anniversary of sorts

The first week of August is always a little rough for me.  Usually we are trying to prepare for school to start and trying to stretch our summer activities as long as possible.  We are usually trying to prep for my son’s birthday and coordinated festivities.  This is also when I’m usually (minus a break this year) headed to my favorite blogging conference with all my buddies.

The first week is August is also when I reach yet another anniversary.

Of my hysterectomy.

Now, I don’t want to get all girly and weird and sentimental about my lady business.  But, that’s usually what happens.  I usually try to take a moment for myself to remember.  To be thankful for my children.  And sometimes to be angry that it had to happen in the first place.

Then I usually put on my big girl britches, get over myself, and move on for another year.

The importance of this day never really occurs to anyone but me and I wouldn’t expect it to.  When I mentioned the date to Hubby this year he suggested I make a tradition and go out and do something womanly.

I pondered this all day and couldn’t come up with anything that wasn’t stereotypical: pedicures, shopping for a new outfit, coffee with a girlfriend, having some charming shape waxed into my nether regions commemorate what used to be “down there.”  (what the hell shape would that be anyway – a cervix?!)

No, none of that feels quite right.

Instead I’m going to sit here on my couch and writing about feminism.  I’m going to write about feminism and feminist theory in an attempt to remember those before me and those that created the path I so openly walk. I’m not sure how girly that is, but for today it’s all I’ve got.

and, p.s. – don’t google the shape of a cervix.  it only makes you realize that your chosen waxing shape will make your vagina look like a SingAMaJig.

You’re welcome.