In Lady Biz's last post, she used the above phrase, I'm sure, to mean "a place over which everyone BUT the girl has control." Except I go to what feels like an archetypal version of the vagina, which is a place of terror-- the blackest of black holes. With teeth, even.
I can't remember too many times when The Oval Office has felt as if it was in control (CUNTrol?) of me and yet, being a gal who likes to play with the boys, I want to say I do remember. In fact, I want to say it's a constant state of need. As in, "my penis tells me what to do," except, "my vadge gives me all my instructions." I'd be a liar. The V-J-J gives me a few pointers, but generally it's pretty chill.
Am I undersexed? Over-prudified? Should The Office be more vicious? More aggressive? Should anything, especially my netherworld, be anything that starts with "should be..." ???
And then, speaking of fear and black holes, I think of the many times I have encountered women who are certain that they've lost things in their vagina. Like, say, contraceptive devices, tampons, apple pies, etc. Panocha probably knows more about this fear (via the women she's known/worked with) than I do, but I've had to break out the old standby reproductive system diagram:
And then I note that, "See the cervix? Stuff doesn't go in it. Damn sure, stuff can come out, but the in? Not happening. At least not by accident." As for the out-of-control flesh-eating gaping hole? Our friend, the Parts Poster shows us a mild mannered little vagina-as-satchel. Maybe a coin purse, on its mild days.
I don't know, ladies. Is there an in-between the clinical and the horrifying for our vadge system? Eh, that question's too academic this morning. Back to Biz's post: at the very least, I can have this conversation with myself, knowing full well that right this minute, I can operate The Oval Office at my discretion. Damn the day that I legally can't.
xxx
The Oval Office
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