WAP like a badge of honor for some reason, not even realizing that part of the wetness was probably due to fibroid-related things going on, first of all, and that I was younger, with fresher milk, as my homegirl states. She’s over 50 and only dates women under 30. With no makeup and the biggest big-chop hairstyle possible before going bald, you’d swear her chick was actually her nephew. Well, at least I did. She brought her fresh milk to the bar right before the COVID and someone asked what we were all thinking, “are you 21 yet?”
She is, and, as they have morphed into relationship status, she is WAP personified, I’m guessing.
Meanwhile, I’m wondering -- with another grey hair growing loudly on the front and center of my head, and another hot flash gunning for the center of my torso -- how much work might I need to put in and how many more new moves or toys, or both, do I need to try to achieve pre-op juiciness I was once famous for.
The hot flashes though!!! Why don't we hear much about 'em? They are a thing.
Picture driving with the AC already on, or standing 6-feet away from others in a line at Office Depot. Chillin. All of a sudden...woooooosh! It's like the devil pitched a flaming baseball to the chest and you didn't know you were supposed to play catcher until it's too late and you've been hit. It goes away in a minute or so, but yikes. It truly is a flash and it causes me to flash ahead to how sex will now be even more interrupted. Between a loss of desire and a loss of being the cold one in the room, sex could possibly be overrated.
Again, yikes.
That line at OD could not have moved fast enough. And I know this is the South but must customers and cashiers converse all the time?!
I hear heterosexual experiences might not change at all though, and that the WAP party goes on. As things stand now, I wouldn’t know...
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