Vancouver
3 min

Not for the weak of dildo

A tribute to Swan Lake

Ah, there you are! I was just trying to decide whether to take the cobwebs down to the dungeon after Halloween, or simply leave them in place for the upcoming festive season. Decisions, decisions.

It’s almost as tough as trying to decide the exactly right time to go in for surgery! Do you wait until you have the money? Or do you rack up the credit card to buy your rack?

I opted for spending my life’s savings and maxing out the Visa when I had my melon implantation. It seems to take about $6,000 worth of silicon to build a substantial bust.

The next step in my incredible journey would be the ultimate gender bender surgery, the addacuntomy, as it is professionally called.

I decided to postpone that particular phase for about a year after my bustonomy procedure. My fabulous bod needed a bit of a breather, plus I was also very busy around that time.

That was the year that I played a highly visible role in the TV show Kink. You could say I created an extremely dominating presence on set. Kink was a très avant-garde production that explored the topic of people’s sexual preferences. I only explain this for those of you who have been living under a rock for several years and hence have no knowledge of the program.

At this time, I also had my internationally famous singing group, Sugar and Spice. That’s right, I was spicy before those flat-chested little twits ever sang a note! They stole quite a bit of material from me, really, to tell you the truth. But I always rise above bitterness. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery anyway, is it not?

I believe that is probably why there are so many breast implants out there–you know, you start a trend and before you can say, Bob’s yer funny uncle, everyone’s doing it.

If there was a down side to any of this, it may have been that my new bazoombas seemed to be a bit distracting. I mean, men no longer came to the ultra fabulous Kink Klinik to get their hair done. They came to loiter around, with their eyes firmly focused on my chestal regions.

We would chat, and they would possibly offer a vague reference to making a hairdressing appointment, but darlings, nothing ever came of it.

Many’s the time I would firmly grasp a stubbly chin in my hand and forcefully redirect the wandering gaze to somewhere closer to my face. Eye contact, as I once knew it, was completely gone from my life.

My boyfriend at the time couldn’t help but notice the attention Thing One and Thing Two were getting. He became madly jealous of the twins and convinced that every man in the street was ogling them. Well, they were of course, but I didn’t quite see what I could do about it.

Oh, all right, maybe I could have revealed a tad less cleavage, but why spend good money on something and then hide it under the bed?

Anyway, I found myself in a world full of people who could only speak to my chest! I even had this problem with one of those Baldwin brothers at the Kink wrap party, but I must confess, it seemed different when he did it, classier somehow.

The thing is, if you are a woman of statuesque proportions, such as myself, you are often adrift in a sea of chest-height midgets. I simply became more conscious of this fact after my surgery, that’s all.

But I digress. Where was I? Oh yes, my ultra busy year. What with one thing and another, is it any wonder I put off my next surgery for awhile? Also, of course, there was the sad, sad tale of Swan Lake to consider.

Poor dear old Swan is no longer with us. She departed this mortal coil a few months ago, partially due to the pain of a dislocated (uncentred) vagina.

How, one might wonder, could such a thing be? Well, after Swan bought herself the biggest pair of boobs this side of Texas, she went on to the next stage. But, after one has this particular surgery, one must dilate the vagina daily with various sizes of dildos in order to maintain the opening.

Poor Swan! She neglected this part of the post-op procedure and the new orifice sort of wandered off, in search of something hard. Unable to find a suitably sized dildo, it lodged itself next to the only hard thing in the surrounding area.

That’s right my dears, rumour has it Swan Lake’s personal pita pocket migrated to somewhere around the hip region! Needless to say, this occasionally made me stop and think–and worry!

As it turned out, I had nothing to fret over. All went fairly smoothly with my transformation and none of my new parts decided to go strolling about my body.

Still, it is not an easy undertaking to change gender, not for the faint of heart or the weak of dildo.

I’m dying to share all the details with you the next time we get together and chat like this. For now I must be off to join some old friends and drink a toast to old Swan Lake, mistress of the wandering vagina!