Last night I was out with a bunch of my girlfriends. Those of us with kids and those of us without. You know the ones. The ones where your childless friends are a bit horrified listening to the stories being told by those of us with children. At one point during the night, one of my childless friends said, “You know…the more I hear stories from my friends about their kids the more I am starting to think maybe I don’t want to have kids. I always thought I did, but…I don’t know…”
Well, my dear friend, you might not want to read these next few paragraphs. It’s a small section taken from my book. The chapter in the book where I talk about sex. And not in a 50 Shades of Grey style. Oh no. It’s probably the least sexiest piece of literature you will ever read. Here is a sneak peek:
Because I had torn and my son was huge coming out, I figured I had to be so stretched out that being inside me would feel like swimming in a pool. Would there even be any friction at all? Of course I asked Yancy about it knowing he wouldn’t tell me the truth. I’m not sure why I bother asking questions that I know he wouldn’t dare tell me the truth. It was akin to asking, “Do I look fat?” He was smart enough to know not to say, “yeah, it feels like I’m having sex with a puddle” and instead assured me it felt wonderful. Just like before.
But let’s face it, your vagina is never going to go back to normal. Does a rubber band go back to its original size after it’s been stretched out? We all know the answer to that one. You can do all of the Kegels in the world, but unless you undergo one of those expensive vaginal rejuvenation surgeries, you’ll be mourning your old vagina as well as your old identity.
Wanna read more? Well, you can! My book is available on paperback! So excited. And I could use all the support I could get. Really, I could. Here’s where to go or you can click on the cover on the side.