or Time to Bring Out the Hydraulics
Julie Cyr
At the gynecologist’s office my friend was told she has lazy ovaries. I’ve heard of lazy husbands and lazy eyes, but I’ve never heard of lazy ovaries. I should probably Google it, but I prefer conjuring up images of the two glands kicking back on a chaise lounge sipping Mai Tais, complete with cocktail umbrellas. Are they simply refusing to reproduce or not pumping out enough estrogen? Even if a chick doesn’t want to have babies, she surely does not want excess hair on chin or chest. No woman dreams about being the bearded lady at the circus. Let’s save the excess hair for the men and their testosterone.
Speaking of men…why don’t their reproductive issues get negative labels like “lazy ovaries” and “incompetent cervix”? We don’t call it “shrinky dink” or “can’t-get-it-up syndrome.” Instead of lazy ovaries, the term could be “resting ovaries.” And instead of an incompetent cervix, we could call it “reassessing my options cervix.” At least for men, the glands are on the exterior and manipulated a little bit more easily. Just hook up some hydraulics and you’re good to go. It’s not so simple with the ovaries. They’re up in there—rubber gloves and speculum required equipment.
I don’t know what these lazy ovaries are expecting—welfare and government cheese? I suppose if they were on welfare they would be popping kids out left and right. Perhaps my friend’s ovaries are merely confused and not lazy at all. Maybe they’re acting out on purpose and feeling ignored. Other than the once a year grope, the ovaries aren’t paid much attention to until they stop working properly. Then look out—poking, prodding, and testing up the wahzoo—literally. The vagina can only take so much of this and then she’s done and wants everyone to get out of there.
In this confusion, the ovaries could have forgotten their real age. In actual years they’re 38, but maybe they think they’re 16 and rebellion is mandatory. They could be staying out late, smoking pot and drinking cheap beer. No wonder they seem lazy, they’re hung over! Or they could be going in the other direction and think they’re 80 years old. If that’s the case they’ve simply shut down for business and are napping all day.
My friend’s gynecologist has been kind about this issue, but some tough love may be required. Perhaps those lazy ovaries should get a stern talking to. It needs to be pointed out to them that they have been provided with a warm place to live all their lives. They have been nourished, cared for, and kept cancer free. Now all they need to do in return is get with the fucking program! All they have to do is produce one egg each month; how hard can that be? Maybe a threat of removal would scare them into working better. No one likes an ultimatum, but as my mom always says, “Shape up or ship out.”
“Two pairs comparing notes”, gouache on paper on panel, 2008
Julie Cyr holds a BA in English and has been published in An Ignorant Eye, Wild Minds, and has had work accepted by the Poetry Motel. She is a native New Englander and has been living in the Monadnock region for 20 years. Julie also teaches yoga and raises two rambunctious boys with her husband.
Tricia Rose Burt is a writer, performer, and award-winning visual artist. Her one-woman show, How to Draw a Nekkid Man (formerly I Will Be Good), debuted in New Hampshire and was selected for the 2011 New York International Fringe Festival. She most often creates her artwork using ordinary materials in unexpected ways. View more of her work at www.triciaroseburt.com.
Smoky Quartz 