Friday, May 16, 2008

Mutilation, My Love

My wife and I had a baby boy. In it’s first week of life we were all it new. We were the snugglers, the caregivers, the feeders and the change-my-crappy-diapers-because-cold-poo-is-unpleasant-on-my-penis-ers. Completely unable to care for itself, he trusted us and, I even believe, loved us. Like any good parents of baby boys we held our child and looked tenderly at his trusting and loving face. Then we asked someone to mutilate our child’s penis.
Before the circumcision, he had an adorable little penis. It looked like three peas in a pod. I assume that is what an uncircumcised penis is supposed to look like. I only have my own Darth Vader helmeted little friend as comparison. Well, there was that one drunken time in college where I lost 5 bucks in a size challenge. I was entirely focused on the ruler I swear and, since it was clear I could never prevail against Bruno “Tripod” Quatrone, I never competed again. Anyway, based on a comparison of one, it was an adorable and slightly odd looking little penis.
Three days after mutilating our child, his penis was still a bloody little stump. One side was higher than the other and the bottom had an unsightly bulge. Neither my wife nor I was willing to kiss it and make it better. We took him to his pediatrician. The pediatrician pulled and poked and said many noncommittal things. Finally, I said, “What I’m not hearing you say, Doctor, is ‘That’s one beautiful penis.’”
Still the doctor refused to commit. The best he said was, “It is not the best circumcision I’ve seen but it will function normally and aesthetically, it should look normal.”
“He can pee?” I asked
“Yes,” answered the doctor.
“He can give me grandchildren?” my wife asked.
“Yes,” answered the doctor.
“He won’t be called monster-cock . . . in a bad way . . . by his girlfriends?” I asked.
“He should not be called monster-cock or even Frankenstein-cock,” answered the doctor.
I felt relieved my son would have normal functioning. My wife was pleased he would be normal aesthetically although I don’t think he should have a girlfriend who has such a vast knowledge of penises that she critiques them.
I have had a penis for 37 years. I have spent a lot of time with my penis. When I was 12 through 17 years old and again when I was 25 through 29 years old, my penis was my only friend. In all of that time, I have only peed, done things related to providing my mom grandchildren (or solo-practiced anyway) and not be called monster-cock. I have experimented but that was all my penis could do. Well . . .that was all it could do well. Was there anything else? After all of these years and many, many hours I dedicated to my penis, was my penis holding back on me? What other secrets does my penis have?
After more healing, my son’s penis is looking more normal. Other parents tell me it can be a year or two before it looks completely “normal”, normal for a mutilated penis that is. I no longer have concerns about his penis but the relationship between my penis and me will never be the same. The harm there cannot be healed with time.

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