Tag: story
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I Did Not Consent To Genital Mutilation
Austin Caudill has an important message for parents “I didn’t have a choice. A needless modification was made to my own body, and I was given no say in the matter.
As a child and adolescent, since my own penis had skin covering the glans, I thought that I was either partially circumcised or not circumcised at all. It took me just one look at adult content to begin researching, and through that research I quickly realized how wrong I was.
I did not consent to genital mutilation
I discovered that the skin covering my glans is not the result of an incomplete circumcision or the removal of too little skin, but rather because the practitioner had cut away too much skin. A tight penile shaft skin, combined with the body’s tendency to protect its parts, causes the penis to be pulled in and become covered by the scrotal skin. This condition is known as “buried penis.” Scrotal skin covers my glans most of the time, as if it was intentionally pulled up and held there.
I found out that the different skin tones on the shaft of my penis, one skin tone near the base and a distinctly different shade closer to the glans, is a direct result of the cutting. The dark line between them is a scar I share with many other mutilated men.
As my research progressed, I began to realize the brutality of the circumcision procedure; that my penis was probed, clamped, crushed, and ripped apart – just like every other circumcised boy was forced to endure. In my case, however, during this mutilation, one of the instruments was pushed into my urethral opening and punctured through the underside of my glans penis. This created a huge hole below the glans. This unnatural urethral opening is a medically induced hypospadias that should have never happened to me. It also completely destroyed the frenulum, another repercussion in a long list of risks and possible complications of circumcision.
Having a buried penis with hypospadias means that my urethral opening is itself buried; the mechanics of which means that I am forced to pee sitting down, always, or otherwise I end up urinating all over myself.
My penis has been irreparably mutilated through a forced childhood genital cutting that many people euphemistically call “circumcision.” – This is my experience, the reality that I must live with every day.
But I am a human rights activist and an intactivist for more reasons than just my own experiences. I work to bring awareness and save other children from circumcision because I have thoroughly researched the topic. I have seen presentations such as The Elephant in the Hospital , and I’ve commiserated with other victims, including The Bloodstained Men and their Friends (Facebook page ). I realize that this problem is bigger than just myself. I understand, first-hand, the trauma and fallout surrounding circumcision that most people refuse to acknowledge. When someone tells me they don’t care, or that I am a bully or a hypocrite for standing up for an innocent baby, it burns me to the core.
– Austin, in Cincinnati, Ohio.
#IamNotThankful
#IDidNotHaveAChoice
#MenDoComplain
#ididnotconsent
#metoo
#mentoo
#cutpumpkinsnotbabies
#makecuttingillegal
#cuttingismutilation
#notthefamilypenis
#thebabydeservesachoice
#leaveyourbabywhole
#wholeisbeautiful
#intactivism
#foreskinpride
#foreskinisbeautiful
#16functions
#yourwholebaby
#bloodstainedmen
#intaction
#doctorsopposingcircumcision
#citizensagainstritualviolence
Just my story from my mouth to your ears, hopefully no more babies will have to go through what I have. Austin x
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Daughter’s Vibtator-Funny Story
Daughter’s Vibrator
A mother was walking down the hall when she heard a humming sound coming from her daughter’s bedroom.
When she opened the door she found her daughter naked on the bed with a vibrator.
What are you doing?” she exclaimed.
The daughter replied, “I’m 35 and still living at home with my parents and this is the closest I’ll ever get to a husband.”
Later that week the father was in the kitchen and heard a humming sound coming from the basement.
When he went downstairs, he found his daughter naked on the sofa with her vibrator.
“What are you doing?” he exclaimed.
The daughter replied, “I’m 35 and still living at home with my parents and this is the closest I’ll ever get to a husband.”
A couple of days later the mother heard the humming sound again, this time in the living room.
In there, she found her husband watching the Super Bowl on television with the vibrator buzzing away beside him.
“What are you doing?” she exclaimed.
He replied…………”Watching the game with my son-in-law.”
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Fire And Poo- Funniest Parenting Fail Day
If anyone hasn’t got children and are planning on having any, below is 2 reasons why you absolutely should never give birth to anything
The other day I was making sausages mash veg and gravy for the kids. Baring in mind they only eat Richmond.
Maia comes in. Face like a bucket full of turds
Maia: I don’t like sausages
Me: yes you do they’re the ones you always have the only ones you eat.
Her; no they’re spicy I don’t like them
Me: * wtf you little tit you’ve had them every couple of weeks for 10 years. They’re fucking Richmond, they’re probably 99.9% offal flaccid looking things with absolutely no spice in them what so ever* they’re no spicy darling you really like them
Her: well I don’t like them now
Me: mixing gravy. What are you going to have with your mash then
Her: shrugs
Me*opens fridge, freezer and every cupboard like fucking entities have been in* what about nuggets? Turkey emojis? Fish fingers? Actual fish? Fish cakes? Sweet corn? Beans? Pie? Noodles?
Her: no no no no no
27 different meal options I gave her 20 fucking 7
Me:
Her:
Me: what the hell then??
Her:kebab??
Me; no Maia I’m not ordering you a kebab
Her storms off upstairs hollering she wants no dinner and I’m pretty sure if she had a door that worked she would have slammed it
Anyway. The baby’s in bed I’m hoovering and mopping like cinder fucking rella. Muttering obscenities under my breath whilst using the 360 spin mop that is utter shite and hurts my back.
Low and fucking behold there’s Maia on the kitchen side her head in the cupboard that was open for 20 minutes over and hour ago.
Me: what are you doing
Her; I’m having super noodles
Me: I offered them to you an hour ago. You’re going to have to wait until the floors dry and I’ll do it
Her: I’ll do it. I’ve read the packet I can do it
FUCK SAKE.
Me: ok then just make sure you read it properly and follow the instructions
Also me: sits down to write shopping list
I can smell this funny smell. Something not to dissimilar to when I burnt my cheek with molten plastic in the phone box down forest way when I was about 14. Don’t even ask
Fuck me sideways. Maia comes bursting into the room.
The microwaves on fire
For a fat bird I’m off that sofa and in the kitchen like a shot
There’s fucking flames in the microwave
Flames
I’m thinking shit Charlotte she’s boiled them dry. You’ll not get Tesco mum of the year award this year for the 21st year in a row
I open the door
Stand back
Get the baby out
Grab the inferno in a bowl with a wet tea towel and run for the front door
I’m like basil fawlty
Hopping up and down on the spot looking left and right thinking what the fuck am I supposed to do
I see the bin
It’s empty
Binmen came yesterday
Chuck it in there Charlotte and go get some water
I get to the kitchen look out the window and the fucking bins on fire
Wtf??? Why are there flames coming out of the bin
Maia: I put the guess who and low face boxes in the bin
Fuck
The bins on fire
Anyway I manage to extinguish it before it burns the neighbours fence down
Took a minute or 2 to recover then I said to Maia, did the water boil dry??
Her: water? What water? I didn’t know you needed to put water in it
There were no words. I clearly am not cut out to parent anything
Ok so today the baby has the shits
Sore arse and ball sack
In my infinite wisdom I think let him go nappy free fresh air will do it good
I go to get the washing in and put the rabbit away
I’m walking back in with an arm full of washing
I can’t really see the floor
I step in something squidgey
I put the washing on the stairs
There’s fucking shit everywhere
My foot prints
His foot prints
Hand prints
There’s shit fucking everywhere
I’m too scared to look
There he is sat on the sofa stretching his little todger a yard, butt naked and covered in his own shit
There’s shit on the sofa
There’s shit on the rug
There’s shit on his face
There’s shit on my feet
There’s shit in the hall way
I ran with him arms out stretched straight up the stairs to the bath
I’m nauseous
I’m crying
I’ve borrowed bleach off the neighbour
Seriously
Never give birth to anything
Full credit Charlotte Blake
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My Son Does Not Act Gay- Acting Gay Isn’t A Thing
My son does not act gay- acting gay isn’t a thing
My lovely little lad Johan is 6 years old and loves nothing more than dressing up in princess dresses especially his yellow Belle costume and his little mermaid tail.
Dylan loves to be pampered, having his toe nails painted and enjoys painting mine and his older sisters nails, he’s actually pretty good at it, he has a great eye for colours that go and has the patience to paint designs on our nails.
Dylan is a keen dancer and often wins competition especially his street dancing and solo performances, and yes he will wear sparkly outfits, leotards and glitter on his face.
His father has never been to any of his competitions and does not support his son.
His father says he does not wish to witness his son acting like a gay boy, he should be playing football or rugby. Why does dancing mean he is acting gay, what is gay? Gay is a sexual preference not a way of behaving, there are gay rugby and football players as well, and a lot of straight male dancers.
Dancing is a skill, a talent and takes a lot of hard work, so what if my son likes to dress up or have his nails painted etc this does not define his sexuality and there is no such thing as “acting gay” gay is not an act! Dylan is not at an age where he knows what his sexual preference is, but he is at an age to know what he enjoys doing, who knows he may one day be gay but may be he won’t, what he does for enjoyment now will not determine that.
emailed in by Sarah Oldrey of Cumbria
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Stabbed To Death After Fleeing Domestic Violence Relationship
On 27th December 2010 I arrived back from the Next Sale forgetting to buy my husband paracetamol for his headache on the way home. It caused him to lose his temper in-front of my two daughters & three step-daughters…by this point we had been together for ten years and it was a familiar scene…that day I left, like I had done so many times before, only when I arrived at my mums this time I called the police.
Two officers arrived and watched my husband frantically circle my mums flat in his car & they listened to the constant voicemails where he screamed “Why are the police there? Why are you talking to the fucking police? Think about what you’re doing”.
They then heard the voicemails change to him sounding calm and rational saying “Come on baby. It’s a row. Just come home. I love you”….
If it hadn’t have been for the patience and time those police officers gave me that day I wouldn’t have made that statement. I wouldn’t have been honest when I answered their Domestic abuse risk assessment and I wouldn’t have agreed to let them be present at my marital home as I cleared out my belongings.
And as my family and friends helped me clear out mine & my babies clothes I listened to him tell me he was sorry, in front of those Police officers. I listened to him tell me he would change this time and as he begged and his tears came I wondered if I was making a mistake – but those officers and that support network reminded me why I had made the choice I had.
Afterwards the threats & abuse started – and some were carried out. My mum got investigated for benefit fraud, he attempted to destroy one of my siblings marriages with false accusations of infidelity, every single one of my friends were paid visits – my best friend saw him outside her house with a baseball bat in his hand, my car was keyed, my Managing Director walked into my workplace with our dog which he had found tied up outside & I was repeatedly assessed by social services for child neglect and abuse.
I was stalked – he followed me in his friends cars so I wouldn’t recognise him and he hid in bushes outside my new home.
And after the threats and abuse came the apologies and false promises….most of the above my eldest daughter saw and still remembers….
…..and that cycle of abuse was as intense when I left that marriage as when I was when I was in it….and I was frightened. There were times I considered going back for an ‘easier life’ and there were times I accepted that I’d just be controlled forever.
Today I’ve spoken to the mum of the stunning girl in this post.
Faye.
She was a thirty year old mum of three beautiful little girls…she left her husband after years of Domestic abuse. She had left him many times before – only this time it was for good..and as she got stronger being away from him he saw he was losing control.
On Saturday 28th April he stabbed Faye to death.
Her mum will now try somehow and continue to live without her daughter, her friends and family are left destroyed and one day her babies will learn that their Mummy died under the most horrific cruel circumstances.
Right now, this month, seven women be murdered in our country by a current or former partner.
This is the exact reason Domestic abuse needs to be highlighted.
It’s why every agency from our schools to our Police force need a full understanding of Domestic abuse to support men; women and children to leave and remain safe.
Faye – I am so sorry – I am devastated we have lost another mum, friend, daughter – another amazing woman who should be waking up tomorrow to do the school run.
Please help smash the target here to somehow help towards Faye’s babies futures: https://www.gofundme.com/5hkcti0
#justiceforfaye
Credit Facebook page Part-Time Working mummy
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When Your Baby Makes An Early Arrival
This is one of the only photos that I have where I look pregnant.
This was ten days before our sweet boy decided to join us, fourteen weeks before he was supposed to.
If I could go back in time, I would tell myself to push harder the first time the doctors ignored my concerns. I would tell myself that everything would be okay, and that I would make it through.
But nothing, not even the advice that I would give the old me, can prepare you for the NICU. Everyone’s journey here is SO different, there’s absolutely no way that anyone can tell you what to expect.
When I see the new moms get wheeled up here for the first time, my heart breaks for them. I want to just hug them, and tell them that I know exactly how they feel. Their birth plan had gone out the window, their “perfect labour” didn’t exist. Their brains are still foggy from the medication, and their baby… the only thing on their mind… that sweet baby… is in the best hands.
I remember the surgeons telling me that I would be out of the OR ten minutes after Jameson left. I laid on the table, arms stretched out, for what felt like years. Come to find out, it ended up being a little over an hour. I sat in recovery until I could move my toes, and I concentrated SO hard, I knew that I had to have had enough muscle memory to move a stinkin’ toe! They let me go early, because I wouldn’t leave them alone about it. They let me see our miracle baby for 25 minutes before I was wheeled back to my room, to wait until I could stand. The nurse walked in a few hours later and asked “do you think you’re ready?” I immediately stood up, and blood went EVERYWHERE. “Woah, you weren’t supposed to stand up yet!” But off to see my boy, I went.
I understand, Mama. All that is important is that sweet baby. The pain killers, uterus massages, pumping, it can wait.
When Jameson was just a few weeks old, the doctors had “the talk” with us. If you’re a micro-preemie parent, I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about. That heart-sinking moment when medical professionals come to tell you that your child may not make it. The choices that you are forced to make are unimaginable, and they will eat you alive, regardless of what that choice was.
We have signed consent forms, giving strangers permission to operate on our son. We’ve seen him cry (we haven’t heard him, yet), we’ve watched him get poked, you name it.
I’ve watched syringes of strangers blood get pumped into our son to keep him alive.
I’ve seen 10+ nurses running as fast as they can to our baby’s bedside to give his little two-pound body compressions, and stimulate him to keep him responsive while they put a tube back down his throat.
I slept on pull-out chair for weeks, and ran off of bags of chips and coffee.
I’ve cried, boy have I cried, and I’ve let my ugly out on a lot of people who didn’t deserve it.
But, I’ve also had months to celebrate the small things.
I won’t ever be upset when Jameson pees on me, because that means his urinary system is finally deciding to function properly.
I’m not mad when I smell like puke, because he’s finally off of TPN fluids.
I got to kiss my boy at three days old.
I got to dress him once he was a few months.
We got to give him his first “big boy bath” at six, and Gigi and Grandpa Greg finally got to hold him at five.
These are things that are taken for granted, that I will never ever let go unnoticed.
The point of this post is to tell you this: Although our journey has been long, and it has been filled with a lot of ups and downs, we are not the only ones. Please, please be considerate when you’re talking to moms with special babies. They are miracles, regardless of their needs. I know that sometimes it’s not “normal”, and if you have questions, ask! Please be patient with us and our crazy rules, and our last-minute cancellations. But, please don’t be ugly to us Mama’s who have fought so hard for our babies. They are loved more than you can imagine.🖤
Full credit goes to Keeghan Haight
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Using A Vibrator To Get My Baby To Sleep
Okay so I bought this off beauty off of the online site wish.
Yes it is exactly what you think it is.
Just keep reading.
I got it and when it arrived I realised it had no batteries.
At the same time I realised that my youngest daughters vibrating bouncer batteries had died.
So we go to buy batteries for both, off we trot on a mission to make both mummy and daughter happy, but in obviously different ways.
We get home and I realise we have got the wrong size batteries for the baby bouncer.
This is a problem because unlike her older sister she is a basic, she likes to be swaddled, she needs womb noises and vibrations/swinging/rocking motions to remain calm and help her to sleep when she is feeling bad, tired or colicy.
So here I am looking at this never been used bullet and I put the battery in and press the button.
This thing is powerful like way better than her chair.
So I here I am.
Playing womb music on my phone and holding a bullet vibrator to my 1 month olds back to keep her calm and help her sleep.
Something I never thought I’d say.
Now I can’t use it for what it was originally intended for, that would just be wrong.
Okay I,ve lost my new toy but my baby has never been calmer and quicker to fall asleep, this is going to be my new trick to get her to sleep when she is really unsettled, best not to do it in front off my in-laws or own mother though, can you imagine the looks I would receive.
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Veet Hair Removal Cream And Frozen Peas
If anyone wants a laugh then let me explain to you about tonight’s little escapade with the fucking VEET hair removal cream and why I’m now laying in bed with a bag of frozen peas on my vagina.
Me and my friend were in tescos this evening looking at the personal care products and we were like you know what, I want a porn star arse hole and I’m broke so let’s rock n roll. VEET HAIR REMOVAL CREAM THAT BRIGHTENS THE SKIN. Got that for a few quid and also a small tub of bleach to brighten the butt hole 🙃 if you’ve read any of the online reviews you’ll know, don’t be a twat.
Got back to my house had dinner had a few glasses of wine and my other half had gone to bed, so we’re left to VEET and bleach our arse holes like the actual fucking delinquents we are ready to twat it up. Chucked a face mask on and we were ready to go.
Both of us have one leg cocked up on a chair while we slather the hair removal cream on our vaginas, bikini line and bums. Felt a wee burn but nothing we couldn’t handle. I’ve had a kid for Christ sake, it wasn’t that deep. We then took it in turns after a few mins to get it off each other and look on in amazement at our hairless little bums. Both of us thinking to ourselves that it will be flawless sex now and we’re sleek dolphins. It was good, uncomfortable, but good.
Didn’t even let the dust settle and our arses were still pretty red raw from the VEET and my friends stirred up this poxy bleach pot and was like right, bend over let’s do this. I’ve started doing hers and this was when the real adventure began.
My friends leapt from the carpet and let me know she’s going to be sick and can’t do it. Obviously, I was pissing myself and I was like nah shut up come on let’s do it, unaware of the pain to follow. She’s actually rolling around on the floor now sweating because the pains so hideous, but the pain has passed so she can cope. And then she says right your go bend over.
I’ve bent over and assumed the position, my shiny new flower exposed to the elements and ready to go.
If you’ve ever veeted your bum and then decided to bleach it after then you know the pain to follow is like straight up hydrochloric acid being swilled onto your arse hole. It’s fucking horrific.
I’ve screamed and lunged forward and understood exactly how she felt because now I felt the same. I felt winded and I couldn’t breathe and I felt like I was about to bring up my dinner because the pain was so intense. She’s told me to breathe and get through it and the pain will go. So I’m breathing and breathing for what feels like an hour but was actually about 1/2 a second and I say no I can’t do this and throw myself into the toilet, where I sit and wonder if I’m going to end up with 3rd degree burns or need a fucking skin graft or something.
I’ve wiped the cream off thinking it’s cool it’ll stop except it felt like I was possessed by the devil every time I touched it so I throw myself into the bath with a dress on just to sit in it and spread my cheeks to get this bleach off.
My friend in the mean time is about to pass out through the pain because it comes in waves. You think it’s going to get better but it doesn’t and the pain just comes straight back and it feels like shit when it does.
Got the bleach off and it didn’t feel too bad, felt alright. Took some pictures of our new shiny arses after the initial burning shock to send to our boyfriends, happy days, mine loves my new arse. It’s a good end to a not so good evening.
Fast forward to now, I am laying in bed and wake up because I need a wee 🙃 I struggle to get up because it feels like fucking Chernobyl in my fanny. Like a nuclear meltdown because the heat and pain is RADIATING off me.
I go for my wee and the sting is instant. I started shouting out in pain and I grabbed the jug on the side of the bath to pour cold water on my vagina while I’m sat down. The cold water shocked me and took the heat away for a second before it came back. I wipe and there is BLOOD on the tissue. Not like red blood, but orange blood where my flaps have been WEEPING from the hair removal and bleach.
I stood up, dried off by patting down using a towel and then went to get a drink because the pain was so extreme I once again felt like I was going to hurl. I’ve gone in my room and my boyfriends like wtf is wrong with you what’s happened !? While I sob uncontrollably, my vagina was on fire and I had a sense of impending doom that this would be it forever now. He’s got straight up and run an ice cold bath and told me to sit in it.
After finding the courage to lay down and spread my legs to get some air to them I had to stand back up to get in the bath. My other half is holding my hand the whole time because he can see the pain in my face. This isn’t an over dramatic pain. This is a “my raw flesh is exposed on my vagina and I can’t sit, stand or lay” kind of pain.
Sat in the ice-cold bath for 10 mins and my vagina is numb. Now laying in bed with a bag of frozen peas on my shrivelled up painful little flower asking myself why the FUCK did I do this ??????? And then thinking to myself you know what tho hun I’m fucking stupid enough to do this again and I probably will because my bum is GLOWING and there’s not a single hair down there 😂
Emailed in by Julie McWilliams
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Beware Of The Kellogg’s Sip Up Bowls
So last night I had a craving, a craved something sweet like a nice Twix or a bag of malteasers but I hadn’t done a food shop in a week and my supplies were low so I decided to make myself some coco pops (you’re never too old) anyways I thought I’d use my daughters special bowl so I could suck all the chocolate milky goodness.
Ok now this is where my happiness ended, no sweet release, no enjoyable chocolately goodness but along came distress, horror and a grown woman screaming in the kitchen in her very old, worn out but ever so comfy dressing gown.
Just as I was about to pour in my coco pops I see something black sticking out of the built in straw.
Ok don’t panic it’s probably an eye lash!!!
Nope nope nopedy nope it’s an 8 legged mafia looking spider 🕷.
Let’s just say I’m traumatized I could have sucked on a spider.
My daughter no longer has her favourite bowl as it was launched out of the back door, ok I could go in the garden and retrieve it but it can stay there, until one of the kids is brave enough to see if mafia spider has moved out and started a little family in the garden where they belong.
Now I’m sat here eating a bloody apple. 🍎
I’m super paranoid now, checking in the toilet roll insert, looking in glasses, shoes, mugs and even checking under tea spoons, so to all mummies out there with a spider phobia rinse the straw under the ap before use.
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