My mom is on Facebook. She's made some friends on Facebook. They have some conversations and she learns some new things.
Things that I know about but maybe either think that my mom should already long know about such things and that we absolutely do NOT need to talk about. Or rather, more specifically, at this point in my life think these sorts of conversations are ones that she and I no longer need to have. Like, maybe we could have discussed these things when she was the teacher and I was the student, but definitely not vice versa. And DEFINITELY not conversations I want to have with my mother on the near eve of when I will soon be having such conversations with my own daughter.
But then I drink beer (of course) and she drinks too much wine (of course) and my dad is cooking fish and she gets tipsy from too much painting and too little food and too much wine and too much boredom and she calls me. And the conversation evolves from the Torres Tire Store fire and Beau's tutoring to something else entirely.
That's right baby. I'm talking about sex. Or really, the vajayjay. . .
So my mom has gone and gotten herself a lesbian friend. And this lesbian friend shared this site with her.
My mom wants to know why in the world would a woman spend that kind of money on their vajayjay when they could be spending it on something that people would see--like their face? Why???!!!! When no one is ever going to see that?
I have no answer for her. Okay, I might have a thought or two on why but really, with my mother? I don't want to go there.
So then, we-- over the phone-- look at some of the other procedures. . .
She jokes that if she were to become a "born again" virgin (like this one friend of mine who claimed way back in college to be one) that she would totally have the hymenplasty. But then we talk about, "why would anyone want to have that?"
Especially extra awkward when we then swap the extra stitch episiotomy stories.
To change the subject, I joke that maybe dad would like it if she would have the G-shot/G-spot Amplification done. And she responds that she doesn't know what the G Spot is and that Dr. Geard probably removed that part too. According to her, "he removed a lot."
Oh MY Gawd.
So of course the awkwardness is too much and her fish is now ready and Ryan is embarrassed listening in on my phone conversation anyway, so we hang up. Ryan cautions me against blogging about it, listing ramifications, but really, keeper of good judgement I am not. . .
For tomorrow, I am going to go run for a few hours in a snow storm with the ultra runner Jon Obst who will be running for 27 HOURS in a snow storm to "celebrate" his 27th birthday.
So you would think, when my mother wants to call me and discuss possible procedures on one's vagina? She knows what the fall out might be.