"Man with child."
What is not a chapter is an oddity.
Well, everyone’s children are like children. There are children with men with whom you get along. Calm, understanding. I came across a fiend from hell. Is it true. Fire on a stick. I wanted to say something different, but there was censorship. This monster (from the word miracle, only big) threw hysterics out of nowhere, cried, swore, fought in anger and shouted “nobody loves me, give birth to me back.”
Yes its true. Now she is God's dandelion. Coiffed, smart, beautiful. And I had to go through all the crap (sorry, it came out) of the world to get the candy.
– Buy me a skateboard.
– No.
– Buy it.
– No. You don’t make your bed, you don’t wash the dishes, you don’t do your homework, I won’t buy anything.
I went to put the T-shirt in the closet. The day passes.
– Buy me a skateboard, you promised.
– When?
– Aaaaaaah. You promised. You do not love me. – and so on.
But for all nine years she wanted not only this board. She constantly demanded something.
And you know, we did, but she learned to wash dishes, cook, do laundry, clean the house, including general cleaning, and got a job even before she graduated from school.
This is how we dealt with children's psychos. It was hard, but we managed.
Well, now, with less pathos and narcissism, I’ll tell you how it was.
Imagine a child whose parents spent every day sorting things out throughout his childhood, and then his father simply left. Mother's tears, periodic hysterics. The father gave free rein, the mother forbade. The child did not understand what model of behavior to take for himself.
Then a girl appeared who took all of her father’s attention, and I had to install a whole mountain of behavior patterns for different people and situations. Tears worked best, especially for grandmothers, because they influenced their parents.
“One was unyielding – Margot. Tears did not stop her. She was just communicating. Strange.
And everything would be fine if her father did not take her side in disagreements. I want to go to the water park, she says “no”, my father says “no”. I want a Coca-Cola, she refuses, and so does my father.
And everything is explained logically, but that’s what I want. Margot says, vacuum the apartment, but I don’t want to, my father is right there. My father doesn't love me, and Margot is a strange creature. Why is she in our lives?
This is roughly what the child thought, and from this position I had to influence and raise someone else’s child.
What happened.
First I found out about his first love. This is a slightly different story, but fits well into this story.
While still in Petrozavodsk, when we first plunged into intimate chaos, lighting a cigarette after this embarrassment, we touched on a very deep topic.
– I have to confess something to you.
– Yes.
– Don't be so tense. I just don't want to keep anything secret from you.
– Fine.
– I saw my former love in Krasnodar. Drank. And once again he confessed his love to her. But she's married. And I lost her a long time ago, even before marriage. But this time we sat on a bench near the house and discussed everything once and for all. We have a happy ending with her. There will be nothing more. No tears, snotty speeches, torment or memories. We ended everything on a happy note. It's a great ending when she's married and I found a good girl. Our paths diverge completely and irrevocably.
– You don't love her anymore?
– No. We have a happy ending. I decided.
Like a stone from the soul. Then he told me how throughout his married life with the mother of his child, he loved his school friend. They even saw each other, and every time he got drunk, the marriage was falling apart at the seams precisely because of this girl.
Why is this story here? Here's why.
Many stepmothers have conflicts with poor children of previous marriages because they are reminded of their husband’s past. About how he loved the mother of this child. There, jealousy of the child himself is not far away.
I found out a piquant detail for myself, which I clung to like a life preserver, because before I was very jealous, skillfully hid it, but inside I was all shrinking into a hedgehog.
No matter how much Katerina reminded me of my lover’s ex-wife, I did not feel the least bit of jealousy. Of course, there was something between them, and perhaps it was called love, but you cannot envy this woman, because his heart did not belong to her completely. I wouldn't want to be in such a situation.
His ex-wife has now become an integral part of our life together, she constantly inquires about our daughter, previously asked to influence her daughter, pay for the club, help with medications, pick her up for the summer, and so on. But knowing that she poses no threat to our marriage still warms my soul.
Snezhana, his school love, is so decent and is so far away that she almost ceased to exist for me. She doesn’t call, doesn’t write, doesn’t catch my eye, doesn’t remind me of herself in any way, so I’m calm like a boat in a quiet harbor.
You know, at first I couldn’t understand what to do: do I want to give birth to my own child in order to completely put an end to our love, to confirm it and show everyone: “Look, I am full-fledged.” Or I still wanted to live for myself, in case he also leaves me with the child.
And he could, we even discussed it.
– If you behave the same way, then I will leave you too. And the child is not a hindrance.
– But what about debt, because the child is common.
– I am not a victim to endure a vixen wife just for the sake of some duty. Money – yes, help – yes, but physically nearby – no.
And it sobered me up. Children should not be used as a way to keep a man. Give birth, so much for yourself. But I didn’t want it for myself.
My beloved also shared his secret dream – “to show the child an example of healthy relationships.” It was about the relationship with me and Katerina. I was offended that they wanted to use me to make another person happy, even a child.
I didn’t want to make anyone happy, to show someone an example of a happy relationship and love.
I wanted to be happy myself.
Who understands me? Hands up. Higher so I can see. Thank you, my dears. I'm so touched. Thank you. Lower it, sit down. Low bow to you.
Okay, let's be honest, we're all fucking selfish. We don't care about others if we ourselves have cats scratching our souls. Right?
Or are we able to give love to the whole world by sacrificing ourselves?
Anyway. Then I really felt bad. I had to break myself so as not to show my bitchy essence. I was in a strange city, far from my family, there were no friends, the new ones were all through Vladislav, that is, on his side. They looked at me under a magnifying glass, examining every facial detail, trying to understand whether there was a monster hiding behind that modest smile.
I kept myself under control for a very long time, only occasionally revealing pearls, such as a very quiet domestic quarrel.
I only became a little more confident in myself when we moved to St. Petersburg.
In Krasnodar, I was a girl living in the support of an adult man, raising a capricious girl who came occasionally. Can you imagine?
Damn your leg!
I was under the magnifying glass of his parents and relatives, of him, his colleagues and friends. Damn, I was watched like a wolf in a herd of sheep. Like, when will she show her true colors. When she loses her temper with the child, has a row with Vladislav, leaves and never returns.
It seems to me that they not only expected it, but even wanted it.
But it was not there. I'm a tough nut to crack. (wink juicy)
Now I even remember how I was so carried away that we looked with arrogance at other couples, where the wife shuts up her husband, interrupts in general company, shows character, chats incessantly, and the husband sits in the corner smiling and thinks one of two things:
“Well, well, you are the queen here, you humiliate me here, and then I will go to Nastya (here you can put any other name of your mistress), so she will love and respect me, listen and support me.”
Or.
“She’s right, I’m so cheerful and lively, but I just don’t know how to communicate with people, I don’t like all this noise. Besides, I say all sorts of nonsense, I can’t carry on a conversation.”
Can you imagine?
How often have you seen such a pitiful creature as in the second example? Well, we saw it, okay, but not often.
More often the first option, we just think that we don’t know his thoughts. And they are like that, I’ll tell you. If a woman does not allow a man to speak out, whether in private or in society, then this is the end. No sane person would tolerate such a partner. For what?
I don't condone cheating. It makes more sense to stop her in such a situation. Directly, courageously, honestly, tell your lady that she has gone too far, and that if this happens again, he will leave.
And then keep your promise.
Oh, this is very sobering for a woman. I've been through it. I'll tell you later.
But at that moment, I supported my husband one hundred percent: he spoke, I agreed, sat quietly, laughed at his jokes loudly, sometimes through force (well, he didn’t always joke funny). But she sincerely loved, so everything worked out naturally.
The other couples amused us for a long time, and we saw them as a huge problem. We have become kind of snobs about family happiness. Nobody could figure us out. The husband is the head, the wife is the wise assistant. He is a teacher, she is always on hand, studying and completing tasks and assignments.
“Rude!” – you say.
Naturally. But every woman needs this experience. If a woman never meets a strong man in her entire life who will be frank with her, then she risks remaining a narcissistic idiot, with only mama’s boys hovering around her.
Girls, every time I speak rudely about us, don’t think, this is not for the sake of a nice word, I really think we are like that. Did you think there would be another apology? (Smile).
Okay, we are all beautiful and we have something to prove to men. But what forces us to prove something to them is our lack of self-confidence. If we were more self-sufficient, we wouldn’t have to constantly fight. We could become wiser and play in a common sandbox.
Imagine you are five years old and you go out into the yard to play. Only boys are sitting on the site, they have already built an incredible structure there, an entire city, a railway, they are playing, enthusiastically intercepting enemy forces with partisan detachments. They are having fun.
And here you are? What you are doing?
You may think: “If I don’t go, they’ll drive me away.”
You can also approach them and destroy everything and start building your own doll house. Then you'll probably get beaten if mom isn't around.
You can also sit nearby and admire. Say out loud how much you like what they did. Oh, boys love it just like girls. A minute or two and you will be called to play. They will teach you, tell you what, where. You will become their friend, and then the most interesting interlocutor, friend.
Do you see? If it were a group of girls, would you also choose from three options? Would one hundred percent have acted as in the third? Is not a fact. This is just a society, male or female, it doesn’t matter. And you may think that men are very different from women, they are not.
Yes, there will always be an allowance for sexual desire. If you come to an engineering company in a dress with a low neckline, tight or tight, then perhaps they will give you a helmet without your praises, but they will not allow you to destroy the building. They will fight to the last, as if everyone were of the same sex.
People try to manipulate their sexuality in order to win where a callous cracker would be refused, but I don’t like to do that. There is a great alternative – communication, admiration, understanding. It is this that is often perceived as charm and is what people like so much.
So I survived a whole year in a foreign city in the first serious relationship of my life. I have set and continue to set an example for Ksyusha as a good wife. And in recent months I have been setting an example of a good woman. She is changing, not quite like me (after all, there are others to look up to), but she has grown into a good girl.
Do you know why I separate these concepts?
Oh well, then I won’t stop.
What? I can not hear. Explain?
A good wife and a good woman are not always the same thing.
And the definition of goodness is very vague. In general, if we focus on the two sides of the golden rule, known in every corner of the world in different philosophies, then goodness is not doing to others what you would not want to do to yourself, and doing to others what you would like to do to yourself. I didn't say that. This is great human wisdom.
So a woman is a person, just like a man. And as a person, she desires success, attention, love, recognition of her merits, movement forward, communication, happiness.
The wife wants the same thing, but to a different degree or something different altogether. Love, care, communication, happiness, attention. Achieving victories, recognizing her merits, moving forward is often relegated to the background so that the spouse can achieve this.
Otherwise, the couple breaks up. Only very strong guys can survive this fight.
Lately, every time I consolidate my status as a good wife, I am learning and becoming a good woman.
Do you understand? I want to achieve my personal goals. Star in a wonderful Hollywood movie, fly into space, publish a book that will help millions of women.
"Farewell University"
So, who dropped out of school at least once in their life? Thank you. And who because of the man? Thank you. Put your hand down before strong women throw tomatoes at you.
Look, I don't think this is a mistake. This decision was conscious.
Does anyone regret those who did this?
I think that you, like me, have already justified this action three hundred times.
One day my handsome and smart man told me:
– Come with me to live in Krasnodar
And I told him:
– I can not. I have school, work, friends, and family nearby.
– I can't live here. My home is there. There's nothing keeping me here anymore.
– And I?
– So I want to take you there.
– But I'm not a thing.
– Of course, you are not a thing. Let's mutually decide. If you look at all the pros and cons, pushing the personal aside. It's warm, sunny, and fruit grows there. It's cold, gray and damp here. There is a big city there, opportunities and the same university. You don’t need to work anymore, I will support us. Let's find common friends.
I thought about it. Well, he’s telling the truth.
– OK. But first I need to talk to the dean, my parents, my friends.
– This is all secondary. Your decision first.
– What if it is negative?
– Then we will part.
– Hard.
– How else. I have already decided where I want to live. I even decided who I wanted to live with there. But you have the right to refuse, the choice is yours.
Bastard. No, my love, if you are reading these lines, I’m sorry. But still a bastard. Of course, I made a choice in favor of Krasnodar, and I don’t regret it, but a better solution could have been found.
No, I’m sad not because of my studies, but because now we still live in St. Petersburg, and we could have moved here right away. But that stage was necessary, because Vladislav was wildly homesick for his daughter. And a whole year of regular communication got him drunk for several years to come.
I told my sister first, hoping to gain support from my mother. It's either this way or not at all. If you warn her earlier, then when mom starts to panic, the sister is already ready with an artillery of arguments.
I remember this conversation.
– What? Is this really love?
– Yes. I love him very much.
– OK.
I don’t even remember the conversation with my mother. Apparently everything went smoothly. She was worried, of course, but I didn’t give up studying yet.
But my dad is a businessman, he came from afar.
– Isn’t there a war there in the Caucasus? There were hot spots there. Krasnodar is close to Chechnya. Isn't that where you got it from?
It was so funny but cute. Vladislav and I laughed later when I found out that he was born in Alma-Ata, and his parents were from Sakhalin.
I packed my things, gave the furniture to a friend, and went.
My classmates didn’t want to let me go and were immediately offended, especially Gleb. But then I still believed that I would be transferred to Krasnodar.
Since no one cares about desperate lovers, the dean of the new university refused to accept me for the same course:
– So what, did you move after your husband? The mark sheet is good, yes. But there are no places. Either you pay for your course, or on a budget, but again for the fourth.
– I can't pay. I'm on a budget. (Here, of course, I was cunning, Vladislav offered help, I did not want to accept). Take me to the fifth year.
– I can not. Not my whim. There are no seats.
This stubborn sheep, may he hear my words, did not agree, even though I knocked on the threshold of the institute every day for a month.
And then I gave up, changed my mind and quit.
In addition, I then read an incredible book that illuminated my mind, clouded by medicine, and decided not to be a doctor quite consciously.
This is not Vladislav's decision, girls. It was I who drove myself into circumstances that, like a syringe, pushed me to new horizons.
Not once in all these years have I regretted not having a medical degree, just as I don’t regret seven years of education. This knowledge helps me in life, but does not keep me within limits, which is great.
If the situation had been the same with the Faculty of Law or Economics, the solution would have been the same; I found my way in a different way.
Now I am already an experienced leader, online coach, writer, actress, and I have only those areas of activity ahead of me that I want to do.
Do you know how I got into medicine in the first place? Coin. Yes, that's right, a coin.
I dreamed of enrolling in theater, but the eleventh grade was only in my seventeenth year, so my parents said that they would not let me go to St. Petersburg until I came of age. I was indignant, but agreed.
I wanted to go somewhere where I could while away a couple of years and not waste my time. You know, serve your sentence with benefit.
After a lot of research, I eliminated almost everything except training to become a midwife and a lawyer. Both here and there for three years, it was never less. For a long time, I hoped to get a minimum education, appease my elderly parents, and then conquer the world.
That year, testing was just introduced, thanks to which it was possible not to take entrance exams. And voila, thanks to my school scores, I passed, was admitted, and were ready to be accepted into both educational institutions.
Well, at that time I did not yet understand the value and importance of the knowledge that I would receive, so I did not seriously approach the issue of choice.
The coin decided for me.
“Oh, medical. Great. So, I’ll study here.”
How did the medical help (as I realized later) help me. Knowledge of the anatomy of the genital organs. Knowing where the clitoris is and what it can do. Complete knowledge of the entire reproductive system of women and men. Menstrual cycle. Which hormones affect what? Diseases of the genitourinary system, what are the symptoms, how to treat, diagnose and how to prevent.
Pelvic floor muscles: what they can strengthen and how. Why are there painful periods? Why is sex painful? How to examine your genitals for size and prolapse. How to assess muscle tone.
How to check your breasts for tumors. What affects its elasticity?
How to cope with PMS.
Contraception and everything about it. And so on.
Three years of training to become a midwife were some of the coolest, I learned about myself as a woman. Then I clearly decided that I was in no hurry to get pregnant and give birth, although before that I had already thought about having children, for example, at twenty-five.
There in college, for the first time in the light of day, I examined and touched the penis, although it was a dummy, which needed a catheter, but I had to go through a lot of embarrassment.
He's such a nasty little guy with no erection. How do you insert a tube into an erect penis? No way. Therefore, anatomists decided to make a dummy closer to reality. Well, at least they would have made it a bigger size to please the students. They also added these stupid hairs to make it look more natural.
The second time I had to come into contact with the penis (that’s the correct way to say it in medical terms) was in an emergency hospital. We were taken through the wards and forced to do a full examination of the patients in all hard-to-reach places, including. I put on gloves, and my partner and I began to study the homeless man.
Yes, an alcoholic from the street. Washed, but still with the most terrible aroma, because no one will cure his teeth under insurance. We handled him delicately. And we had almost finished studying the spots on the skin when the professor came in:
– What are you talking about here?
– We're done.
– Not true. Undress him. And examine all PARTS of his body.
He emphasized the word “parts” in such a way as not to confuse us even more by pronouncing “penis” to the entire men’s ward.
The patient took off his family books and I once again looked pitifully at the elderly teacher.
– Forward! – he commanded.
I carefully took its wrinkled pod and lifted it up. And there… On his scrotum…
There was nothing. I took another look. Then my partner took a closer look. Nothing.
We looked questioningly at the professor. And he just threw up his hands?
– We haven’t found it now, but next time you will.
Of course, later he explained what discovery he was talking about, because my classmates found a tick right there. And only at that moment my shame passed.
And before that, I thought I was filming a porn nightmare, “Games with a Bum.”
Or no, better “Find the treasure in the scrotum of a homeless man.”
Great years. Unforgettable. I’m still silent about completely “non-sexual” activities: for example, an autopsy after a stroke, or surgery for hemorrhoids.
Wonderful time.
Okay, just kidding. Seventy percent of the years are wasted. I consider thirty percent of the squeeze useful, as I already said, but it could have taken two years in total, and not seven damn (I’m repeating myself, sorry) years.
I never entered the theater school. Do I regret it? Yes. Do I blame my parents? No. I'm correcting mistakes. I'm studying now. I'm heading for a blockbuster.
So ladies. In this chapter I intend to enlighten you. Well, it’s not for nothing that I absorbed this wisdom so much. Let me share with you the most intimate secrets of the human body.
Pour some tea, it will be exciting.
Now I will immerse you in the world of your vagina:
Vagina is the Latin name for the vagina. It is often confused with the vulva – the external genitalia of a woman. Apparently, because both words are feminine, have three syllables, and begin with “B.”
But let's figure it out. You can remember this: “where the soft sign is, there is the clitoris,” you won’t be confused anymore.
Of course, I had a case when a sexual partner put his pepper in the wrong place for his wife, but he didn’t get it wrong, it was petting. He came from behind and penetrated between the labia, rested on the clitoris, and with her hand she created the illusion of a canal.
In her words, an incredible feeling.
Well, we've sorted out the concepts. Now let's look at what is in the vagina and not in the vulva, and vice versa.
The female reproductive apparatus is not very different from the male. Just one more organ.
Well look:
Penis – clitoris (part of the vulva)
Scrotum – labia (part of the vulva)
Prostate – Uterus.
Testicles – ovaries
I spread my hands – Vagina.
The vagina is needed for childbirth, just like the uterus, right. Through it, the sperm enters the uterus, and a new person comes out.
Then how does a woman have an orgasm? It's simple. Just like a man – with his penis.
Yes, our clitoris is small on the outside, but inside its legs reach the entrance to the vagina, which is why many people think that they have a vaginal orgasm.
Okay, now everything has fallen into place, it’s very clear and even easier to live. However…
More than eighty percent of women do not orgasm during sex, or at all. More on this later, in another chapter.
Let's consider our vagina.
This is a hollow, but with closed walls, tube that opens only during penetration of the penis, speculum, child, or dildo. To prevent bacteria from penetrating into the internal environment of the body through the cervix, it is kept closed.
If you want to examine it, wash your hands thoroughly, trim your nails, or wear a sterile glove. This is the right thing to do, you need to get to know yourself, but don’t forget about hygiene.
Many of you are now wincing or experiencing internal disgust. “A finger in a place where everything is so smooth, slippery, in folds? God forbid I get hurt."
Think correctly, but don’t confuse your feelings.
The fear of injury can be easily removed with the help of a thin latex glove. Dislike for your genitals is another thing. Realize that the body you have is yours. It cannot be replaced with someone else’s, it cannot be exchanged with someone. What you have now cannot be changed, start loving your possessions.
Wanted a penis, but got a vagina? Well, I'll tell you, no one gave you anything. They took it themselves. Therefore, please be happy with your choice.
I'm not talking about God or my parents. I mean that everything in our lives, including metaphysical processes that concern us, are solely the result of our decision. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a conscious decision or one that we have forgotten about and deny, it’s still our decision. Proven.
OK. So you put on a sterile glove and carefully, without sudden movements, begin to examine yourself. You should not think that discomfort caused by shyness and pain are equivalent things. Only stop testing if there is real pain. If there is no pain, lie in bed, turn on music that relaxes you, and slowly become friends with a part of your body. She's yours. You are her mistress.
The clitoris is another organ that also belongs to you. This is the part of the vulva, the stimulation of which causes mind-blowing pleasure. Do you think that since he is a source of pleasure, he controls you?
No, you definitely think so.
Not out loud, but it seems to you that he is in command. Like a man's penis.
You know, such a small dude, a rudiment of a penis, a kind of masculinity in us.
They say we didn’t want it, but they gave it to us.
So a woman should only receive seminal fluid with the help of a hollow tube on the way to the uterus, then bear an heir to her husband, and finally give birth. And then suddenly it turns out that she also has a penis. And that she can cum no worse than a man.
Well, no, what are you talking about, these are all the machinations of the devil. Certainly Eve and the early women of the Bible did not have such a thing. It was then that someone’s labia mutated and their skin grew on top of the opening of the urethra.
Just an evolutionary error, a satanic creation, a genetic mutation of alien forces.
Brad, really?
A woman is not a reproductive robot. This is a man. The human body of both sexes experiences orgasm.
The clitoris is not a rudiment of the penis; in my opinion, it is a real penis that does not need to be inserted into anyone, and looks more aesthetically pleasing than a man’s.
There is no need to be ashamed of him. Take a mirror and take a good look at this beauty. This thing is yours. It was not slipped to you by accident. You chose it yourself.
Do you know how it could be?
You are so sexless, wandering around somewhere in space, I don’t know, in the clouds, in the hardware market.
– Here are some. Brown, pink, white, curved, S, M, L, XL
– Oh! What's so cute about this?
– And this is the clitoris, small, but the effect is the same.
– How much it costs?
– Just a vagina, a uterus and painful childbirth to boot.
– Hm. Is it possible without them?
– Only if you choose those “Georgians.”
– I don’t want “Georgians”, they are funny. Let's make it more expensive.
That's about it. Well, I'm lost here. Someone could have had such a conversation.
– …Only if you choose those “Georgians”.
– Come on, they're cheaper. I will tell everyone that this is the latest fashion, this thing is the coolest.
Men, sorry, this is a book for women, your insults will not be accepted.
Girls, stop considering yourself a scum of evolution or a devilish creature. Your penis is no worse than a man's. He is just as sensitive, he can erect and cum no less often than a man.
And don't look at the fact that there is no sperm, it is needed as part of the process of childbirth, just like your uterus.
For pleasure you need two penises and their stimulation, that’s all.
Ideally, when inserting the penis, the clitoris is excited by the friction of its legs at the entrance to the vagina.
But this doesn’t happen for everyone, and you have to stimulate the hood itself with your fingers and tongue so that both partners get what they want.
Therefore, perceive your clitoris as a dignity no worse and no less than that of the stronger half of humanity. I guarantee you, your self-confidence will increase exponentially.
Menstrual cycle and hormones.
This is another part that you and I don't fully understand.
Let's go in order.
A cycle is something closed, going in a circle.
In the dictionary, this is a set of any phenomena, processes, or works that complete a complete circle of development over a period of time. (Greek kyklos, lit. wheel)
That is, between bleeding there is something else that happens in the body and we do not see it. Otherwise, our periods could be called recurring bleeding.
But inside the body preparations for conception are taking place. And every month it is the same.