Childbirth Left Me with a Crooked Labia

It’s one souvenir I could do without

I’m not the type of person who spends a lot of time looking at their labia. I don’t even own a pocket mirror.

But one day, I was undressing before taking a shower and I caught sight of it in the mirror. Something about it didn’t seem right.

“It’s kind of crooked, isn’t it?” I thought to myself.

This was a new development. I had never thought very highly of my labia, but it had never seemed so uneven and asymmetrical before.

I knew that giving birth can be hell on your nether region, but I still didn’t expect such a drastic change.

The Beauty of Childbirth

Before I get started here, I feel the need to warn my readers that what I’m about to describe is a bit graphic. Childbirth might be a beautiful and wonderful act, but postpartum recovery can be a total horror show.

If you just clicked on this to hear me muse about my lips, skip to the next section.

For you brave souls who have decided to hear the full story, here it goes.

Before you get pregnant, it seems like everyone’s delivery story is all about your pelvis adjusting to make room for the baby and then pushing out your little bundle of joy.

Once you’re knocked up, though, you’ve been inducted into the secret society of new mothers and that’s when they start telling you the truth.

There’s discomfort. There’s pain. There’s yelling some cruel shit around a bunch of nurses who just seem like perfectly lovely ladies.

And then there’s the tearing.

Yep, tearing. Down there… So much for the pelvis accommodating the baby, huh?

I tore pretty badly after the birth of my first child. Fixing me up required a ton of stitches.

I actually have no idea how many sutures were involved because the nurses wouldn’t tell me. When I asked, they would just screw up their faces and say “Oh, hun… It’s a lot.”

What I do know is that it took over an hour to stitch me up.

Healing from the tearing wasn’t easy. For days, I gushed blood whenever I stood up. And stand I did because it was so uncomfortable I could barely sit down.

Eventually, I recovered. But my labia hasn’t been the same since. The stitching left a large, purplish scar that’s a little rough to the touch. But more noticeably, the lips no longer lined up. One is slightly longer than the other now.

One More Thing to Worry About

I wish I just didn’t care what my labia looks like. And that’s not just something I believe in theoretically — it’s a memory. For a long time, I was sexually active without any care or concern about what my pussy looked like.

From my teen years and into my early adulthood, I figured there was just one question when it came to what a pussy looked like: is it sporting a natural look or has it been shaved clean?

I opted for the latter. And I didn’t really worry about the way my labia looked. Frankly, no one did.

We all worried about the size and shape of our tits. We stared at ourselves in the mirror trying to figure out if we had the kind of ass that was worth putting on jeans for. But we never busted out the pocket mirror and wondered whether our pussy lips would turn anyone off.

I mean, how could they? We didn’t ask ourselves whether we had good pussy because the going theory at the time was that pussy is good. Anyone who got anywhere near it should just be grateful.

Somewhere along the way, that changed.

I can’t give you an exact calendar date, but it definitely happened. I don’t know if it’s because of porn or because bros and fuckboys used the internet to amplify their opinions, but at one point, many of us started scrutinizing labias a lot more closely.

I don’t exactly know how everyone defines a sexy labia, but I have a feeling my crooked lips don’t really make the cut.

Just what I needed. One more body part to worry about.

A Flower That Never Blossomed

When I started paying more attention to labias — my own included — I already felt like there was something odd about it.

When I look at my pussy, I see a pair of lips that seem shut, the labia minora tucked away out of sight.

Thanks to my non-Netflix viewing habits, I’ve come to think of that style as porn star pussy.

That makes it sound flattering, but to me it always looked like a flower that forgot to blossom.

Fitting, I suppose, since I’ve never managed to keep a plant alive for very long.

It’s not that I thought it was ugly per se. I just felt like it lacked character.

I had mostly made peace with its appearance — and then it had to become crooked.

It’s not something that affects my current sex life, but I do feel self-conscious about it when I think of the future.

I don’t worry about the way my lips look when I’m with my husband. I’m comfortable with him. He’s familiar with my body and I know for a fact that he’s a fan.

Plus, I’m comfortable being self-conscious around him, so I impose a strict sex-in-the-dark only rule, at least for the foreseeable future.

But I’m also polyamorous, and that means my husband isn’t likely to be my last sexual partner. And that’s where all the labial worry comes in. I’m nervous about first impressions. I know my husband desires me and my body, but that’s not a given with a new partner. What if my crooked vag turns them off or weirds them out?

And I don’t know if I’d be comfortable imposing the sex-in-the-dark only rule with a new partner. Even if I wanted to, new relationship energy means horniness often trumps all of these little rules.

It’s not like I think anyone would decline to eat me out just because my lips are uneven. But I still want my body to be aesthetically pleasing to those who see it.

Embracing Variety — Except My Own

So, my labia bothers me. And it bothers me more now than it ever has. It’s not enough for me to take some drastic step like cosmetic surgery, and I have no plans for trying to make it as a porn star (though who knows what I’ll do if this blogging thing flops). But it is enough to make me worry that my pussy will get a negative reaction instead of a standing ovation.

Luckily, I’m usually too self-conscious about other parts of my body to focus on how I feel about my labia. So, there’s a sliver of a silver lining to a very dark cloud.

Being worried about the way my labia looks honestly feels absurd. It seems like no one really cared about this type of thing ten years ago, and here I am getting hung up over it.

Plus, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my forays into various corners of Reddit and elsewhere, it’s that one of the best and most exciting things about labias is the sheer variety out there. We hear a lot about penis size and shape, but I don’t think we give our labias enough credit.

Women are hiding (or, in the case of Reddit, showing) so many beautiful and unique features between their legs. I just wish I could stop being self-conscious so I can see my own labia the same way.

I really miss the way things were when I first started fucking. Back then, it seemed like pussy lips were intrinsically desirable and unquestionably fun. They were a source of pleasure, not shame and anxiety.

I’m hoping with a little more confidence in my body, some of that old attitude will come back. I could use the break. I can barely decide what to make for dinner most nights, I shouldn’t be wasting any of my mental energy worrying about my labia.

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