My Vasectomy – Part 3

Upstairs Amish - in case a later joke goes over anyone's head

Some people have expressed surprise that I am writing about having a vasectomy as it happens. 

Their issues seem to fall into two categories:

1. It’s unlike me to talk about such a thing

2. It is unseemly to talk about such a thing

The first point is pretty accurate. I probably wouldn’t say many of the things I’ve said on here face to face with people. And, if any of you do come face to face with me in the near future – to tell the truth – I’d rather not discuss any of this with you.

Having said that, there is something of the confidential diary about writing a blog. I sit here by myself writing it, in a sense, to myself. Unlike half-witted footballers using Twitter, however, I am actually well aware that this is not a private environment and that anyone can read it.

For what it’s worth, I’ve always felt much more comfortable addressing large groups of people from a stage of sorts – be it public speaking or any kind of performing – than I am talking “up close and personal”. And this is the same sort of thing, with the added bonus that I can edit what I'm saying. 

So, people who haul me up on the first point: well, guilty as charged.

On the second point – yeah, there’s a wince factor. And yeah, perhaps it’s too much information and you’d rather not know quite so much about it all.

Sorry, but writing about it – making a joke about something that is both inherently frightening and ridiculous – is helping me. And it might be helpful to someone else who is thinking about having a vasectomy but can’t find anything that says “what it’s like” – just loads of GCSE biology diagrams.

That’s enough self-justification.

Back to my testicles.

This evening, I will have to shave my balls. Yesterday, I bought some Veet “bikini and armpit cream” with which to do it. I felt a little embarrassed in the shop choosing my product, but then it occurred to me that – looking at me (for I am a hirsute man) – nobody could assume otherwise than that I was buying depilatories for someone else.

Still, it was one of the few occasions on which I was actually pleased to use one of those awful self-service checkouts. You know, the kind that have to have a team of staff watching over them to help customers who can’t work them out and to unlock them when they crash.

As you will recall, I was instructed to deforest “the top of the testicles” in particular.

Right now, I am pondering whether to go for the full Mitchell Brothers or just the downstairs Amish. Any suggestions gladly received.