Even the word itself seems like an obscenity. I hate the sound of it so much I'm going to refer to it as an OCTOPUS from this point on so I can stop hearing the word "vagina" echoing in my brain, infecting all my other thoughts with germs and STDs. So every time you read "OCTOPUS" think "slimy monstrosity of female anatomy."
But Manda Banana! All girls have one; it's just a natural part of life!
False. First of all, nobody actually calls me Manda Banana. That's just a nickname I created to make myself seem cute to online strangers. Second, the reason you provide is actually the exact reason why there's no point in talking about your OCTOPUS. Every girl has one, end of story, no need for story to exist, let's talk about other things.
Except everyone else loves talking about their OCTOPI. Every time I see a Cosmo magazine screaming "Eleven fun things to tell your OCTOPUS in the morning!" while I'm innocently waiting in line at the store trying to act superior and like a person who does not read Cosmo, I'm like, why? Is this part of female empowerment, loving your OCTOPUS so much that you have to sing to it in the shower?
Because if so, tie an apron around my waist and I'll stay in the kitchen where I belong. Except for the time I'll spend making babies.
People always tell me, oh, childbirth is such a beautiful miracle! And I smile and nod, wondering if they'd find it a beautiful miracle that I could shove a bowling ball up their OCTOPUS. I mean, I'm sure it is wonderful that you can create a baby, carry her inside your body, and push her out your OCTOPUS nine months later. That's awesome. But please forgive me if I decline to watch the video your husband took of your delivery, because squeezing a head out through your OCTOPUS looks like a child with a rubberband around his face.
|Told you so?|
My view of anatomy may be a bit troubled. Uterus, fallopian tubes, vulva, clitoris, cervix... what is all that? I'd rather not know, so collectively, they're an OCTOPUS.
But you should love and embrace every part of yourself!
Well, I don't. Some parts are icky. I don't care who you are, I know for a fact that you do not have an attractive OCTOPUS. Whether you're a 12-year-old virgin, a teen idol recently discarded from her spotlight, or the 19 Kids & Counting lady, an OCTOPUS is an OCTOPUS and it's not something to love or embrace. The only "sexy" thing about it is its function as a sexual organ.
Maybe my opinion on this makes me an 87-year-old granny, but I just don't appreciate the openness girls have with discussing their OCTOPUS issues. Do they not have gynecologists they can talk to? Or mothers? Or a deaf-mute landlord? Surely they know someone better suited to help with their problems and listen to their list of feminine product preferences than some girl they've only met twice and thought her name was Amber. So please don't come to my work and ask me to recommend something for your itchy OCTOPUS while you have your hand down your pants and your fourteen sweaty children are destroying my brand new sunglasses display.
While you're telling me that Summer's Eve douches give you a yeast infection and Tampax's super plus isn't quite big enough and sometimes maxi pads smell funky, I'm mentally playing Rock Band guitar on expert to "Octopus' Garden" by the Beatles.