According to the powers that be (recently, the LA Times and Salon, among others) female genital mutilation vaginal “rejuvenation” procedures are on the rise, leaving an unknown percentage of women everywhere convinced that something’s wrong with their vajayjays (thanks, Grey’s! And I thought all you had left to offer were dubious plot arcs and increasingly poor casting choices, having now rid yourself of the venerable Erica Hahn). But I digress, uh, as usual. Back to the old vag. Now, I’ve long associated the notion of rejuvenation with, well, sleep – around here, that’s called a 20-minute nap – a few precious, stolen moments during which a 13-month old isn’t punching me in the face or shrieking that he wants food. Not with the surgical trimming of my labia, tightening of my, er, diameters, or an injection into my G-spot for improved orgasms (god knows I’d certainly take the latter if it came right down to it, though. Just saying.)
Regardless, I’m fighting mad that I (and you, if you’re got a vajayjay yourself, so listen up) am now supposed to fret about not only my hair, the ever-problematic Ts and A, thighs, face, and facial lip size and shape but also those lips that, let’s be honest, next to no one sees. I mean, maybe during that pinnacle of sexual experimentation my 20s, or before pregnancy and childbirth stretched the shit out of them slightly changed their appearance, but not these days, right? Aren’t I supposed to be worried about the economy, the presidency, how the kid’s going to ever make it college or how I’m going to figure out exactly what I want to do for the second of the alleged five to six careers I’m supposed to have before I retire? My cholesterol, maybe? And doesn’t our apparent inability to avoid caving to trends already bilk us out of gazillions of dollars each year, spent, often in vain, to meet a rigorous, ridiculous, and generally unattainable standard of beauty and desirable femininity.? And this was before we were told our Betties were ugly and desperately in need of liposculpturing, vaginal diameter reduction, labioplasty, and G-spot puffing.
Dr. David Matlock, MD, MBA, and FACOG, and the progenitor of both the trademarked “G-Spot Amplification” (“G-Shot”) and the “Wonder Woman Makeover” (a ginormous, five-procedures-in-one megasurgery in which a patient typically undergoes “laser vaginal rejuvenation, laser reduction labioplasty, liposculpturing with Brazilian Butt Augmentation, and breast augmentation” on the same day) performs these procedures at the Laser Vaginal Rejuvenation Institute of Los Angeles and on E’s reality-cum-docudrama “Dr. 90210.” That’s tight, man. Really, really . . . tight.
That’s right. There’s a spa-like institute for your drooping kitty, a cavernous fixer-upper if there ever were one, and a bevy of surgical procedures to, um, “empower” you and offer you “alternatives”. And it’s in L.A. Uncanny. And herein lies a good part of the problem – by ingeniously creating, selling, and maintaining the notion that something must be terribly wrong with the vagina you were born with, Matlock and friends have imbued us with even more self-hatred than we already exercise via these professed alternatives, which, coincidentally, cost a great deal of money and continue to sustain a culture in which only the very privileged can attain the increasingly impossible standard while the rest of us can just eff off. I’m only pretty sure that your insurance isn’t going to pay for you to whack off your labia because they aren’t porn enough or blow up your G-spot with helium (collagen? Botox? Kool Aid?) because you want to better please your male partner yourself sexually.
I’m not denying that there’s a very real need for vaginal reconstructive surgery, and I don’t wish to downplay the very real mass shunning of women in various cultures whose sex organs are hurt, damaged, or destroyed in childbirth, through rape, and via female genital mutilation. And, to be fair, that bastion of the “pretty kitty” offers reconstructive solutions to real problems, like urinary incontinence and vulvar injury. But these procedures make up – you guessed it – the minority. A small one (minority that is, not vagina. If yours were already small enough, you wouldn’t have read this far, would you?) Vaginal rejuvenation is largely marketed to women who have unfortunately internalized the notion that they just aren’t aesthetically pleasing down there and largely performed on women for aesthetic reasons alone. And that really, really sucks. I’m pretty sure that people have had satisfying, sexy-Rexy sex and have been aesthetically drawn to one another across time and space before the advent of this kind of cosmetic surgery . . . and that men and women probably didn’t turn down a solid roll in the proverbial hay because their partner’s labia was too thick, too long, too dark, too Sideways, just too too. Too something. Excuse me while I go take a look, down there, before I punch MYSELF in the face.
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