|Ren|™ (renesq) wrote in kelleys_homies,

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--from an older woman--

My Empty Womb

A Vagina Monologue.

Everytime I become aware of it, my vagina, now that I'm nearing thirty years old, I visualize it as being a dark, empty place. Sort of like the center of the cosmos. Swirling with the ability to create life, but nothing's there. It's empty and dark and cold, and lonely. And even though there's a tunnel to the outside world, the light from there dies quickly. It makes me sad, how lonely it feels there inside my vagina. I understand why no one really goes in there anymore. It used to be almost like an airport. People would stop by; some only once, some a number of times in quick succession, some are once and future visitors. Now it's like an abandoned warehouse. Only those truly interested in it's contents take a peek.

No matter what you may think at 20 years old, there is such a thing as a biological clock. It lives just above my vagina, near my cervix. I picture it as a 50's alarm clock, except instead of 1-12 on it, it's face is big enough to accomidate numbers 17-50 on it. (Because I started menstuating late, you see.) It sits there, and sometimes if I strain hard enough I can hear it ticking there, a constant reminder like an annoying family member, "Hey, you're almost 30, right? Why ain't there been no kids yet?" (There's no teaching that clock any sort of grammar. It doesn't have the time.)

Because now, although sex is fun and nice and good, that's what my body wants to use my vagina for. It's not a playroom, or even a tunnel of love. It's the birth canal, and it's ready to go any moment now.
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