My Taboo Disease

I Can't Tell

          Growing up, I was raised Catholic from birth until about age thirteen. We weren't crazy hard core Catholics, my parents were practical. They taught me about abstinence but also about contraception (which is a big no-no in the Catholic Church). My mother was open about taking the birth control pill because she only wanted three kids, and taught me all about it and alternative birth control options. She taught me about my anatomy and answered any questions I had. They chose a school that taught safe sex instead of abstinence only programs, and my parents had an open door policy; I could tell them anything.
          Basically, they had set me up for the best possible situation possible for this discovery; yet I still convinced myself not to talk to them.
          When I was fifteen a sophomore in high school, I started dating my first boyfriend. We'll call him Mike for privacy purposes. I was still of course, very aware of my condition, yet I got it in my head that somehow maybe Mike could fix it! Maybe all I needed was to have sex to break this "wall" and it would all go away. Turns out that's actually a common idea between women with this condition, sadly it's just not that easy.
            The first time we attempted sex, it was a total failure. We chalked it up to just being virgins and we needed to try again; so we did. Each try was excruciating, he could also feel the wall and was nowhere near penetrating it. The pain was indescribable, and I often ended the attempt crying uncontrollably.
              "Why don't you go to a doctor?" He persisted.
               "I can't-" I would always respond, "I don't want my mom to know!!"
                "Why not?"
                 "Because she doesn't think I should be having sex!"
                  Mike was always frustrated when we got to this point-"but she got you on birth control when you told her you wanted to have sex! She would want to know!"
               Somewhere deep down, I think I knew he was right. Somewhere down the line, I had it in my head that if I told her she would say something like "well you shouldn't be having sex anyways" and brush it aside. Of course, given the more progressive ways of my parent's it was ridiculous to think that they would react this way, but I truly believed it.
                  I was also afraid of what a doctor might find, if I'm being totally honest. I didn't have a damn clue what it could be, but of course my mind jumped to the worst of conclusions, no thanks to tv.
                 I was a huge fan of the Tyra Banks show during high school, I watched faithfully every day when I got home from school. My breaking point of insanity occurred one day while watching her episodes: it was about women who had problems with sex.
                 Some of the women had a condition called vaginismus. This condition is quite common among women around the world, where the pelvic floor muscles contract to make it impossible for women to be penetrated or at least make sex very painful. Some women are born with it, many suffer because of past sexual trauma.
             Another woman on the show however, had two vaginas. She had a septum that went right down the middle and each side split off into its own anatomy. Of course, believing that I could have the worst possible situation, I convinced my self I absolutely had two vaginas. I had two vaginas!! Needless to say, I freaked. Tears spilled out of my eyes and I called my boyfriend in a total panic.
               "I saw this woman on the Tyra Banks show and she has two vaginas and it makes sex hard for her and I think that's what I have!! I'm going to need surgery!" I cried to him, totally unable to control myself.
              "I'm sure you don't have two vaginas" Mike said reassuringly, "just go see a doctor!"
But I was already taking a mirror out and self diagnosing.
                "It's there!" I screamed, "it's there, I see the septum! Oh god there it is, yup two vaginas!"
               After a few minutes of reassurance, he finally convinced me that maybe what I was seeing wasn't a septum, maybe I wasn't looking at anything at all. After we hung up, I fell into bed (at 4p.m) and cried myself to sleep.