An open letter to my genitals

Dear Vagina and boobs,

I never meant to do you wrong.

I never meant to make you cry (well…)

I never meant for you to think I didn’t appreciate you.

I’m sorry.

I take it all back. You are awesome. You make life sweet. Please forgive me.

Yours sincerely,

The woman you adorn.

…..AND I’ll tell you why.

I just got home from work- …first, I get off the subway and it’s raining. I have my old bike locked to the railings in the middle of the busy road, by the lift. I try my key in the lock. It won’t move. I wiggle. Nothing. I start getting angry and jamming, ramming, unleashing all my pent up fucking energy on this cheap ass key and lock. The lock appears to have a mixture of chewing gum and rust in it. The key bends like that cheap ring my first boyfriend gave me for valentine’s day. It won’t come out or turn. I pull out my new old faithful swiss army knife. I start banging the body of the knife inexplicably against the key. Nothing happens. I start opening the attachments. Tin opener, nail file, scissors… I cut away a section of the plastic that covers the chain. Inside is not a chain, rather a whole bunch of flimsy but tightly packed little wires. I sit back and congratulate myself on having done something that looks like the sort of thing a useful man would do to start breaking the lock. I manage to twist the sorry looking key out. I remember the nail file is also a metal file. Light bulb! I start hawwing away at the mass of little wires that I resourcefully stripped away. Cars whing by me on both sides. A cyclist goes past, uncaring bastard. It looks like I’m stealing the bike. I haww back and forth on the wires, which break slowly but surely. I get to a plateau. No more wires are breaking, but most are already broken so why isn’t it working any more? I’m getting bored but refuse to give up now that I’ve come this far with my handywoman skills. I’m basking in my almost usefulness. I half expect male motorists to stop and admire how much better I am than most women. Most women suck. I start thinking about the soundtrack that best suits me. Prince is always a good one. I’m humming “you’ve got the look” to myself while still filing away at these wires, when a car pulls to a stop beside me.

A police car.

The police officer gets out (he’s kinda hot but a bit old, and he’s not wearing the “you have the right to remain silent- anything you do say will be muffled by my cock in your mouth” uniform, rather the helping old women cross the road outfit…)

I realise my key is totally deformed and deep within the bag of infinite loose tampons and chewing gum stuck to old receipts, and the lock looks like it was attacked by a sexually frustrated animal, and I’m wondering….. am I going to be in trouble?

Police officer walks over (ugh no he isn’t hot at all)

“did you lose your key?”

“Uh no… I mean, yeah… it won’t fit any more”

“I see you forced the lock”

“Em… yeah well the key wouldn’t fit… sorry”

And without asking to see the key, or suspecting any foul play, police officer opens his trunk, takes out a big mad wire cutting pliers, and cuts the chain neatly in two. I thank him. He leaves with a cheery “hope that bike was yours now!”

And hence, I appreciate having a vadge. But I’m a bit pissed for the sake of bike security, because that shit isn’t cool. I could easily have been stealing that bike. I know, he probably would have believed me if he saw the key, but why randomly trust me? I was pretty dirty looking today, it’s not that I looked too nice and gave the impression of a lady… I was all dirty from the rain and the dust, my legs were filthy and my makeup was all run off.. and I was filing away at that metal, by all appearances like a pro (just go with it)

So it’s the woman parts. And I won’t complain! Except, he could have at least been hotter.

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