Just Crazy Enough pt.1

This is the first installment of a series I hope to continue of the random shit that crosses my mind on the train ride home. I find myself alone on the train at least 5 days a week, a handful of which rides occur late at night, so I have a lot of time to poke through the crazy and form coherent sentences, which I then document as notes on my iPod. If I think they're coherent enough for public consumption, I'll post them up here.
I must warn you, Just Crazy Enough pt.1 starts the series off with a sort of grotesque bang, so those sensitive souls amongst you may want to just wait for the next installment.

5/29/10
I have a love/hate relationship with my vagina.I find myself both fascinated with and disgusted by it on almost a daily basis. There's just nothing sexy or even vaguely appealing about the vagina in general, and as a woman with little-to-no self esteem, I can honestly do without another unattractive feature on my body.
Both men and women around the world have tried to convince me of what a wonderful piece of art the vagina really is, but I am yet to see what could be so beautiful about that thing between my legs. To be honest, I'd love to see the delicate flower that it has been compared to, but I just don't. It's not that pretty, and in my experience it seems to bring nothing but drama! I fail to see where the fascination comes from, other than the curiosity of men who don't have their own to explore.
I find myself intrigued, however, because something so unappealing that manages to complicate so many things for me still has the power to also bring unspeakable pleasure. Of course, the pleasure is not always necessarily a welcome occurrence. Sometimes the desire for such pleasure just brings you back to my point about the drama and confusion. Maybe it's karma. I've done terrible things to my vagina in the name of "beauty". I have shaved, plucked, waxed and even sprayed myself with nasty chemicals because I hear that's what guys want. I hear they go crazy for that smooth feeling, but I don't know why I bother if no one knows what's down there. Two men have ever been allowed passage below my belt (and whom shall remain anonymous for privacy sake, though you know who you are), and have lived to tell the tale. I practically maimed the most vulnerable part of my body, and they both screwed me over in the end (no pun intended). Oh, vagina, you are a strange, impossible thing, and I (partially) blame you for my crazy.