I don't make a habit of listening to you usually (because you associate yourself with the Conservative Party, which in turn associates itself with arseholeness - and arseholeness generally angers me, and anger sorta interferes with the whole incense-stick-burning/ peaceful meditation thing I have going on at the moment), but just lately some of your comments and opinions about other women's uteri have been trickling through onto my Twitter feed. I can't help but feel that you are alluding to my uterus, Nadine, what with me having one and everything. And so I thought to myself: Hey! Maybe Nadine would care for a formal introduction!
This is my uterus:
Cute, isn't it?
When my gynaecologist told me that I have "a heart-shaped uterus", my initial reaction was, "Aww, that's sweet." But apparently, having a "heart-shaped" (or "bicornuate") uterus isn't all that sweet, as Mr Gynaecologist eventually explained to me, after I spent a solid two minutes sitting on (well, squatting over) the hospital toilet emptying my raging bladder. "No, no," he said to me. "You iz fucked." Well, those weren't his exact words, but his expression was pretty grave as he told me that my chances of carrying any future bambinos to full-term were very slim and likely to be littered with complications, and my risk of miscarriage significantly higher than most women's.
I wasn't too fussed at the time. Y'see Nadine, I was 15, my biggest worry was if I would survive my GCSEs and whether my new set of hair straighteners were any good, and the only reason I was there having my uterus scanned in the first place was to ascertain why it always hurt so sodding much, and why it insisted on bleeding profusely for four months straight without any kind of interval, eventually resulting in a kitchen floor covered in blood, me almost passing out from the pain and my mama having to call for an ambulance. My uterus hasn't given me an easy time of it over the years, and I don't expect it to let up any time soon! As I near the grand old age of 24, with my uterus persisting in being a pain in the arse (sometimes literally - do you ever get period cramps in your backside, Nadine? Hurts like a bitch!), and with kindly doctors urging me to consider "starting a family" earlier than I may have otherwise planned (y'know, in case the first few handfuls of pregnancies don't work out so well), the reality of my possible predicament becomes ever-increasingly frightening. I don't know if I want children, truth be told. Yes, I want them, but I don't know if I want to endure a whole bunch of miscarriages in the later stages of pregnancy before I might, just might, finally get one. I've never coped so well with disappointment. I mean yeah, sure I'll think about it and see if I can get my vagina on any decent sperm before I make my decision, but at this moment in time, I'm pretty protective of what goes in my uterus. It's bad enough not having any say in the presence of big juicy clots.
And so, Nadine, I ask you kindly to please reconsider your views on my uterus. Y'know the uterus you just met, like two minutes ago, and will probably forget all about in about half as much time? My uterus and I would be very grateful.
Laterz!
Martha
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