Hey Mom..what the heck is Vaaagisiiilllll?

If it’s not enough that I have to deal with teaching 4 university writing classes, my husband being away for training, handling the boys and the house and the dogs by myself, I also have to get sick…horribly, awfully, green phlegmy sick.  And there’s no one to take care of me.

To add to my misery, the prescribed antibiotics I had to take, threw my delicate feminine hormones out of whack and gee, what do ya know?  A dreadful yeast infection.  Any woman who has experienced the itchy, burning sensations that are accompanied by a yeast infection, understands that this is not a happy time (and for those of you who have not, consider yourself fortunate).  Thankfully, there is a superman to the rescue and it comes packaged in a pretty purple box labeled with the word “Vagisil” spread across it in big, black letters.  You really can’t miss it.

And neither did my 12 year old son when he went to use the toilet in my bathroom.

“Hey mom..what the heck is vaaagisiiiillll?” he asked me with a sly smile.

I can not begin to explain the embarrassment that came over me as I stood there at the kitchen sink with a soapy sponge in one hand and a pan in the other as my son casually plopped himself into the bar stool across from me as though he was about to be entertained with the release of a new movie trailer for Jackass.  The only thing missing was a bowl of popcorn.

I live in a house full of men who believe that women do not fart or even shit for that matter. And if they do shit, it smells like roses.  Meanwhile, they get to act like and smell like pigs around me, so the thought of a woman actually having feminine issues is quite intriguing for them.

Anyways, so as I stood there across from my son with my jaw hanging slightly open and the blood draining from my face all the while trying to act cool and collected as if his question hadn’t just thrown me off balance, I gathered my thoughts and contemplated how the hell I was going to answer his question.  Of course it would be an honest answer, but how did I do that without disgusting him too much with regards to the nuances of feminine hygiene.

“Well, you know I’ve been sick, and the antibiotics I’ve been taking have messed with my hormones and as a result I have some feminine itching.”

“Feminine itching!?” he laughed. “You mean your vagiiinnnaaa???”  He laughed even harder this time as though the word itself coming out of his mouth tickled his tongue all the way out.  Unfortunately for me, my pantry is a tiny closet so there was no where for me to hide while at the same time I fought back the contagiousness of his laughter. “So if you get a rash on your ass would you use Assisil?” More laughter as he gets up and walks away back to his room leaving me standing there trying to make sense of what just occurred.

As I finished washing the dishes I turned to my husband, who had been standing there the entire time smiling quietly to himself,  and told him, “You better go talk to him.  Last thing we need is him going to school and educating all of his friends on Vaaagiiisiiilll.”

Peace Out!

-Natasha Olivera

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