NSFW: Only in LA

I’m a prude. Rather than pretend otherwise, I’m just going to embrace my more brilliant, uptight qualities. I still blush. I’ll still exclaim “Oh, my” when I see things like the full frontal shots in “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” (although, Jason, you are a brave man with nothing to be ashamed of—well done.)

Having said all of this, you must understand that Los Angeles, much like New York before this, has been a learning experience for me. I honestly believe I’ve had conversations here that people elsewhere probably do not have, or am I just out of touch in addition to being rigid?

For instance— how many of you have had conversations about vaginal rejuvenation? I’ll be honest; I wasn’t entirely certain what it was. It sounds sort of relaxing – perhaps a form of really intriguing massage, or herbal cleanse? Or it could some form of pep talk specifically designed for the zone—although someone yelling you are good enough, strong enough and darn it, people like you, to my vagina would probably traumatize me more than rejuvenate me.

Then I found out what this actually was. Apparently, you can surgically tighten up all the related areas south of the border. One ad I saw indicated that you could be “tight as a virgin” again for your man. Well, yippee. Hands up if that actually sounds good to you because I’m finding the phrase “hell, no” rolling around my brain. Once was quite enough, thank you.

Obviously, if you’ve had trauma, I get why this kind of reconstruction would be important. But as a way to give your man a special surprise? I don’t think so. Again, leaving out the possibilities of having many children or trauma, who came up with this? I’m willing to bet it was not a woman. Apparently, the procedure has come a long way, but initially it was difficult to control. So much so that normal sexual function was excruciating afterwards—but hey, as long as things were tight for the guy, who really cared, right?

Men have sagging issues, right? Gravity pulls certain sac like structures southward, too, right? Are there men lining up for sac lifts?

I will say one thing, though; I may have found one of two really great ways to get out of work without any further questions. Seriously—the first time someone questions why you are taking so much sick time at work, just throw out the following: “I’ve had complications from my vaginal rejuvenation surgery”. If anything other than silence or sputtering follows, you must be in LA.

The second “no questions asked” reason for calling out of work: complications from anal bleaching.

This is another topic of conversation so rarely heard outside of Los Angeles. I swear to you, I have heard the following sentence uttered: “Oh, he won’t date anyone who hasn’t had her asshole bleached”.

Let that sink in for a moment.

I have a number of questions, the first of which is, how the hell does someone you’ve just met know one way or another? Is it the way you walk? Because I can see how you might walk funny for a couple of days. Is this a question I’m going to face on a first date? When I’m filling out my online forms, should I not be shocked when this rolls by among the top five questions that my potential date wants to know? In addition to the war on pubic hair, do the women of Los Angeles now have to wonder if the color of their anal ring is pleasing? Should we be shooting for pearl, or something so white that the glow can be seen from space?

Normally, I’d say that my ass is not in play. But if it were in play—you know, after 20 years of begging from my loyal and dedicated husband—there better be nothing but obsequious gratitude directed my way. What should not be directed my way is the following: “Uh, so, you gonna keep it that color?”

I’m not here to judge. Goodness, who among us hasn’t thought, “Gosh, I’d love to burn my anus with a highly caustic agent tonight”? But seriously—what are we doing to ourselves?

Kate, re-thinking the whole convent thing

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