Vaginas are cool

Every vagina I've ever met was cool. Now, while I don't always think about one's vagina, I am a member of the Vagina Cohort...a membership I cherish. Okay, okay, there are times I REALLY think about vaginas: when a girl is smokin' hot, smokin' smart, or she has some smokin' camel toe and I can't look away.

But the Vagina Cohort...ah, I love those girls. Let me clarify. My graduate program runs in cohorts, the people you begin with are the ones you take certain core classes with and you all graduate together. My cohort is all women. At our first academic-related outing, one of our girls wore a "Vagina Monologues" tee shirt from attending the show. We were discussing the play quite a bit and at some point our guide, the director of the institution, turned to our professor, named Regina, and called her Ragina...pronouncing it like vagina. Of course, we lost all couth and laughed out loud, the director turned seven shades of red and my cohort bonded instantly. Any ice left was instantly broken. We became the kind of friends that talk candidly about poop and sex, the kind that could pick each others nose, and we are the kind that hug and kiss goodbye each week from class.

We became the beloved Vagina Cohort. Girls, I love you so much and I am so proud of you.