You Want Me To Put That WHERE?

Danger…this post is about Lady Bits…

So, when I talked about my last Radiation Oncologist appointment, I noted he was going to give me a new set of dialators.  I currently use a small-sized dialator…I’d say about an inch in circumference.  When I first got it, I thought they had to have their heads examined when they decided sizing for these things.  Naturally, because things are what they are down there, well…let’s just say I still have issues with the small.  The radiation and chemo have made my vajayjay less pliable…and short.  Where I thought I had a ring of scar tissue, in actuality, it is just the atrophy of my vagina.

Yeah, that can happen.

So, last week, I picked up my “new” set of dialators, which I was supposed to use in conjunction with the new hormone cream that they have prescribed.  The cream is supposed to soften things up down there, and I NEED to stretch the vajayjay so that gyno exams are not excruciating.  Because they are.  Best part of picking up the dialators?  They give them to you in a clear plastic bag labeled biological waste.  No lie.  Thankfully they fit in my purse, so I didn’t have to walk through the hospital with them (yes, they are labeled VAGINAL DIALATOR on the box).

Last night (after my horrendous scare yesterday with the bleeding – and yes, I am less freaked out now that it hasn’t come back) I checked out the new dialators.  They gave me a medium – roughly sized the same as my husband.  In girth, not length.  Because if it were the same as my husband in length, it would be a little too much like the closing scene of Boogie Nights up in my house.  I thought, well, I could handle that, maybe, in a while, once things stretch out a bit more.

Then I opened the large.

OMFG people.

WHY?  No really, WHY?????

This thing even made my husband cringe.  I mean, it has to be 3 inches in circumference.

Vaginal Dilators, 6" (15.2cm) long

This picture does not do it justice.



I have no idea WHY in the hell anyone would need to be stretched out that far unless they give birth…which I won’t be.  Ever.  I mean, the damned thing resembles a baseball bat.  NO LIE.

Ladies and Gents, if I can stretch myself out to that size, I’d be afraid you could hear the wind whistling through my legs.

You know, over the past year I have learned a lot about how very undignified gynecological cancers make you feel.  From the surgery (yes, I seriously had to take TWO pregnancy tests in one day), to the chemo, to the radiation and brachytherapy, I think the entire population of Baltimore has seen my lady bits.  I no longer feel any modesty about them.  In fact, I keep expecting a billboard of my bits along I-95 South at any time.  Then to top that off, you have to answer questions about how often you and your husband have sexy time, how it feels, and then you must have a gyno check at every freaking appointment.  I’ve had more people with their hands in my vajayjay than most porn stars.  Then, to have to suffer the indignity of using vaginal dialators…well, sometimes it just feels like too much.

Kind of like that gigantic dialator.

3 thoughts on “You Want Me To Put That WHERE?

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