Today I had totally planned on posting the giant image of the female reproductive system that they made us look at Jesus class on Saturday while all of our friends were dressed in green and riding a bus to all the Irish bars in the area to drink beer but then once I actually got a good close up look at it on Google images I decided I have enough people coming to Yellaphant every day just waiting for me to one day get drunk and post pictures of my va jay jay and I don't want anyone to mistake that computer illustrated naked woman with the bad hair and small boobs for me. Sorry, Falko.
And even though I promised myself I would really try to talk about my lady parts less often on the Internet, I think it's really important to address what went down last weekend while B and I sat in my grade school gymnasium for seven hours. And admittedly, the majority of that time was spent talking about things like communication and budget issues and painting your mother's kitchen to find God, but I'm pretty sure that only part that has burned itself into people's minds forever was when that one lady got up in front of the room and started talking about her monthly visit from Aunt Flo while her husband sat in the back of the room with his arms crossed smiling admiringly at his wife WHO BY THE WAY, WAS IN FRONT OF A ROOM OF 50 20-SOMETHINGS TALKING ABOUT HER VAGINA. And I thought I had problems. And clearly, since this subject presented itself to me at pre-cana class, it was a gift from God, so really, I'd only be further damning myself if I didn't spread the Good Word. See what I just did there? I'm probably totally going to hell for equating hooha talk to the Bible.
The accompanying image projected on a huge screen in the front of the gym was the exact same one we all studied in seventh grade health with the naked lady and the enlarged image of her reproductive system next to her. Only in my grade school, that class was also accompanied by a trip to the local high school to attend Chastity Day where we sat in the auditorium and listened to awful stories of regretted abortions and born again virgins and were then sent home clutching our I'm Worth Waiting For stickers in our pale, sweaty, shaking hands.
Ya'll remember what a vagina looks like right? I'm pretty sure everyone in the gym last weekend did too. Except maybe that lady's husband. BOOM. And while she was talking I kept looking around the room to watch as just about every guy's eyes rolled into the back of their heads and little sounds of compressed air came hissing out of their ears. And I'm pretty sure the dude next to me threw up in his mouth a little bit when this lady referred to her boobs as Thelma and Louise.
ANYWAY. I was going to post the picture so you could see what we had to see last Saturday. But I could see why that would totally offend some people on a Thursday morning. So I'll refrain. It's called discretion people, and I have it. You're welcome.