My only regret is that now that I know how it’s put together, it looks less random to me. I loved it best when I could see it as a wild clump of circles.
But, whew, I love this so much.
Tomorrow I have to go in for a transvaginal ultrasound to try to figure out why I’m bleeding. I admire my reproductive system for being just a rusty pile of shit the whole way. It takes commitment to suck from my first period to my last.
I had been feeling like I was dealing very well with this, but I’ve been sucked into a tiny bit of despair about how I’m going to die alone, unloved, with cobwebs in my useless vagina.
I’m glad for all the therapy and the drugs that lets me realize that’s a fucked up headspace. Also, frankly I’d rather have two weeks of cobwebs a month than two weeks of bleeding. Both are very goth, but the webs wouldn’t make me anemic. Plus, if my body is going to be a horror show, I would rather have the haunted house vibes of a cobwebbed vagina than the slasher aesthetic of all this blood.
Plus, if we’re being honest, I feel like “I will leave you unsettled and unsure if what has just happened to you really happened” is a more honest assessment of sex with me than “I will leave you screaming and fearing for your life.”
Cobwebs in my vagina. Truth in advertising.