(Warning, this post deals graphically with the health of my reproductive organs and my sex life. Family and friends may want to skip this if such things bother them).
Hi there Ladybusiness, whats up?
Cervix: I have cancer.
Uterus: I have endometriosis.
Well, I have health insurance at last, so eat that.
Fallopian tubes: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WHY DID YOU HAVE US CUT AND BURNED YOU HARPY?
Ha Ha! Pain meds to the rescue, happily childfree forever.
OB/GYN– Well, since preserving your fertility is not an issue, lets do a hysterectomy and leave your ovaries.
Uterus: Uh, now I’m with Fallopian Tubes– what the actual fuck?
Cervix: I have cancer, I don’t even care.
I’ve always disliked you uterus. You’ve long seemed a subversive, even terrorist of an organ.
Uterus: I know we’ve had our differences, but friend, sister! It’s not my fault we disagree on the subject of babies to such a radical degree. Or that you went above my back and mangled your fallopian tubes about it.
Belly Button: GOD YOU BASTARDS OH MY GOD THE BRUISING WHYYYYYYY?
You know, uterus, ours has been a tempestuous relationship. You’ve caused me so much pain. I think you have borderline personality disorder.
Uterus: Bitch, please. I have endometriosis.
Fallopian Tubes: THE PAIN. THE PAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN. I WAS SO GOOD TO YOU. I NEVER HURT YOU. THE UTERUS IS PSYCHOTIC, THE OVARIES HAAAAATE YOU, I HEAR THEM TALKING ALL THE TIME! BUT I DID MY JOB! WHERE’S MY STAPLER I’M BURNING THE BUILDING DOWN.
Shut up, FT’s and Belly Button. Nobody cares. This is grown up time.
Cervix, we’ve been through some rough times. I don’t know if I want to have you removed. The idea weirds me out. I might not be able to orgasm anymore. Uterus, I hate you. There, I said it, I would say it again.
Uterus: FEELING IS MUTUAL YOU BARREN HARPY.
Cervix: Just, jesus, whatever. Stop Yanking chunks out of me, ok? Go all in or go home. I don’t even fucking know with you people.
OB/GYN– friendly reminder, your health insurance runs out in August, so, make a decision.
I might not be able to orgasm anymore. I’m not even 30, I cannot imagine the next 50 or so years orgasmless.
UTERUS: HA HA HA HA HA I WIN, I ALWAYS WIN!
I wonder when I’ll have recovered enough from this surgery to have sex again?
Cervix: Oh GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWD.
Belly Button: WHAT? No. No. You can barely wear jeans. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?
Scotch: Drink me, I can help with this choice making process.
I like you best of all, fine aged scotch whiskey. *side eye at ladybusiness*