The More You Know

So there I am this morning, sitting in the harsh florescent light of the hospital white doctors office, with a paper not-really-functional garment wrapped around my mostly nekkid body waiting for the dr to show up.

I won’t go into too many details, suffice to say, this appointment was what I like to call the Lube, Oil and Filter change variety. The kind only girls have to attend. Is that descriptive enough?

So as I sat there a’waiting the inevitable prodding from a stranger, I tried to remain calm. A few deep breaths were at hand. Maybe some humming.

Then as I relaxed, my eyes began to wander to the décor of the room. I mean, there’s nothing else to do, right?

There on one wall was a BMI chart and a flyer about flu shots. Over there, a startlingly graphic chart of the female reproductive system. That’s always worth a few minutes of “well that’s just…weird….”

And then my eyes traveled to another wall and landed on this little piece of art:

My paper gown crinkled loudly as I shrunk back in horror.

Oh. My. God.

Ok, ok, look. I realize I’ve not had the opportunity to give birth in this little life of mine, but I am over 40 and fairly familiar with how all the parts work. I’m not naïve about the female body…….

But let me tell you this: that little candy mold looking thing is NOT encouraging any desire for birthin’ no babies inside of me at all.

That circle in the lower left corner? That thing is as big as a bread plate. I don’t want no watermelon coming though my bread plate! Hell, I don’t even want something in that part of my body to become as big as a bread plate!

And you know that the progression from the top left all the way to the right then down and back to the bottom left is going to hurt. You can’t take an orifice the size of dime and make it a bread plate without some massive amount of pain.

Personally, I think that when each little girl reaches that milestone in her life where she “becomes a woman” that she should be issued one of these little silicone baking dishes.

Just pin that to your wall, sweetheart, and take a gooooood look. If yer feeling frisky around those boys, just remember: BREAD PLATE!

I wonder if I can order two for my goddaughters? There’s still time to get ahead of this thing.


I appreciate that it is December and no where near Mom’s Day, but I’m just saying, if you still have a mom that walks this earth, take a moment to thank that nice lady for pushing your huge cabeza through her bread plate. That’s an act of love if there ever was one.

Note to my own dear, sweet Mom: I was your third watermelon. Whatever were you thinking? Both me and my huge pumpkin head thank you.

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  • Ur bro

    Thanks Mom! Especially as I came feet first.

    • Karen Fayeth

      Backassed Big Bro – Ma was probably like “oh hey, this is not so bad….” then your big ol’ melon showed up.


  • Lynn

    Hahahahaha! BREAD PLATE! As another non-birth-givin woman, I feel the same way. Makes it a lot clearer now why “it’s never the same”. :)

  • Sally Acosta

    Can I get one of those to hang in Naomi’s room too please!

  • Beth

    I’ve heard giving birth described as “squeezing something the size of a watermelon through a hole the size of a lemon.” I guess it’s a little bigger than a lemon, but not much. No kids for me, either (by choice; dogs and cats will do just fine, thank you). My mom had 8 kids; I don’t know how she did it. And I was 10 pounds at birth. And she never had any more kids after me. :)

  • Anji

    I’ve had three. You forget the pain and agony – just until that moment when it starts to happen again.

    If I’d have seen that bread plate before I started out I would have adopted. It would make an excellent birth control teaching prop!

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