MOTHER MAY I
Throughout my life, the times that I've had a relationship with my mother, they've been abnormal at best. We've never had what one would call a mother-child relationship, it's more been a dysfunctional friendship. The weirdness of the entire situation was really brought to my attention last night when I was having a chat about holiday plans with my mate the other night. She asked me about my plans and why I don't do anything or even try to do anything. I told her that it's pointless; I'm not welcome at family things my siblings are going to, my grandad has his holiday thing he's going to and my mum has her friend-pet that she's doing something with, so it's just going to be Pork Chop and me. She asked why I wouldn't do something with my mother or why she wouldn't leave her friend to spend time with me and I didn't have an answer for it. I saw myself as second best in her eyes and it's not really a surprise to me. I told her that we never really had a parent-child relationship and I remembered an instance that I find hilarious that I'd like to share with you guys.
When I was little, my mum couldn't always find a babysitter for me, so I often found myself going along with her to places children really shouldn't be.
I was about 8 years old and I found myself at her vagina doctor-I mean, her gynaecologist. I always refer to them as vagina doctors because that's what they are. They are doctors that specialise in vagina. That kind sounds like something else, but it's not. I know that some of them also deal with babies, fertility and all that other, quite frankly revolting, stuff. Some people are under the impression that all children are a gift, a blessing and that creating life is beautiful. I'm not one of them. Now that we've got that out of the way, we can get on with the story. I remember sitting in the examination room, eating a lime flavoured lolly while this bloke I didn't know, dressed in a white coat was peering into my mother's spooge hole. I was a bit perplexed by the entire thing. She'd told me that the crotchal region was private and only to be shared with someone special. Well, if he was so fuckin' special why had I only seen him one time before? Someone was lying and I wasn't sure who. I'd sit there on the chair, licking my feet, licking my lolli in rhythm while nurses smiled at me.
"Are you going to be a doctor too when you grow up?" "I'm going to be a vagina doctor to the stars." I remember the large curly haired woman's smile fading. "Excuse me?" "But the stars up in space haven't got pussies, have they? I dunno. I like space but like I like the idea of being a doctor too. Being a doctor in space is about the coolest thing I can think of!"
"You've got quite the smart mouth on you." "I sure do. Unlike yours, it knows when to close." I ended up getting a smacked bottom by both the nurse and my mum. I don't know why she'd keep bringing me after this incident. She took me at least half a dozen times after this, seeing as he delivered all of my siblings in addition to doing her routine oil check.
I'm still haunted, all these years later, by the hideous decor that adorned the office. Sickly pink and pale evergreen walls with some kind of white jizz stain pattern and then to top it all off, photos of newborn babies dressed as ducks and crawling out of eggs. Why the fuck would anyone think that needed to be photographed? What was the reasoning behind these creations? Yeah, you read that right. CREATIONS. More than one of the abominations were made. There were at least 4 of them hanging around the waiting area. Now, I'm not an interior decorator by a longshot, that was just beyond the pale. Sometimes I close my eyes and I still see those babies and instead of crying when they open their gobs, they quack. Those photos are honestly the things that nightmares are made of. I'm surprised they never made an appearance in a Rob Zombie or a Wes Craven film. Craven may be out of the game, but Zombie is still kicking. And if I see any of these sort of things in his next film, I'll go apeshit.
I was about 8 years old and I found myself at her vagina doctor-I mean, her gynaecologist. I always refer to them as vagina doctors because that's what they are. They are doctors that specialise in vagina. That kind sounds like something else, but it's not. I know that some of them also deal with babies, fertility and all that other, quite frankly revolting, stuff. Some people are under the impression that all children are a gift, a blessing and that creating life is beautiful. I'm not one of them. Now that we've got that out of the way, we can get on with the story. I remember sitting in the examination room, eating a lime flavoured lolly while this bloke I didn't know, dressed in a white coat was peering into my mother's spooge hole. I was a bit perplexed by the entire thing. She'd told me that the crotchal region was private and only to be shared with someone special. Well, if he was so fuckin' special why had I only seen him one time before? Someone was lying and I wasn't sure who. I'd sit there on the chair, licking my feet, licking my lolli in rhythm while nurses smiled at me.
"Are you going to be a doctor too when you grow up?" "I'm going to be a vagina doctor to the stars." I remember the large curly haired woman's smile fading. "Excuse me?" "But the stars up in space haven't got pussies, have they? I dunno. I like space but like I like the idea of being a doctor too. Being a doctor in space is about the coolest thing I can think of!"
"You've got quite the smart mouth on you." "I sure do. Unlike yours, it knows when to close." I ended up getting a smacked bottom by both the nurse and my mum. I don't know why she'd keep bringing me after this incident. She took me at least half a dozen times after this, seeing as he delivered all of my siblings in addition to doing her routine oil check.
I'm still haunted, all these years later, by the hideous decor that adorned the office. Sickly pink and pale evergreen walls with some kind of white jizz stain pattern and then to top it all off, photos of newborn babies dressed as ducks and crawling out of eggs. Why the fuck would anyone think that needed to be photographed? What was the reasoning behind these creations? Yeah, you read that right. CREATIONS. More than one of the abominations were made. There were at least 4 of them hanging around the waiting area. Now, I'm not an interior decorator by a longshot, that was just beyond the pale. Sometimes I close my eyes and I still see those babies and instead of crying when they open their gobs, they quack. Those photos are honestly the things that nightmares are made of. I'm surprised they never made an appearance in a Rob Zombie or a Wes Craven film. Craven may be out of the game, but Zombie is still kicking. And if I see any of these sort of things in his next film, I'll go apeshit.
There are other instances that I could share with you guys; thankfully, the next instance isn't as horrific as watching a strange man peer into my mother's vagina but I'm sure its one of the reasons why I'm in therapy today.
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