Adventures In Plastic Surgery: Pimp My Vadge

When I first heard about labioplasty and vaginoplasty a few years ago, it sounded like a procedure that would only appeal to porn stars and women who practice the rhythm method-you know, SUVs-Service Utility Vaginas. But vaginal plastic surgery is a growing trend as evidenced by the opening of practices dedicated to the procedure, like the one I dragged my labes to on Manhattan’s Upper East Side.

Frankly, I think this whole cookie-cutter cooch thing is bunch of bullshit. I’m a feminist and everything, but I’ll be the first to acknowledge that vaginas aren’t always pretty. The thing is though, vaginas are supposed to be like that. And just like snowflakes, no two are the same. I’m sure there are occasions of extreme physical abnormality, but those cases are rare. Because if they were common, then they wouldn’t be abnormal, now would they?

Honestly, I have no beef with my lips-they’ve always done right by me. So when I was finally in the doctor’s office, and he asked me what I wanted fixed, I had to think fast on my feet-or in my stirrups, rather. It’s really clear to anyone looking that I don’t have a labia minora problem, so I made up a complaint about my labia majora. I was somewhat shocked that he agreed that something could be done to improve the appearance of my pussy.

It was weird watching the doctor push and tug at my labia in the promotional Ortho Tri-Cyclen mirror that the nurse was holding up. It was even weirder because he was kind of sexy, with his salt and pepper hair and his toothy grin. Still, it was sort of upsetting when he told me that my outer lips could stand to loose some weight through lipo. No girl likes to be told she’s chubby-even if it’s only in the labia. Something about that visit was fishy-and it had nothing to do with my legs being spread wide open.