Dear Readers -
Now you've done it. You've made me go off on a tangent and write about something completely ridiculous and inane and not anything I'm supposed to be writing about...
And having to do with vaginas. I'm writing about vaginas.
Completely your fault, commenters.
In my last post, the message boards were hot with questions about the mysterious spray now known as "The Hoo-Ha Spray". Apparently, single people, the married folks without kids, some men, people outside the continental U.S. and C-Sectioniers missed the whole Hoo-Ha boat.
So, allow me to get you up to speed. This is The Hoo-Ha Spray.
They give you a couple cans of this stuff when you leave the hospital after having a vaginal delivery. It's like a parting gift or something, along with a good talking to about how you shouldn't starve your child or drown her in the bath tub or sleep for like the next three months. In fact, they tell you to constantly wring your hands with worry over things like meningitis, SIDS, improperly installed car seats and those long cords that help you move the blinds up and down that could wrap around your child's neck like an anaconda and snuff the life out of her.
Seriously, between the intense pain in your crotch and the debilitating worry, it's a wonder you don't just douse yourself with kerosene, set yourself on fire and get the pain over with immediately. But you don't because some opinionated jack ass in the form of a relative or know-it-all friend who already has kids, will tell you that no matter how hard it is now, it will only get worse when they are teenagers and smarter, faster and able to totally pull the wool over your eyes.
So, you come to terms with the fact that stationery and helpless is a blessing and now is as good as it gets.
Not that it matters because you are still delirious from the 47 hours of labor and the three straight hours of pushing out of your vagina the largest bowel movement of your entire colon-cracking life and you are convinced that the hospital nurses are high on crack because they let amateurs like you and your husband leave the hospital with a fragile newborn, because even though you don't let it show, you guys have absolutely no friggin' idea what you're doing and this kid is surely in danger of being dropped, stepped on, left in the car seat on the car roof or licked by the family dog.
Butt no matter what's happening, that little bottle of Hoo-Ha spray is your constant companion after you give birth. It isn't as good as booze, let's say or valium or...booze, but it's close. You see, during the birth process, your genitals can swell into a raw, bulbous inhuman malformation that looks like this:
The spray is to alleviate the intense pain you are feeling as you hobble home in your loose fitting sweat pants with your low-hanging bulbous nether regions feeling all steamy, pink, swollen, inhuman and humungous. You also get to sit on this inflatable donut (when you get to sit down) because the thought of your Babboon genitals actually touching a chair or supporting the 90 extra pounds you've gained in the pregnancy is nearly unbearable and so you have to carry around a bag big enough to hold your cans of Hoo-ha, your inflatable donut, your bottle of Colt 45 and a super-sized box of maxi pads because there's sooooo much happening down under that there will not be enough Maxi in all of Duane Reade to satisfy your needs.
Forget diapers and wipes, that designer diaper bag the in-laws bought you is crammed with stuff to make your vagina feel better.
I bet you wished you hadn't asked...
That's enough about the vagina.
P.S. Special thanks to the ever-creative Evil Chef Mom, who coined the term "Hoo-Ha Spray" and is probably a life-long abuser of all tingly vagina sprays, devices and accoutrement. I don't know this for sure, but she's definately the type.