» Doctors, Nurses, Dentists and Hospitals

The unfortunate tale of the demise of my foreskin
When I was young, my penis seemed perfectly normal, and was looking forward to a long and happy life away from sharp objects. Alas, this was not to be.

I remember vividly the first time I realised that something was amiss. I was in the living room, probably aged 6 or so, and something didn't feel right. Being an innocent and somewhat uninhibited child, I took the little feller out to have a look, and suddenly felt the unstoppable need to go. Now pissing on the floor wouldn't been bad enough, but to my horror, a crimson jet of blood came spurting out. I still remember the warm feeling of it on my hands. Ugh.

Following an embarrassing explanation to my mum, I was trotted off to the doctor. I don't remember if I ever found out why the bleeding had occurred, but the long story cut short is that my foreskin was 'too tight'. I'd never been able to retract my foreskin, but being a child, and not having been exposed to other men's erect dongs, I wasn't aware that this should be the case. I was offered two choices by the doctor, the foreskin could either be 'stretched', or I could go the whole way and have it lopped off. Having become rather attached to my penis over my life so far, I opted for the first choice.

Now, this was in the 90s, and I was covered by health insurance that my dad got with his job (it was an American company, so that sort of thing wasn't so unusual), and so I was duly seen by Mr S, a willy consultant, and soon enough D-day arrived. I don't really remember much about before the operation, other than than the 'magic cream' that was applied to numb my hand for the anesthetic, and being put under.

When I came to, I was very drowsy, due to a combination of the anesthetic and painkillers. I needed a wee, and I remember having difficulty walking to the toilet due to the drug-induced daze. I was left by to do my business, but instead of sweet relief and a jet of urine, I was greeted by burning agony and a jet of blood. Imagine needing to pee more than anything, and trying to stop mid-stream. That's bad enough by itself. Now imagine having to choose between a bursting need to piss or having your cock on fire. It was one of the most upsetting and traumatising experiences of my life. It turned out that instead of just 'stretching' my foreskin, the surgeon had managed to tear something, and no one had thought to mention this to my mum so I could find out in a gentler way.

To top this all off, the operation made fuck-all difference.

Unfortunately for my todger, this wasn't his last brush with a man and a scalpel...

By the age of 9 it had become apparent that at some point I'd need to resolve the... tightness issue. It caused rather eratic variations in stream-direction whilst pissing, and often the divergence of my kidney-juice into two streams. Furthermore, I was old enough to understand that when I was older I could get infections that would be most unpleasant (although I didn't know that these would likely be due to festering jizz build-up and STIs), and so I bit the bullet and went to my GP again. The NHS these days don't like to do circumcisions unless it really is a last resort, and although I'd been mercifully free from blood-pissage since the fateful day of 'the stretch', the failure of this attempt led my GP to refer me for the chop.

This time, the operation was in an NHS hospital. I was nervous, and it was strange knowing that by that evening my willy would never be the same again. The wait for my 'turn' dragged on for what seemed like forever, and then the nurse came and told me it was almost time. Going for a wee was like the last meal of a condemned man. It was the last time I'd ever see my penis in one piece, and I felt genuinely upset as I said my last goodbye to my faithful companion.

Fortunately, this time everything went smoothly, and other than a week or so of the most horrendous itching ever, and the ring of barbed-wire-like stitches that encircled my newly exposed helmet.

And from that day on me and my todger lived happily ever after. (I may or may not think of a better way to end this story in the morning, it is late)
(Sun 14th Mar 2010, 1:30, More)

» Sexism

I'm sure this has come up already but...
Women and their damn weight.

Countless times I've heard obviously overweight women complaining about how "I'm SOOOOOOOOO fat!!!" Only for their friend to respond that " of COURSE you're not!". Why are women incapable of responding to this with some constructive advice, instead of simply ignoring the elephant in the room? I once absent-mindedly tried to go along with everyone else, but apparently "you're not that fat" was still wrong.

Of course it would be insensitive to go and point out that someone's overweight, but if they're going to bring it up themselves then they should get a response along the lines of try exercising more regularly and eating less, or some similar supportive/constructive advice, not just a lie that encourages them to avoid adressing their issues. If you don't want people to mention something you're insecure about then start by not mentioning it yourself.

Would a man get the same response? Of course not. And fine, there is less pressure on men to be thin, but then again, if some bloke came out with "my cock is just too small", I don't imagine he'd get anyone saying "not it's not, it's HUGE!".

Similarly with hair. An acquaintance was complaining that she didn't like her haircut, as she'd decided the fringe didn't suit her. Apparently 'don't worry, it'll grow out soon enough' wasn't the correct response, in her mind.

Whilst with more negative stereotypes there are many exceptions, and it is true that many women absolutely do not go fishing for compliments in this way, I've NEVER seen or heard of a woman not going along with the bullshit when someone else does.
(Sat 2nd Jan 2010, 18:04, More)

» Dumb things you've done

Back in my naive school days...
...I believed the words "admit it now and we won't mention it to anyone" from a teacher.

Short post = little willy
(Tue 1st Jan 2008, 21:46, More)

» Pubs

First!
Muahaha

Edit: FUCKSOCKS!
(Thu 5th Feb 2009, 20:57, More)

» This book changed my life

I'd have to say Of Mice and Men
It was the last book I've read properly (bar Harry Potter when it came out, and failing to finish LOTR ~hangs head in shame~). That was when I was doing GCSEs, and I really enjoyed the book, and didn't at all mind going over it, and writing about it (which I usually didn't like doing, I'm more sciency). Since then reading's slipped away from me. Sixth form brought more schoolwork to do plus a job at weekends, and the sudden ability to get served in pubs, and Uni's been more of the same. I really should get back into reading this summer..
(Sun 18th May 2008, 17:51, More)