I’m cis. I don’t experience the intermittent extra labia awareness specifically, but the entire outer area, (as opposed to the uterus and fallopian tubes etc.), is often on my mind, reminding me of my gender. I love having a vagina. (I’m referring to the whole thing when I say, ‘vagina’). It may not be the prettiest vagina by societal standards, but it’s mine and it makes me feel like myself. I’ve always been strongly aware of it. I like reminders of it. Not because I’m especially proud of it, but because it reminds me that I’m a woman and I’m very happy being a woman. Except for periods. But those are gone now. I’ve just reached that most holy of milestones; my cronage. (Yeah, that wasn’t a word until just now.) I’ve been looking forward to my crone years for so long and they’re finally here. Hallelujah!
I think of how it must be for men, having to adjust those bits hanging between their legs. Having to scratch (a lot, apparently). The embarrassment of the inconvenient hard-on. It makes me shudder. It’s not that I don’t like the male package. I love men and their bodies. I just wouldn’t like a male body on me. But I think I might be able to survive it if it weren’t for everything else that came with being male. I don’t know if I could survive that. I suppose we can survive anything. But that? God. I don’t know. The inner dissonance and the outer pressure. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.
Sorry. Went way off topic there.