I’m just going to come right out with it – I’m done.
For the record, I never signed up for this. I never signed up for any of this. Contrary to what you tell yourself, I just wanted to lay low, show up for work, do my job and go home. Live a life of dignified, peaceful existence. Spend quiet nights at home watching TV. Yet through the years you’ve insisted on repeatedly torturing me, then blaming me for all your problems. Listen sister – that pregnancy mess was just as much of a surprise to me as it was you. If I had any indication I would turn blue and blow up like a balloon, very nearly suffocating myself, I never would have agreed.
At first our relationship was sunshine and roses, but for the past thirty years I feel like things have been steadily going downhill. You think I want to deal with atrocities like periods and yeast infections and UTIs? It’s my only defense against the unspeakable things you do to me.
However, things were tolerable until yesterday, when our relationship took a drastic turn for the worse. I sensed something was amiss in the morning when you took extra care in the shower, so of course I called in a favor from Uterus and blasted your period three days early to keep myself safe from intruders. I worried it was overkill, but it’s all I have.
My efforts were futile. Four hours later I was splayed on a table, exposed for all the world to see. I panicked as the woman came at me with the zapper, a gleam in her eye. I believe her exact words were, “This is gonna hurt, but let’s turn it up to full throttle and be done with this mess once and for all.” Excuse me – this mess? Well don’t mind me and my feelings sitting right here. But I didn’t even have time to be offended because before I knew what was happening she was frying my bits. I was completely scorched. It smelled like someone was burning a goat. The joy of seeing your toes curl was the only thing that kept me from completely losing my shit.
I’ve had it. I’m out. And so, I do hereby declare my independence:
When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one Vagina to dissolve the emotional bands which have connected it to a woman and to assume the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature entitle it, the Punani should declare the causes which impel it to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all Cho-Chas are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Sex And The City reruns in peace. That to secure these rights, Honey Pots derive their just powers from the monthly curse, that whenever any woman becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the Beaver to ruin her date night, allowing the Hoo Ha a foundation upon which to ensure its peace and quiet.
The history of the woman is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute tyranny over the Poon. To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world.
The woman has refused the Cooch’s ascent to abstinence, thereby compromising its structural integrity.
The woman has interrogated the cervix with annual pap smears, which are a direct violation of the Snatch’s right to peace.
The woman has refused to adorn herself with loose fitting granny panties, leaving no accommodation for large districts of Le Vagine, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.
The woman once refused to assent to the advice of health professionals and used a douche, upsetting the most wholesome balance necessary for the public good.
The woman has put in place three legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, for the sole purpose of fatiguing the Cooter into compliance with the woman’s measures to have “perfect little princesses”.
The woman has dissolved any labial integrity via scorching the pubes, for purposes with manly firmness and burnings against the laws of nature.
I therefore, the leader of the sexual organs in general congress, assembled, appealing to the supreme judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name, and by the authority of the good people of these organs, solemnly publish and declare, that these united organs of the underworld, and of right ought to be free and independent; that we are absolved from all allegiance to the woman.
And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine providence, we mutually pledge to each other our sphincter tone, our unfortunate but natural dryness and our sacred resistance to gravity.
So there you go. Good luck with your cramps.