Every woman is told that upon reaching maturity, and becoming sexually active, it is imperative that she visit her OBGYN and have her pap smear done combined with a physical. I have decided that it is a bane to my existence for many reasons, and while I do put up with it, my recent experience was more traumatic than enlightening.
I was overdue by 2 mths for my yearly examination and decided to get it sorted while I was slightly free. Hopped on over for my appointment and went through all the preliminaries. I remember someone saying they take time out and do the necessary preparations before going to the doctor. I am in that boat. I prepped myself nicely. Got my pudenda trimmed low, my body cleansed nicely, cleaned off the bikini area etc. Prepped as if I was going to my own wedding. I don't understand that knack in me, but I detest smelling sour genitals, and if my OBGYN is going to be all up in there, might as well make it fresh enough while he is down there. Well I was in for a strong surprise.
A young lady walked into the room and smiled with me. She identified herself as a nurse and proceeded to ask many questions. I answered all cheerfully because I knew this was the best part of the entire examination. Then she proceeded to ask me to undress and get prepared for my pap. My heart sunk. The thought of a foreign object entering my pleasure trove and just sitting there offering solely discomfort did not sit well with me. When she re-entered, I was thrown for I knew the doctors tend to carry out the examination themselves, and I was not all too comfortable with missy touching me.
First up, the breast examination.
Trauma level one. As she made circular patterns around the breast area showing me how to do it, she voiced her shock at the lack of response from me. As she so candidly put it, "You're not aroused? Most women get aroused at this point and I can tell by their nipple response." How do I inform her there is nothing arousing about having your breast rumpled in a waxing motion as if on trial for the Next Karate Kid? How do I tell her there is no pleasure in having cold hands scour your breasts and the feeling of dread flowing along your legs knowing that your pudenda will be invaded by a weird object in hopes of finding that door to the womb and the irritation you will feel as the brush scrapes along the sides in hopes of gaining a few cells for testing? How should I put it across?
She then pulled out the stirrups and asked me to place my legs upon them. Dread overcame me as I readied my body for that feeling of discomfort that always comes with it. With a lamp leering at my woman's mound and that demon at the entrance, I felt my body relax to allow the simple short invasion, only to have her try three times of insertion in order to locate her true goal. She actually said she was stunned that I was not excreting fluids to accommodate the tool and that my self control is wonderful. If it was so wonderful, why did I want to bicycle kick her into the wall? After that task, she proceeded to lube up her fingers and insert them to "check" my walls. I doubt she checked as I felt assaulted more than discomforted with her fingers grazing my walls and thumb thumping against my blushing nub. Did I feel a moment of tittilation? No. It was disturbing and I found it a bit different in terms of method compared to the other one. *smh* What a way to turn off my day.
As I put my clothing on, I did not have that satisfying feeling of it being settled as I usually have. The emotion I felt was as though I was violated and there was some pleasure being taken in it. My chest rose and fell as my body steeled itself against an invasion and my mind reeled with common expletives to hurl at my inspector. It felt wrong. This moment of usage left me feeling as though I was a common trollop whose John had just outed himself within my walls and tossed me several pennies due to my inability to perform.
Needless to say that task is complete and I am now another year rested from having to go through what they say we must. Oh the joys of being a woman. *sigh*
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
27 yrs and growing strong
Today marks another milestone in this plant called birth. I am where I need to be, striving to the ultimate victory in the epitomy of sprituality. Am I happy? Extremely.
Every birthday is a trivial situation and am normally left in the path of reminiscing as opposed to the partying. Each year, I look back at where I was analyzing what went wrong and what went great. I positively love all of my struggles both good and bad and at the age of 27, am proud to say I regret nothing. Never once. Everything is all about lessons and life steps.
At age 27, am a graduate, a wife, and focussed on being a mentor to younger people. Restoration of self pride is important and there in lies my goal of creating a medium for that change and evolution to occur. Will I say that I am perfect? No, perfection is a facade used to hide flaws, I am human.
27 yrs and growing. Bless the society for giving me that practice in the fight for individuality and learning to join it within the community. Blessings to the parents, Madame Present and Father Absent. To the women who instilled the pride of womanhood. The strength to uphold and endure that which I will come into contact with. Womanhood is a lesson learned, not an easy goal to attain. To the men in my family, I will be eternally thankful for the balance. The ability to identify and understand you in order to understand my mate, the good and the bad. To the ancestors, thank you for giving me one more year to continue your tasks which you started. And to my siblings, my baby bro, I love you. Each yr I grew, is another step towards that time when I will see you again. I love, miss and hold you dear to my heart.
Friends, acquaintances and everyone else, thanks!!
Every birthday is a trivial situation and am normally left in the path of reminiscing as opposed to the partying. Each year, I look back at where I was analyzing what went wrong and what went great. I positively love all of my struggles both good and bad and at the age of 27, am proud to say I regret nothing. Never once. Everything is all about lessons and life steps.
At age 27, am a graduate, a wife, and focussed on being a mentor to younger people. Restoration of self pride is important and there in lies my goal of creating a medium for that change and evolution to occur. Will I say that I am perfect? No, perfection is a facade used to hide flaws, I am human.
27 yrs and growing. Bless the society for giving me that practice in the fight for individuality and learning to join it within the community. Blessings to the parents, Madame Present and Father Absent. To the women who instilled the pride of womanhood. The strength to uphold and endure that which I will come into contact with. Womanhood is a lesson learned, not an easy goal to attain. To the men in my family, I will be eternally thankful for the balance. The ability to identify and understand you in order to understand my mate, the good and the bad. To the ancestors, thank you for giving me one more year to continue your tasks which you started. And to my siblings, my baby bro, I love you. Each yr I grew, is another step towards that time when I will see you again. I love, miss and hold you dear to my heart.
Friends, acquaintances and everyone else, thanks!!
Saturday, December 12, 2009
The Definition of I
The I in me does not only pertain to my individuality, but also the culmination and contribution of what created, molded and enhanced me. I am not solely responsible for what I am, but I am responsible for who I am, and have obtained the highest priority of securing what I will be in the future.
Futuristic speaking, there is a propaganda about as to what defines an individual, saying that it is your actions. While there is some truth to that statement, your actions are only a representation of your experiences, and your environment. It is imperative that we focus not only on the positives, but to remember that the negatives are what reinforces that need to be shrouded in the positive light of our society.
Futuristic speaking, there is a propaganda about as to what defines an individual, saying that it is your actions. While there is some truth to that statement, your actions are only a representation of your experiences, and your environment. It is imperative that we focus not only on the positives, but to remember that the negatives are what reinforces that need to be shrouded in the positive light of our society.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Sometimes
I feel a bit lost and left out of the loop on this grand design of life. It tends to hit me ever so often. Moreso, when I am hurled into the unknown and automatically expected to pick up where left off. The greatest of the unknowns hit me on 25th Novermber 2007.
On the 24th, I had the weirdest and strongest of feelings. My head throbbed uncontrollably with waves of nausea coursing through my body. I wondered what was wrong, but could not touch it. I was puzzled. I asked my mom if everything was well, and she said yes. She told me that they were fine and I shoudl stop worrying. At precisely 10:58 that night, the most dreaded call came from a relative. She asked me if I had heard anything about a shooting. I had not, but she said it involved my brother and someone told her he had just been shot in his head. I called my mom, but no one ever answered the phone. I called my brother, but he too was not answering. It took one of my friends to call me and tell me what had happened. He said, "Your brother's been shot and is in the operating room right now." I got so weak, and numb that my best friend had to help maintain my balance.
I sat, and I waited, I prayed, I worried and as if on cue, a calm spread over me and his face appeared before mine at 1:40 a.m. I screamed out and cried harder than ever. My best friend kept asking me what was wrong but I could not muster the strength to tell her. One of my mom's friends, a nurse called me at 1:55 a.m. and said those dreaded words.
"Your brother was in critical condition. We could not remove two of the bullets....he died 15 mins ago."
I screamed even harder. I screamed and screamed while my mother screamed in the background. It was not true, I refused to believe it, but I had seen his face and known the truth. I was overcome. It hurt more so because I knew him to be a fighter, but he wanted to just let go for various reasons. They were all revealed over the course of 1 week, because I dreamed about him and spoke to him. Every night I would wake up in a hot sweat with a tear stained face. What made it even weirder for my best friend, was that she never saw me cry over any death, but I could not accept that my brother had died.
He did not die because of a robbery, he died because of jealousy and stupidity. Someone had decided that he knew too much and he was going to rat them out. What they failed to understand, was that he believed that your actions would follow you for life and that those alone would get you in trouble. Not your words, but your own actions. What they never realised was that people will forever get careless. One particular police officer was constantly interfering with my brother, and what was weird was that he failed to accept that he was wrong for hassling. His conscious will continually bug him for the rest of his life. The fact that he wrongfully accused my brother of a crime and that he felt even smaller for my brother knew he was such a weak man and was not scared to point it out. These old friends of his that expected him to take the fall for every crime they committed, but my mother had taught us better.
My mother had taught us to never take the fall for any friend. When you walk, you walk alone, for if anything goes wrong, they cannot use your name in the path of blame. Their parents obviously never taught them that for they stood next to them even when they were wrong. My baby brother had walked away from them and their retarded notions. He had removed from them, the only thing they could not completely corrupt. Their greatest challenge. And for the fact that he knew so much, they could not live with him being out there and capable of hastening their path to destruction.
It has been a long journey from that day until now. I do not cry as much as I used to, but I still get emotional and sad. It is hard. However, I see more comfort in knowing that he is out of harms way and that they are still reaping the rewards of their sins.
On the 24th, I had the weirdest and strongest of feelings. My head throbbed uncontrollably with waves of nausea coursing through my body. I wondered what was wrong, but could not touch it. I was puzzled. I asked my mom if everything was well, and she said yes. She told me that they were fine and I shoudl stop worrying. At precisely 10:58 that night, the most dreaded call came from a relative. She asked me if I had heard anything about a shooting. I had not, but she said it involved my brother and someone told her he had just been shot in his head. I called my mom, but no one ever answered the phone. I called my brother, but he too was not answering. It took one of my friends to call me and tell me what had happened. He said, "Your brother's been shot and is in the operating room right now." I got so weak, and numb that my best friend had to help maintain my balance.
I sat, and I waited, I prayed, I worried and as if on cue, a calm spread over me and his face appeared before mine at 1:40 a.m. I screamed out and cried harder than ever. My best friend kept asking me what was wrong but I could not muster the strength to tell her. One of my mom's friends, a nurse called me at 1:55 a.m. and said those dreaded words.
"Your brother was in critical condition. We could not remove two of the bullets....he died 15 mins ago."
I screamed even harder. I screamed and screamed while my mother screamed in the background. It was not true, I refused to believe it, but I had seen his face and known the truth. I was overcome. It hurt more so because I knew him to be a fighter, but he wanted to just let go for various reasons. They were all revealed over the course of 1 week, because I dreamed about him and spoke to him. Every night I would wake up in a hot sweat with a tear stained face. What made it even weirder for my best friend, was that she never saw me cry over any death, but I could not accept that my brother had died.
He did not die because of a robbery, he died because of jealousy and stupidity. Someone had decided that he knew too much and he was going to rat them out. What they failed to understand, was that he believed that your actions would follow you for life and that those alone would get you in trouble. Not your words, but your own actions. What they never realised was that people will forever get careless. One particular police officer was constantly interfering with my brother, and what was weird was that he failed to accept that he was wrong for hassling. His conscious will continually bug him for the rest of his life. The fact that he wrongfully accused my brother of a crime and that he felt even smaller for my brother knew he was such a weak man and was not scared to point it out. These old friends of his that expected him to take the fall for every crime they committed, but my mother had taught us better.
My mother had taught us to never take the fall for any friend. When you walk, you walk alone, for if anything goes wrong, they cannot use your name in the path of blame. Their parents obviously never taught them that for they stood next to them even when they were wrong. My baby brother had walked away from them and their retarded notions. He had removed from them, the only thing they could not completely corrupt. Their greatest challenge. And for the fact that he knew so much, they could not live with him being out there and capable of hastening their path to destruction.
It has been a long journey from that day until now. I do not cry as much as I used to, but I still get emotional and sad. It is hard. However, I see more comfort in knowing that he is out of harms way and that they are still reaping the rewards of their sins.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Random thought 1
I have been blessed enough with friends, acquaintances, enemies and strangers. Why? For through interaction or visual encounters I have been able to identify the 'I' in 'WE' and the role I play in this prison of society.
The 'I' is my individuality as a part of the societal bracket of the 'WE' that make up the whole through cohesive unity. Yes, there will be anomie and delinquency can be a deterrent, but it is up to the 'I' to set aside the selfish human nature and work along with 'THEY' and create a 'WE'
I have been blessed with the foundation to identify what works for me. Embedded within me are the nutrients of generations of workers and owners. Owners of their own sanity, family and community. My ancestors were not all slaves, nor were they all free. They had the spitfire rage the consumes and changes. They are akin to the Greek fires of historical importance. They roar on high and proud rallying against their foes. They do not harm, but merely shift countenances from evil to a more beneficial good. It is my true right to ensure that I am building a dynasty upon a foundation created on the backs and shoulders of my ancestors.
To feel there is no need use my heritage as a crotch or a slide by is a disgrace. Nothing is going to fall unrepentant from the heavens and I for sure will not simply gloat on luck and happenstance. Appreciation is gained more from my hard work than my piggybacking on someone's efforts while I idly worked by. I have discovered that the strength of success lies in a spiritual ground, a respect for my predecessors and an avid eye on the present and future.
The 'I' is my individuality as a part of the societal bracket of the 'WE' that make up the whole through cohesive unity. Yes, there will be anomie and delinquency can be a deterrent, but it is up to the 'I' to set aside the selfish human nature and work along with 'THEY' and create a 'WE'
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