Just not about your vagina. Lady bloggers, I’m tired of hearing about it. Here’s why.
Growing up in the South, there was an unwritten rule: if it happens below the waist, we don’t talk about it in polite company. There were a bunch of other unwritten rules, like black people couldn’t live next to white people, that needed to go away. But I’d like to hang on to the below-the-waist thing.
Every single day, I’m greeted with some blog post or other about somebody’s vagina. Near as I can tell, all us ladies have one, and it’s good for two things only:
Women in my family get pregnant if you look directly at us, so I’m sure I could have had some. I didn’t, but I love seeing pictures of your babies on Facebook, many as you want. Brag on them all you like. Just don’t keep them screaming in restaurants where my dinner costs more than $20, or in religious services, weddings, funerals, or movies. Walk them outside like people used to do.
Call me a prude, but the only sex I care to hear about is mine. Don’t tell me about yours, and certainly spare me discussions of which toys your va-jay-jay likes best. Post-menopausal? Me, too. And the only thing I care to hear less about than vaginas is old vaginas.
Beyond those two things, the “lady business” is mostly just a lot of trouble. Whatever is bothering yours, most of us have had some version of that. Don’t need to hear more. Tell your gynecologist and leave me out of it.
If men blogged incessantly about their johnsons and shared their musings about their members widely on social media, we ladies would call them creeps, perverts, and maybe worse. So why is it okay for women to yap on and on about every little thing her little Jane does?
Before you comment about how I’m not a good woman or I’m insensitive to the really terrible things that can befall a vagina or maybe that I’m a lesbian or a mommy-hater, save it. Heard it all before. But if you’re also tired of hearing about other folks’ lady parts, share. You’ll be doing us all a favor.