Guest Post: Martinis and Sex

I am a used uterus.  Only slightly used, mind you.  I’ve done my job and I think my Boss Lady would give me a glowing recommendation.  We get along pretty well; I try not to cramp her style too much and she doesn’t expect a lot from me, so the relationship works.

I’ve had two tenants in the past 11 years.  The first one accidentally gave me a good punch a few days ago but I just smiled indulgently, remembering when those blows came from the inside instead of the outside.  The latest tenant gave Boss Lady a kiss on the belly just this evening, but I knew it was for me.  I’ll always have a soft, squishy lining for these little people that once called me home.

However, I’m retired.  Not officially, because at 30, Boss Lady could call me back into service for at least another 10 years, but we’ve had a tete-a-tete and have come to the mutual agreement that I can kick back and enjoy the next 50 or so years in peace, just hanging out while my neighbours continue to work day in, day out.  It’s my reward for a job well done.


I didn’t give her much trouble in our youth (except for my own rebellious stage when I allowed myself to get pregnant at 19 – oops!), took great care of my first and second tenants, pushed them out into the world with relative ease (although I was not the quickest at it), and have pretty much kept to myself each month, doing what I have to with as little inconvenience to Boss Lady as possible (Clarabelle and Bessie upstairs are a different story though, they’re not always nice to BL, or so I hear).

So now, 5 ½ years after my last tenant, Boss Lady can hold a baby and I don’t even so much as twitch.  I’m just sipping a martini (BL likes Caesars, but I’m a martini kind of gal), reading a trashy romance, and minding my own beeswax.  I even overheard her telling my buddy, ‘The D”, that he could get the big snip if he so desired.  He’s less than keen since my current tenant, Mirena, keeps me out of ‘the family way’, unless someone changes their mind.  Which I doubt.

And speaking of “The D”, maybe I should go pay him a visit.  He’s usually pretty nice to me too.  😉



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My Motherful Life has a uterus with a voice! Guest Post

Apparently, I’m not the only uterus with a voice.  An early follower from Twitter, My Motherful Life, lets her uterus speak up and share her story.  Enjoy!


Howdy!  It has been a long time since I’ve gotten a chance to speak for myself.  These last few years, my supervisor has been making decisions for me, and it has been quite the journey!

So far I’ve managed to lodge, and later evict, three squatters.  Two boys and one girl.  Surprisingly my female tenant was the most troublesome. 

All of my squatters were coaxed out in some way.  The first was asked to exit early for safety reasons.  The second was two days late and a visit (aka pain in the ass physical exam) to the doctor resulted in things being jump started.  And the last had lapsed on her lease by five days, but another visit to the doctor was all the motivation she needed to seek shelter elsewhere.

Fortunately for me, finding squatters to hang around has been surprisingly easy.  Riding the crimson wave has always been a very regular and punctual activity for me, so figuring out when my two best friends were doing their thing was a simple task.  My last squatter had a knack for sitting on my nearest neighbor, the bladder, and making the lady upstairs have to pee all.the.time.  And all of them gave her some serious heart burn-even water.

I do find it highly amusing to hear never-occupied uteri (?) discuss the complexity of harboring fugitives and having the authorities work to get them out.  Popular culture has done a hell of job glossing over the reality of what pregnancy and childbirth are REALLY like.  The reality of housing a squatter for so many months and the toll it takes is not for the faint of heart!  Pregnancy is beautiful.  But the part that comes after, the eviction part—there is nothing pretty about that.  And I don’t mean the miracle of bringing forth life and all that jazz, but the actual grunting, panting, pushing, and releasing of fluids is not pretty.

My last squatter is now a little over seven months old and doing great!  My commander in chief and the first husband have recently started talking about one more tenant, at least circling the idea because she doesn’t want to wait years to start over again with baby-dom.  However, the original squatter (oldest son) has made it clear that he’s not at all interested in having any new additions—he has enough siblings he says!  It’s not decided yet, but the boss lady has put a final acceptance notice for new applicants that concludes at the end of summer 2013.

My supervisor is pretty easy going.  She’s trying to be more active these days which isn’t always fun for me, but I’m adjusting to it.  Overall, I have to say that she’s not too bad!  I’m undecided about how I feel on having to possibly house yet another squatter, but I guess I’ll know before too long since I don’t really have a choice in the matter🙂 Ultimately I’ll do my duty and put up with the stretching, contracting, bumping, and straining.  A uterus has to do what a uterus has to do!


image - my motherful life

My Motherful Life

Mom, wife, avid reader, addicted to Restoration Hardware & Netflix, champion diaper changer, & wish I had a clue about what I’m doing!

Twitter: @mymotherfullife



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