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SEXY HEALTH By: Amethyst Saw






 I heard the sound of the 1:50pm alarm. My phone sounded like someone was slowly pouring glitter,cake sprinkles and golden magic dust on four words.
"Take oral contraceptive now!" glowed on the phone screen. My neon lemon lacquered finger nails unzipped my purse and pulled out the combination oral pill pack. Pum! The tiny yellow pill dropped into my right palm. My palm threw it into my mouth. It was closely followed by a torrent of Eva bottle water. I felt satisfied with the amount of water I just drank. My throat didn't feel like the pill had grabbed on to it. Refusing to be flushed towards activation.

 My vajayjay's health is as important as credit alerts. It has always been important to me. My mother encouraged my younger self to get acquainted with my lady part, as she called them. Every question I had were answered with love and non-judgement. Little wonder during Primary One's colorful art class I explained to my table buddies where babies come from. The biology of the discussion blew their minds. My sexual safety was a major concern as the daughter of a rape victim. Or that I was fascinated with the wonder house Everywoman described my body as. Or the scandals around my secondary school friends sexual awakenings. Or maybe it was all these that made me take sex health serious.

 The consciousness of my sexuality. Vagina hygiene and hard learnt pH lessons. Crimson days with primary dysmenorrhea.Yeast infection episodes. Period cycle changes. Queef while on all fours. Gaining sexual confidence. Routine tests. Embracing my sexual appeal. Hot,slutty,sweaty sex. Slow seconds, patience plus pregnancy test strips. Pharmacists' slut shaming. Overprized female vaginal health care products purchases ( like seriously medical companies, stop!). Sexual assault flashbacks. Awkward gynaecologist check-ups. Walks of no shame. Even freezing nipples (don't ask). I have literally been through it all.
But this!

 Urethra Fart. Yes, urethra Fart had me on Google after writing my dissenting arbitral award last night. Knowledge is power as such. I could recite the side effects of the Levonorgestrel and Ethinylestradiol.
My first ovulation day on the pill was a mess. Headaches, dizziness and the fun breasts' tenderness. I'm sure the Arbitral Registrar is wondering why I'm smiling. My smile crept up on my oblong face because of my 2 seconds tender breasts grabbing. Silliness I indulged in on an empty office elevator ride.

 My burgundy blazer rested against the plush love seat under the weight of my back. I spread my thighs apart just a little bit and waited. Nothing. No tiny bubbles of air are travelling along my urethra to burst out below my clitoris as odourless fart. I guess the urethra fart side effect is a thing of the night. A deep breath slowly escaped my shea butter oiled lips. Work was intense today. The biege love seat vibrated startling my preoccupation with the white ceiling. Lunch break is over and I hadn't eaten my springrolls! Aaargh!

 Will I stop the pills? No. I have tried a couple of contraceptives but not a 28 days pack. The emergency pill, check. Condoms, male and female types. Check check. Herbal contraceptives. Yes, the Yoruba agbo works better than the morning after pill. #noshade. Two of my friends have IUDs. I live through them, so check!
I'm not stopping because I love adventure. Even though my Prague arbitration confirms this attribute. I'm not stopping because it helps reduce primary dysmenorrhea. I'm a sucker for habits, routines, order and commitments. My mother's smirk echoed from memory. Commitment is her synonym of marriage. I love my empty kitchen sink and fashion rings too much for that synonym.
It's a challenge to add this to my lifestyle. Everyday and wherever I commit to swallowing. The routine addict in me isn't stopping. Urethra fart or not.

 My black leather skirt sat back at the Panel table. I picked up my bottle of water. Yh, I imported my water. Benefits of handling a UN arbitration. *shrug.
H2O cheers to my non-latex sex fest in Lagos tonight!
H2O cheers to my sexy health.


©OJ Thorpe blog 

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