With Having a Long Vagina Comes a Long List of Responsibilities

by Laura Magnani
Laura Magnani

During my annual gynecological exam my gynecologist let me know that I have a long vagina. He cheerfully made this announcement while inserting the speculum with the same finesse as Buffy the Vampire Slayer when she plants stakes in hearts.

“Ah,” I replied. “Thanks.”

So, I have a long vagina… I begin to wonder how long.
Isn’t it supposed to be either wide or tight?

I don’t know why, but the idea of having, at least what seems to be an interstate corridor between my thighs fills me with joy. My uterus has had this secret gift all along and no gynecologist before had ever let me know.

My imagination went wild. So what he’s saying is… if I were a guy I would have a very large penis!
It’s obvious, I am above average.
I have a super power.
I have a super vagina.

“Please cough” the gynecologist asked.

I did as I was told, then jumped back to thinking about the future of my newly-discovered virtue.

My mind could already imagine a model of my vagina, my long vagina. The fallopian tubes, uterus and ovaries molded in plastic ready for Dr. Sanjay Gupta to examine even the smallest detail… not to mention interview.

If I had my choice though, I would get interviewed by Dr. Oz, and sit in one of those armchairs I always wanted for my living room, next to Kathy Lee and Hoda.

So, how does it feel to have such a long vagina?” Dr. Oz would inquire.
“Well, it’s a lot of responsibility, but I know it’s not too long to handle” I would respond in all seriousness.

“You’re an excellent role model and I wish you the best of luck in your work. Thanks for taking the time to speak to us. And now for this commercial break.”

My new-found talent could open up a whole world of opportunity.
With my long vagina, I could lead a nation. I could start a political movement, the “Democratic Vagina Party”. I could even become an actress in an entirely new category of porno films dedicated just to me “The Long Vagina” or “5th Avenue Vag”.

I got dressed while the doctor filled out his papers, feeling renewed and full of life.

There wasn’t enough time in the day. Suddenly my life felt full of commitments and goals that needed to be achieved for the good of the country.

“See you next year, ma’am” he said shaking my hand goodbye.
“Thanks. Listen, earlier you said, well, that I have a long one, right? Well, what exactly does that mean? Like compared to other women who have short ones?” I asked with sincere curiosity.

“You really want to know what difference it makes?” he asked scrutinizing me.

“Yes Doctor, for better or for worse, just tell me. What’s the difference?” I was starting to feel alarmed and needed to know.

“Not a fucking thing.”

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