If Only My Cooter Were Pretty, I'd Be Happy

Rachel has an interesting post about women willing to hack up their cooters to make them more appealing to men. Can we just skip to the especially gross part?

A 26-year-old Latin American woman who lives in New York's Queens had a hymen repair in 2001 and says it took almost two months for her to feel comfortable again. It took even longer for her to enjoy sex.

Rachel correctly predicts my response. If the father of your children is such a fucker that he wants you to have painful, needless surgery so that he can have the opportunity to hurt you when you have sex with him, you need to stab that jerk in the gut and take whatever therapy they offer you in prison. However, let me just say that, if you come from a culture that so highly values virginity that you must somehow maintain the integrity of fragile tissue clear into your twenties, I take a kind of perverse pleasure in knowing that women can come to the States, fuck around all they want, and go home with their "virginity" intact. A little fraud in order for you to do what you want under oppressive conditions is cool with me. But here's the thing. Here in America, reshaping your cooter doesn't have much, if anything, to do with subversive behavior. It has to do with women finding one more thing to change in an effort to avoid learning to just like themselves how they are and doctors finding another source of income. And it's extremely disturbing that, in a world where so many women have to hack up their cooters in order to get by, that we would, rather than revel in our hack-free cooters, mimic women who have no choice.