If you have not been to her site, please go. I promise you, it is really funny shit. While there I read her wickedly funny post that she did for her Vagina Montaloges. I am a bandwagon kinda girl so I wrote my very own Vagina Montalouge. Without further ado…A letter from My Gina (long i)
We have know each other since pretty much the beginning of time, and have been together through thick and thin and long and short (remeber the dude that was thin and short? such a disappointment). I was there the first time we went to the crotch doc. I must say, I took the brunt of that visit. You allowed that asshole to shove metal salad spoons into me and crank me open. This was mentally scaring for me, but I forgave you. I was also the one that was injured during your first sexual encounter. Literally being ripped open. So not cool, but I forgave you.
I am the one that gets cotton wads on a string shoved inside of me every month…but do I complain? No. It is all about your comfort, I understand. I am the one that stood inside you during your “Girl Gone Wild” phase after your divorce. I must say you did lower your standards of what
I have to thank you though for not making me squeeze your keg headed kids out. (HAVE YOU SEEN THE SIZE OF THOSE KIDS HEADS?) I guess I should really be thanking your first keg headed spawn. He is the one that got the ball rolling by refusing to drop down into your pelvis, thus making the c-section zipper possible. I knew when you ran your mouth about having a VBAC you were just spewing shit. You are way too much of a control freak to actually wait to go into labor. You are also impatient so there is no way that you would wait out the labor process. As soon as that doctor said he was going to schedule the c-section with the 2nd keg head you climbed up on his desk and said “Take this baby now Big Daddy”. Ha! You thought I forgot didn’t you?! Well I have not. I have much dirt on you bitch.
That brings me to this letter. It has been brought to my attention that you were reading online the other day about kegals. We have discussed this before. You are not going to squeeze me in and out and make me exercise until you get off your fat ass and lose 100 pounds. That is it! I put my clit down! It is not fair that you get to eat whatever and never exercise, but then expect me to exercise. Guess what fat ass, I am not the issue! The issue is you won’t stop eating junk food and you won’t get of your ass. What is making me exercise going to prove? Are you going to pull down your pants and say “I might be a fat ass but I got a rocking twat”! Get a clue, that is not very impressive. Are you entering some kinda pussy Olympics?
You must stop this madness immediately. Take this as your final warning. If you insist on this I reserve the right to do the following:
Queff the National Anthem.
Make next months tampon insertion very uncomfortable.
Take on a very nasty odor.
Itch, itch baby.
Make sex very unenjoyable for you and the dear Hubs.
You do understand that I am a muscle? Have you every heard the words "Charlie Horse". (Stand up and hop outta of that one! Hooker!)
I do not want to do these things. You have keegled me to this point. Cease and desist immediately. Please do not let this ruin our relationship. I love you to death.
Gina (with a long I)