My vagina can dissolve a penis.

Well, not exactly. And only for three days after an infusion. In fact, my entire body is toxic. For those three days I don't share utensils, drinking glasses, kiss anyone or even share a towel.

When I was in my mid-20's I lived with a set of roommates who--for whatever ridiculous fancy that strikes twenty-something minds--deemed that my vagina inspired corruption in others. If anyone as much as caught a glance of it, they would then engage in vice. Jason encouraged this idea (we had just begun dating). This might sound unusual but everything that's done in our 20's is unusual--especially those mid to late 20's when you have a little bit of income and a whole lot of freedom. Things can get downright strange.

But in middle-age, things aren't supposed to be strange. We're supposed to tend to our children, get involved in their schools, host dinners with friends, perhaps remodel a kitchen. We're supposed to coast. And, yes, divorce and cancer begin to appear as tragic and difficult as they are. But that's it. Nothing much out of the ordinary.

Unless you accidentally post a picture of your vagina on your cancer blog.

I was alerted to this fact by another school parent. A dad. And it's important to know that this dad is a self-proclaimed misanthrope. He has a hawkish gaze that bores through people. For six years, he's been an unsmiling fixture on the school playground during pick-up. We've volunteered together in classroom parties, pouring juice into cups and handing out cookies. We've scheduled playdates with our sons. I've told him several times that he scared the shit out of me when I first met him. And thankfully, he either pitied me in a moment of weakness or revealed his soft underbelly.

So what does a dad say to another school mom when he sees this sort of thing? How does a dad notify another man's wife that he's seen her vagina?

Like this:

re: photo #5 - do I need to send a dickpic in return, tit for twat as it were? cuz my phone doesn’t haz camera.

At first I didn't understand. It was an unusual email and I no longer behaved unusually. And then my stomach turned to ice. I quickly grabbed my laptop, flipped it open and reviewed the photos on my most recent blog post. And there was my vagina staring right back at me. It had been partying on the internet for 24 hours.

The picture wasn't entirely of my vagina. That would have been too obvious. My vagina was reflected in the right corner of the bathroom mirror. 

What can I say? I had recently had surgery with the robot. I wasn't wearing underwear because of my incisions. I might have been on drugs. Regardless, I didn't catch it. Jason is unfazed. 

"You secretly like this," he says. 

Um, no. But I'm coming out with it in case others had seen the photo on the internet, too. Besides, we've all seen a hamster burrow in it's nest. Now stick that hamster in-between a set of legs. There you go: you've seen my vagina and 20 million others. 

But apparently my vagina still has it going on. It can still make others engage in vice. For the misanthrope, not only did my vagina make him smile, it made him laugh and laugh.