I have this posted in my other blog. It has gotten a lot of hits. People seem to enjoy it.

I wrote it. It is true.  I’ve been asked several times if it was true.

Posted originally on March 16th, 2007 on my other blog, Bipolar Chicks Blogging.

I know what you are thinking D (D’s my partner in crime here)……..she’s not doing a poontang post!!!!!! But, my hoo-hoo hurts and I gotta complain somewhere. My only other choices were to call my mother-in-law or my pastor. I didn’t figure that would go over too well.

“dailing my pastor……ring, ring, ring”

Pastor: “Hello.”

ME: “Uh, hello, Pastor. I need prayer”.

Pastor: “OK, Lee. What’s wrong?”

ME: “Well, my poontang is hurtin’ somethin’ awful”.

Pastor: “hangs up”

“dialing phone again……ring, ring, ring”

MIL: “Hello.”

Me: “Hi. It’s me. My twat is really irrating me”.

MIL: “Oh, is that his nickname now.”

ME: “Huh? Who?”

MIL: “I thought maybe you had switched from calling my son a stupid bastard to “twat”.

ME: “hangs up”

So, ya see, I’m in a quandry. When a women’s poontang hurts, she’s gotta tell somebody.

Hey, I’ll call a friend.

“dials phone again…..ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring……” Not home.

“dials phone again…..ring, ring, ring…”

MF: “Hello”

ME: “Patty, my poontang is killing me. “

MF: “Why is your poontang killing you?”

ME: “I think it was that Victoria’s Secret Sweet Pea Body Wash. It irratated my va-jayjay”.

MF: “inaudible words due to extremely loud laughter”.

ME: “Stop laughing, dammit. This is serious”.

MF: “Hold on a minute”. “hear her yelling for her husband to come quick”. “Mike, Lee’s poontang is sore.”

“lots of loud laughing heard in background”.

ME: “hangs up phone”  Great, itchy poontang and now, I’m feeling insulted on top of that!

So, ya see, I have no one else to compalin to about my “present” hurting. (yes, I actually know someone who refers to her vagina as her “present”)

It started on Tuesday. Took a nice, long relaxing bath using VS’s Sweet Pea Body Wash. Smelled devine. The warm water and lovely smell lured me into staying the tub longer than usual. Later that day, developed a slight itch. Scratched it. Itched some more. Scratched some more.

Tuesday evening, poontange burned slightly upon peeing. Then itched some more. Scratched some more. Looked in bathroom closet for that tube of Vagisill I bought 3 years ago. Couldn’t find it. Oh well, I was sure that it would stop soon. It didn’t. I started doing that funny walk….you know the one women do if they have an irritation or a yeast infection…..the one where you try to walk kinda squigilly so you can scratch your ho-haw with the seam of your jeans. This is the only time that you deliberately look for jeans that give ya a camel toe……the other cleavage.

Suffered thru Wed cause I know that I already had a gyno appt scheduled on Thursday.

Thursday……went to gyno…..same one that I’ve been going to for 30+ years, ever since I became a woman.

After quite a long wait, I finally got called in. Told to pee in the cup. My pee was orange. And smelled like a rented porta-john after a Irish family reunion.

Finally, led to the exam room, giving the fashionable open-down-the-front paper gown and paper cover. The doc and I chatted a little about our families, lives, etc. Like I said, I’ve known her since my first visit from Aunt Flo (courtesy link for guys). So, we are comfortable with each other. We discussed all the needed stuff…..like how I need to schedule a colonoscopy, get my cholestrol checked, etc. To my delighted surprise, she said that this would be the last Pap smear that I ever need. That’s due to the fact that I had a hystorectomy in my early 30’s and have had clear pap smears since. Even with that good news, I couldn’t take my mind off the fact that my va-jayjay HURT.

OK…enough was enough. Time to take matters into my own hands! (No pun intended).

In midconversation about her sons , I scooted down and put my feet in the stirrups without being told. Shit….it itched! Finally, she takes the hint and grabs her instrument of torture. OMG!!!!! THAT HURT!!!!! Never had hurt before which makes me wonder can your poontang “grow over” if you don’t use it enough? And, I haven’t been using mine that much……believe me. That’s a story for another time. Anyway, it felt like she had stuck a mini-excavator up my “biscuit” and was scooping something out. Then, of course, there’s always that cursory “surprise finger up the butt” thing. I was sooooo glad when it was over.

So, I asked her what the problem was with the itching, burning, and knock-ya-on-your-ass odor. She said it was just an irratation from something I was allergic to or a product that was not meant to be used on the vaginal area.  What???? Or, maybe, I should say “twat”????  I started to enquire about this last thing (things used that were not meant to be used) but, I noticed that she kept looking down. After, a few minutes, I looked down and there was my right boob……poking all the way out of the paper gown. Pulled gown together and continued coversation. A couple of minutes later, she is looking down again. Boob poking out again. This time, I figured, “She’s seen plenty of boobs” so, I just let it hang there.

All done. Got dressed and went to pay my bill. I have no insurance. So, when they handed me a bill for $192.00, I bout crapped my pants (nice thought……itching and crap in pants at same time. UGH!).

So, now I’m wondering if I can sue VS’s for my $192.00 back. Plus, the Vagisil I bought at WalMart on the way home.

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