Skip to main content

Fallafel Tubes

I teach a sex ed course to 8th and 9th graders.

This week, we covered female anatomy and puberty and such. When we got to the Fallopian tubes, the kids couldn't stop calling them fallafel tubes. 

An aside, a couple of years ago, my then six-year-old son had determined that he was going drive a fallafel truck to visit his friend. So I pictured him all cartoony in my fallafel tubes on the way to gestation, hatching his plans.

This gave me the giggles and I couldn't stop picturing female anatomy as a production line for fallafel. 

From there, I mentally devolved into terms that I also don't like or have made fun of, like vaginal barrel which I think should forever have '...of monkeys' attached to the end. As in, 'vaginal barrel... of monkeys' (terminology especially apt in pregnancies with multiples). 

Then I accidentally had my adult filter off and told them about how menarche, the term for a woman's first menses sounds, to me, like the meanest butterfly.

That was when the history teacher, Luke, walked in and the students were like, 'monarchy?' 

And I go, "No, that's Luke's class. Menarche." Which, by the way, weird that it's men-arche. Maybe it's a super mean feminist butterfly that's all menarchy. Like a butterfly system of anarchy where the male of the species have no power and the female butterflies all have super punk looks with like piercings and black lipstick.

Then Luke escaped from the room as quickly as possible and I joked about chasing him around with the anonymous question box.

I got a text from a friend during class that I checked later after school and found was that she is PREGNANT and I was like, whoah, that's crazy. And I also thought about asking her if her fallafel tubes have made magic, but then I didn't because I knew she wouldn't follow, not being in 8th grade in my class and all.

Instead, I texted another friend after school about the fallafel tubes and you know what? She was on her way to pick up fallafel when I texted her. What are the odds?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Home birth- The real fuckin deal

So the end of pregnancy is for the fuckin birds. I'm sure plenty of you out there know this. There's nothing to say but that you're sick of being pregnant. You're a little sick of the sweet smiles and knowing looks from strangers. You're just all over sick of it. You're spectacularly sick of the: when's your due date how far are you are you having a boy or a girl I bet you're sick of this what hospital are you going to, conversations. You miss when people used to ask about the soccer game you played or the book you're reading. You're sick of swollen handsfeetfaceneckanklesEVERYTHING. Oh and from the beginning of pregnancy until FRIDAY, I had NO stretch marks. Friday my entire lower abdomen erupted into one. giant. stretch mark. So all weekend, I thought, please let this be over soon. Every cramp I felt I welcomed and thought, "whatever work my body does now, it doesn't have to do during labor." Little did I know how much

Having Babies at Home

My whole life, I've heard the story of my cousin Anna's birth. And her sister's too. But I hear more about Anna's. My aunt didn't exactly have a lot of love for the medical profession. And her first baby had been a horrible experience. She'd had him wrenched from her at least as much as she "gave him up" for adoption by nursing staff who leered at her and called her unpleasant names. And she loved him when he was born. And she found him when he turned 18 and loved him till the day she died. When she had kids for keeps, she did it differently. She read books and assigned duties and had them at home. She was brave and surely faced many people who disagreed with her decision. But she stuck by her convictions and her desire for a natural birth and won 2 beautiful girls. My mom was there when Anna was born. So was her sister, Kristina. They both still get this sparkle in their eyes whenever they talk about it. My mom says it was one of the most

Dear Book Pimp

So I wrote this book and I think it's pretty decent. That's the feedback I'm getting anyway, which is bitchin' really since I have a degree in Education, NOT writing. Plus, this is my first try, so really I should be happy, right? But, turns out writing the book is maybe the easy part. The publishing is another story. You have to find a Literary Agent. To do this, you have to write a 1-3 page letter to many literary agents to convince them to read a sample chapter. Send it with a Self addressed stamped envelope (SASE) and wait. there's more but I'm already experiencing a high level anxiety just writing about this part. In my letter, I'm supposed to explain who I am, what my book's about, why I'm qualified to write it, why its sicky illy good, who'll read it, and on and on. AHHHHHhhhhh! This shit scares me. Also, I'm supposed to be witty, clever, literary, and junk. Oh and explain a 300 page book in a sales pitch. I'm not a frea