Mons

Have you ever thought very much about your mons? I mean, besides grooming, of course. Do you even know what a mons is? I suggest you google it before you read on.

I’m willing to bet 50% of people don’t even know what a mons is.

Well, I have become acutely aware of my mons these last 18 days. This may be TMI for you, so stop reading. Might be too late. I may have already defined just how WT I am and how I will never be invited to any White House.

But, since I am the fun friend, I will go on.

You see, on 1/4/22 one of the things they did was place FOUR surgical drains all stitched to and coming out of the top of my mons. (A mons that used to be covered by skin and fat that didn’t belong there.) Four of them, side by side, all probably like 4 inches all up in there that you couldn’t see. They are called Jackson-Pratt Drains or JP drains for short. No big deal, in the scheme of all that was done. But by the time you are home and realize you have four of these things to manage everywhere you go and anytime one of them is accidentally pulled or malpositioned, or just in the wrong place IT’S PULLING ON YOUR MONS. And that does not feel good. You are acutely aware of your mons more than you ever want to be.

So now I’m down to one drain. With each drain removal (and no they don’t give you local anesthetic, they just clip the sutures and yank that 4 inches of whatever tube is in your body right on out take a deep breath ok it’s out are you ok?) you are relieved. One less point of mons torture.

One more. Hopefully by Monday or Tuesday. Then guess what?

I will just have a regular mons. One that is still healing but that same kind all you regular basic bitches have. In the right place.