by KIRSTY RICE
I was standing in the car park of the little traveller’s school with a group of women. One of my friends was talking about a friend and her breast cancer recovery, she explained that the breast reconstruction was now complete and she would return to have her nipples added.
There was relief that everything was okay, we’d all put ourselves in her shoes for a moment and thought about our families and how we’d cope. And then someone asked exactly how the nipples were made.
“I think you can get them tattooed but they’re going to use her labia”.
I needed to make sure I had it right. Labia, on your bosoms?
I stuttered in my line of questioning, if I had this wrong it would go down in history as one of my most finest word mixes. “I’m not sure of the technical term here, and I imagine this is highly inappropriate, but I believe the phrase from my teenage vocabulary is flaps? Are you saying they’re going to use her flaps?”
There was much giggling. Flaps were confirmed.
In an instant another girlfriend had taken the thought a step further.
She was going to be a labia donor.
“No seriously, mine are HUGE, I’d have heaps to donate.”
Saving the world, one labia at a time.