Men and women have a much different outlook when it comes to this sensitive procedure. If you mention it to a man, they ALL say something like this: "Oh, man!! That sucks!! Dude, make sure you buy lots of frozen peas. I had it done a few years ago. Ugh! I'm glad I don't have to go through that again!"
If you ask a woman, a woman who has had children, they ALL say something like this: "Oh, that's AWESOME!! Congratulations! What a relief you must feel!"
The disparity must lay in the relationship each gender has with his or her gonads. Men hold (excuse the pun) their man jewels with a reverence we women usually reserve for our first born children, or an awesome pair of shoes.
Women, on the other hand, usually don't give much thought to their gonads, unless there is a medical problem with them. Maybe because men's are all out there in the wide open spaces whereas women's are nicely contained within.
Maybe it's because we can't get kicked in ours.
Whatever.
I've been having a geeky good time comparing the types of reactions I get from each side of the gender card. Men all get squeamish and apologetic, while women all get congratulatory and victorious.
Victorious? Why are we HAPPY about our men folk getting their private man junk cut on? Do we secretly want to inflict pain on our men? Derive macabre satisfaction from their suffering?
No. I don't think it's any of that. I think it's a little matter of comeuppance. A tiny, teeny feeling of IT'S YOUR TURN, BUDDY!!
The burden of reproduction falls very heavily on the shoulders of women. Duh, right? But think about it, we spend years on hormones trying to avoid getting pregnant, including all of the nausea, weird body changes, and symptoms those synthetic hormones can cause in our bodies. (Not to mention the myriad of crappy symptoms I had with the Mirena IUD whose removal prompted the necessity of Jerry's procedure.)
Then, during pregnancy, our bodies turn from smoking hot to morphed blogs of unrecognizable mush. For example, before pregnancy, who out there had a gorgeous chest and then after pregnancy and nursing, you look down and scream, "WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE THOSE THINGS?" wondering when you started looking so much like the tribal women seen on PBS?
Of course, let's not forget about labor and delivery. Labor, at least natural non-drugged labor, is an experience not easily forgotten. When I labored with Josh, I went for almost 8 hours stuck in transition, with almost constant contractions. By the end, right before the doctor told me my cervix was swelling closed from the pain, I was literally begging for death. Pain like that should not be possible.
Only because of the numbing goodness of oxytocin would a woman ever choose to purposefully go through that AGAIN.
Can you see? Can you see why I, and ALL the women I've talked to, get kind of IN YOUR FACE, SUCKER!! when discussing the big "V"? It truly is the man's turn. His turn to share in the burden of reproduction. His turn to suffer for our family.
I'm tired of it being ALL ON ME.
So thanks, Honey. Thanks for going through this procedure for me, for us, so I can get off the hormones and get my body back fully under my own control. Thanks for stepping up and laying it all out there for our family. (So to speak.)
And by the way, it's not like I got away completely off of the hook. I did have to buy five bags of frozen peas at the grocery store.
THAT is embarrassing!
