Vaginas are Cool--I'm Glad I Have One

Vaginas Are Cool: I’m Glad I Have One

Not to worry, my friends, I'm not lowering its standards or discretion (sentence to follow completely contradicts this statement).  I had my annual trip to the gynecologist this week, and I got to see my favorite nurse practitioner.  Everything was fine–I love her–but at the end of the visit, she gave me a bunch of samples of some kind of cream that women find beneficial “as they get older.”  Okay, I have a 5-year-old.  I’m young!  I’m hip!  Fine, yes, I have teenagers as well, but I did NOT LIKE the way my favorite nurse practitioner kept making this inclusive hand gesture when she said things like, “after age 35,” and “for women who are getting older…”   I mean, I’m sorry, the woman has a PERM for God’s sake, and has to be at least 10 years older than I am.

Now, on the other hand, as I was lying there, naked except for brown socks I had grabbed out of Martin’s drawer that morning (SOOO SEXY), I did have to accept that I AM middle-aged.  As Katherine Hepburn said to Henry Fonda in “On Golden Pond,” “You’re old, not middle-aged, you old coot!  People don’t live to be 150!”

But here’s the thing that makes vaginas cool, no matter what the age, and I mean NO MATTER what the age:  vaginas have women attached to them.  (Granted, I have not done my transgendered statistical research on this, but I’m going to assume that it’s safe to say that 95% of vaginas have women attached to them, and to the 5% who want to be women, WELCOME ABOARD ladies!).

Here are the things that people with vaginas have helped me to do (things that people without vaginas would have had NO chance of helping me to do):

  • Understand how to be a mom.
  • Forgive myself when being a mom brought me to my knees.
  • Help me get back up and keep going.
  • Believe in my heart that working and being a mom was okay.
  • Know that dealing with postpartum depression was not only necessary but powerful and something to be proud of, as a mom and a woman.
  • Understand that wearing red shoes is never a mistake.
  • Accepting that mourning the end of things like the last baby you’ll have, finishing breast-feeding, sending the last kid to kindergarten is TOTALLY normal, even when everyone around you is dancing with glee.
  • Know, from the bottom of my heart, that women who don’t have kids are NEVER less than women who do.
  • Know that true female friends can save your life, in so many more ways than I can list here.  As my Mom is fond of saying, “Women need other women in their stories.”   Yes, yes, and a thousand times YES.
  • Realize the truth in what my friend Ann says, there is no use putting out your umbrella until is actually raining.

Here’s today’s invitation:  please, please, PLEASE write in and tell me what you’ve learned from the important women in your lives.  I would be SO grateful, and you would be doing all our readers a wonderful service!

I love you all!  Rock on ladies!!!!   A poem from the rocking-est all of all the rocking-est ladies!  Be inspired, my loves!  Be brave!   Write to all of us, because everything you share makes all of us better!


Phenomenal Woman
Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman

Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
 don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.




Leslie Srajek blogs at From the Heart and has a therapeutic writing practice called Heartland Writing in Urbana, IL.