WARNING: The following words are not suitable for a very young age. Parental guidance is HIGHLY recommended.
I was watching a local sitcom on television about two weeks ago (or is it three?) that tackled about male circumcision. I think it was Pepito Manaloto and it was so damn good! It brought back a lot of memories. Circumcision? Flashback begins…
It was a lazy April afternoon. I was in my room when my mom told me that I’ll be having my circumcision the next day. Surprised, shocked, dumbfounded, I went and my heart made a plunge in cold waters when she told me the bad news. What the, I thought. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate the idea of being circumcised. Pero gano’n na lang yun, one day notice. Agad agad? But as the good boy that I was, I kept myself from rebutting.
THE NEXT DAY I woke up early, about 8 in the morning. Of course, I need to do some preparations too. (TIP: At least 30 minutes before the “operation”, take a shower and scrub your privates in respect to the nurse. You don’t want to smell onion, don’t you?) After lunch, a woman in her early 50s I guess, walked in our house. It must be her, I thought. She’s very different from what I had in my dirty, little mind but who cares?
As soon as the nurse led me to the sofa, my two week-ordeals already began. I was so nervous. Everything felt like my first trip to the dentist, only this time, I was naked, oh yes, naked from the waist down. Mind you, I had no time to prepare myself mentally. And much to my dismay, the “operation” was done in the sofa… in the living room. Imagine that? Add to that the fact that a total stranger was touching my privates. Whatever remaining naughty ideas I had in mind instantly vanished as soon as I saw the instruments to be use – blade, scissor, needles and MORE blades. I almost fainted, well, that’s a bit of exaggeration. But I was literally shaaaaakinnnng. I am not sure but I think I called out for my mom. And that was so gay. I even asked myself for practically innumerable times just to keep my sanity intact: Is this for real or am I being punk’d? My shrieks were so loud I could hear my sisters snickering. Damn!
After the “operation”, I was drained and my energy level was on its lowest. And when I looked down, I saw at least 300 stitches. No, I’m just kidding. But honestly, I didn’t even bother myself to look at it. I don’t want to see how bad it became. The next two weeks was probably the worst two weeks of my entire life. I need to endure the mind-boggling pain from the stitches. I need to wash it at least three times a day to keep it bacteria-free. Then, dress it after with a piece of cloth with a hole in the middle. (For the girls: Just imagine it, okay.) And I need to wear loose shorts all day long. It was hell with a capital H. Thank God I surpassed it unscathed and with sanity intact.
So why do teenage boys (and not-so teenage boys) subject themselves to this kind of physical and mental torture? First, vanity. For some guys, being “circumcised” makes them look more macho. And I think girls prefer “circumcised” men. I conducted a survey just now and asked three of my girl friends in Facebook (note: my girlfriend not included) about these “likability factor” and all the three of them went with “circumcised” men. Well, not a surprise. No pun intended.
Then second, hygiene. Enough said.
Well anyway, I still ruminate that “uncircumcised” men should not be declare as PLASTICS (I won’t tell why, figure it out yourself). That’s bigotry. It’s their choice.
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