What to expect when you’re vasecting.

As the big day for my bloomers looms, I’d say it’s good practice to know what the future holds for one’s cajones. After all, when it comes to my berries, I’m not really a big fan of the word, “Surprise!” Nor “oops,” nor “uh-oh” nor “say, what’s that bumpy thing?” for that matter.

So, the plan is to have a plan. Luckily for me, I have a wonderful wife who is eager to help.

IMG_4644Pink? Really?

There are a number of things that I know are going to happen to me on V-Day. Some of these things I can control, and some of these things will be in the hands of my doctor. Literally. And I mean literally in the literal sense – not in that figuratively literal way.

1. I will get an injection in my ball bag.
2. I will get an incision in my ball bag.
3. I will get an injection in the vicinity of my left gonad.
4. I will get an injection in the vicinity of my right gonad.
5. There will be scissors.
6. There will be clamps.
7. There will be stitches.
8. There will be soreness.
9. There will be swelling.
10. There will be peas for dinner.

Let’s start with steps 1-2. Injection and Incision. These are things I would prefer go well, so I want to make it as easy on the wielder of the cutlery as possible. Hence, I shall arrive shorn.

britney-spears-shaved-headWhat could possible go wrong?

“Thank you for calling 98.7 WBALLS – who do I have on the line?” – “Kyle Colby Jones here. Long-time admirer, first-time shaver.” Okay, so I’ve never taken a razor to my poor, gentle genitalia before. And I’ve always used an electric razor for my face. Now, I’ve been told that would be an awful choice for a rather wrinkly and highly snaggable surface. So, a blade it is.

After my barber refused and told me to never come back again, I was forced to seek out the advice of my friends. And I got lots. I honestly had no idea how much of the world was walking around all smooth and shiny. Some basics: Start with a beard trimmer. (Turns out that kinda tickles, by the way.) Do it in the shower. Employ downward strokes.

I was also delightfully shocked to discover that some folks had even created names for their own personal man-sculpting methods. The Butterfly Technique. The Spread N’ Shed. The Bat-Wing. Nonetheless, I got it done. Accident free.

Steps 3-7. Snipping & Stitching. The only thing I can really do at this point is be absolutely still. No sudden movements. For this, I am hoping to be frozen with fear.

Steps 8-9. Pain & Swelling. Frozen peas, a soft chair and prescription pain killers will be at the ready. And the kids will be at the ready to fetch dear old dad any other provisions he may need. (Psst. It rhymes with beer.)

Step 10. Dinner. I might also try mashing some potatoes.

Alright. I’m set. Everything should be okay. As long as the good doctor remembers to trim his nails.

And if he doesn’t, then he’s invited to dinner.

Who am I kidding?

While we’re waiting for my appointment with Dr. Featherhands, let’s dive a bit deeper into some of my reasoning for getting a vasectomy in the first place. I mean, it’s not like I just have a hankerin’ for pain in my patriarchal pouch.

First of all – I’ve got two kids already – one boy, one girl. The wife and I have successfully reproduced ourselves to carry on our genes and namesakes. And ultimately, we’ve created a couple of slaves to take care of us, once we’re breaking our hips and peeing ourselves.

$$ Financials $$
Yep, kids are expensive. Hey look, a chart!

Screen Shot 2013-09-09 at 1.49.09 PMAnd then they go to college.

It takes a village to rob a bank and raise a child. You see, on top of that spooky graphic, there are a few more teensy weensy costs we would need to endure. A new house. Our rooms are already filled with love and people and toilets. A new car. The truck has maximized its load. And all that ridiculously priced baby equipment like car seats and strollers and cribs and Tickle-Me-Elmos and crap – we already gave all that away. We’d have to completely start over.


Health – Our Bodies Ourselves
At my wife’s current undisclosed beautifully sexy age, her body will not think pregnancy is very awesome anymore. It adds weight and strain. It steals nutrients and rearranges all the hormones. Here are some stats:

PRESENT PREGNANCY PITFALLS
1/3 chance of miscarriage
1/66 chance of chromosomal abnormality
1/106 chance of Down Syndrome
1/10 chance of birth weight lower than 5.5 lbs.
1/3 chance of kid growing up to be a neglected, pansy crybaby


Sanity – It’s Crucial

Oh yeah. And I’m not interested in anything like this:

family-largeThe vagina is not a clown car.

I do not want my life to be incessantly surrounded by loud, banging, clanging chaos. I don’t want there to always be a mess to clean up. I don’t want there to always be an argument to break up. Or a booboo to kiss. Or a snotty nose to wipe. Or a turdy ass to scrub. I want to get old with some peace and quiet and serenity. If I spent 20 more years yelling and griping it would become some sort of ingrained habit. Then I’d end up a grumpy old fart. And nobody likes that guy.

Now, as if health and sanity and money weren’t reason enough to make the snip – there’s another reason. There’s a much more yummy and sweaty and gropey reason. But that deserves its own post.

Hump Day should work.