I really wasn't sure how to start this website/blog and then I realised that I should probably explain how it came to be. I know, total genius thinking there, Nicholson.
Recently, I was published for the first time. Well, unless you count the time I wrote copy for fashion catalogues. I challenge you to find a positive thing to say about stirrup pants. So as I was saying, words that spilled out of my brain ended up printed on actual paper pages that people paid to read. The jaunty little publication I'm in is called The Stick and it's the brainchild of Samuel Johnson, known for many things but most importantly for Love Your Sister.
Around the middle of 2016 I found myself in ED having my vagina examined by so many people. So. Many. People. And doctors too. Turns out my uterus was chock full of something that needed to come out of me asap. I was given endone for the pain and sent for an internal ultrasound. Every woman who has had one, just winced and her vagina has tightened in horror, recalling the experience.
Like any person high on prescription medication and an inability to self-edit, I wrote a post about it on Facebook. You know, to make my parents proud. Then I received a message from a long time online friend, Kate, who said she was working on something and would I consider letting her submit my piece for it. Endone stepped up to the plate and told her the piece was hers for the taking. Kate explained that she'd be taking it to an editorial meeting, which also happened to be on the same day as my surgery.
When I arrived home from the hospital, drugged up AF, I figured it was the perfect time to contact Kate and ask her how my piece was received. Honestly, I just wanted to know if it got laughs or eye rolls. I sat in bed, high as a kite, responding to messages online when my phone rang. It was Kate. She was in the meeting. I'd never spoken to her before and in my soaring-kite-like mentality, I basically spoke gibberish. She handed the phone to Sam, who gave my piece such glowing praise that I had to ask him if this was actually real or was I dreaming...because seriously, I thought I was hallucinating, I was so out of it. I believe I said, "Do your realise how fucked up I am right now?". Sam just laughed and assured me that I was not dreaming, then handed the phone to his book publisher. Fast forward to a few months later and my piece was published in The Stick, in all its graphic, profanity-riddled glory, titled Vajazzle Me.
That call from Kate and Sam sparked something in me and I’ve been writing pieces for the past few months, some of it terrible, some of it pretty good, hardly any of it about my vagina but all of it felt bloody wonderful to churn out. So a big shout out to my defective uterus who helped revive my creative side and has guaranteed me a lifetime of retelling the story of how my vagina broke.
*Gentlemen, it’s totally fine now. Totally.