This isn’t the goodbye I planned. In fact, I didn’t imagine penning a long-winded albeit meaningful farewell to you in any foreseeable future of mine. Of course, like any other worthwhile instance in my life, my pre-determined schemes turned out to be laughable at best. So here we are.
We’ve had some marvelous times, you and I. You took a few beatings in the name of satisfaction, never complaining aside from the standard ache felt the following day. Sure, you’ve lead me down a fair share of ill-advised, whiskey-soaked roads, which left me in a pleasure-pit of regrettable one-night stands more times than I care to admit. However, I now have said moments to look back on fondly, consciously forgetting the forgettable, of course.
You were more than understanding when I eagerly attempted to learn what you liked and what you didn’t like. Our first sexual encounter was awkward, yet you were patient as I climbed on top of the overweight boy with little to no clue as to what the necessary next steps entailed. You were also understanding when it was over, three minutes later, and the anti-climactic ending to our proverbial first time came and went. Well, I guess no one really came…
You didn’t shut down after our first waxing experience. I put you through a delicately embarrassing ordeal that left you half bald, half sufficiently native. Thank the vulva-loving heavens for Bic, right old friend? Yes, regrettably, some of our shave-happy showers have left you looking like one of the hacked-up bushes in the end of Edward Scissorhands but we learned, grew, and then cut together. That’s all that matters.
You’ve graciously handled annoying exam after annoying exam, in which unruly metal speculums forged from the horns of Lucifer himself occupied what should be flesh-filled space. Goo-covered probes and intrusive latex-smelling fingers ruined plenty of your weekday afternoons and yet you always seemed to be understanding that safe, although disagreeable, is better than sorry.
Thanks to the wonder that is pornography I must admit, I don’t believe you to be the prettiest of the bunch. Regardless, there’s no denying you were more than capable of attracting the not-so-repulsive. Men have been known to enjoy you and women have been known to want you, so please take pride in your past accomplishments. What is unfortunately about to happen does not diminish them in any way.
You see, my wonderful Whispering Eye, it’s become difficult to see you now. My belly has grown rather round and protrudes in a way that would be physically impossible if it weren’t for the elasticity of skin. You’re all-too-quickly becoming an outbound portal to human existence, where life begins and tightened gratification ends. I’m sure a stretched muscle or two is an understandable sacrifice to lay at the alter of procreation, but it all just seems so sudden, doesn’t it?
I assure you, we will meet again. Yes, perhaps our socially-considered glory days are behind us. Then again, many a feminist would say they are just beginning.
A Soon-To-Be Mom
P.S. I promise I will get you stitched up if necessary and undertake a very kegel-heavy exercise routine the moment I am physically able.