“How was your day?” Husband asked. He rustled through the fridge looking for things to assemble some sort of adult dinner(i.e., something that didn’t involve frozen chicken nuggets or freezer burned pizza).
“I learned all about my cervix!” I said sarcastically, scrolling through the news on my phone. A few weeks ago after Mother Nature sucker punched my uterus and proved to me that I was in fact not pregnant, again, I started researching things on my lunch break which only led me to WebMD where I diagnosed myself with Ebola, cancer, and a gall bladder that was ready to explode.
Husband half closed the fridge door and peered one eye at me trying to connect the dots as to what I was talking about. The gears were turning as he pondered whether he wanted to know more, or let it go.
“Oh?” he said.
“Yep. I learned all about how it’s supposed to do all these magical things to inform me that it’s time to tango between the sheets.”
“Oh!” he said, more interested. He grabbed a jerky stick from the cheese drawer and shut the fridge to lean against the kitchen counter.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “I also found a site where a doctor took an internal picture of a chicks cervix every single day of her cycle to show all sorts of things like colors, and fluids, and textures.” (Side note: who the hell offers up their cervix like that for a photo project…I mean I’ve heard of the “Pic of the Day” type deals but usually it’s a picture of your feet on the beach or a blurred picture of your ugly cat. Not your cervix).
“Uhhh…” Husband said, slightly disgusted. “Yeah?”
“Yep. And apparently the cervix gates just don’t open up every day when you want them to. That’s the whole “timing” thing.”
Okay let’s just pump the breaks right here. Back in 5th grade, circa 1995 or so, the 5th grade teachers split our two classes up into the boys room and the girls room and we all watched a video specific to our bodies (I have somewhat of a photographic memory and I SWEAR there was nothing in that video about a cervix, let alone how it worked and the importance of mastering the opening of the cervix gates). We were also taught all about what kind of protective measures to take (pack a pad kit for your backpack, wear cotton underwear, etc. I remember thinking I was destined to wear granny panties the rest of my life in fear my period would just explode one day and catch me off guard. Which I guess sometimes, isn’t entirely impossible).
Anyway, the real reason I probably don’t remember much of that sex ed experience is because my friend and I sat in the back of the girls class to stare through the gap in the accordion fold wall into the boys class where we could clearly see what was happening on the TV strapped to the cart someone had rolled into the room. I remember looking at my friend with big round eyes and all she said was “Whatever. I have a brother. I’ve seen it all.”
I switched to my Meijer app and started clipping coupons. “So apparently you have to like, stick your digits up there and feel around for it.” *scroll, scroll*
My husband shook his head slowly, jerky stick halfway to his mouth.
“I learned all about it on my lunch break and when I um…checked…it was literally exactly they way the article said it would be. It was really weird.” *scroll*
Husband stared at me slack jawed.
I clipped another coupon and noticed that my husband had gotten very quiet. I glanced up.
“Well, yeah. How the hell else am I supposed to know what I’m looking for and when it’s supposed to be ideal cruising conditions?”
“On your lunch break?!” he hissed.
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “I was on my phone, not my work computer. It’s not that big of a deal. My office door was closed. I always read on my break.”
Husband stared at me and I felt like I was missing something.
“What?” I set my phone down.
“But…your lunch break?!” he hissed again.
And then I saw him glance south, towards my…
“No!” I shouted. “Oh my God! Really?!”
“What?! I don’t know! You said you did it on your lunch break!”
“Yeah, I READ about but I certainly didn’t…ew! Really? At work?”
“Well I don’t know! You were talking about it so casually!”
“Because reading is a casual sport!”
My husband finished his jerky and wiped his hands on his jeans. He leaned back again and crossed his arms over his chest.
“So…” he said.
“So…are the magical cervix gates open?”