‘How’s Your Vag?’ Dublin Girlo On Getting Over Her Fear Of The Gynaecologist

This month, our Girlo left her mortification at the door of the doctor's office.

How’s your vag? This isn’t usually the first question my bestie asks me on a Monday morning, but today it is. This also isn’t a question I’m being asked after a weekend of having my ankles wrapped around a bloke’s shoulders and downing Cystopurin because he touched my kidney en route to my G spot.

This weekend I had a routine visit to the Well Woman to check everything was in order and reader, I wanted to die the whole way through it.

This isn’t the first time I have been and it won’t be the last so why am I still mortified when she tells me to jump up on that table, put my heels together and spread em? My vag, my Mary, my lady garden, whatever you want to call it, is my best friend (and my worst enemy for four days a month) – why am I so embarrassed that I’m trying to look after it? We are knee deep in the middle of a smear scandal so looking after your front bum shouldn’t be daunting, embarrassing or have you shitting it in any way shape or form.

Your health is your wealth Huns so I’m going to talk all things vulva related – all the things that are perfectly normal and nothing to be scarlet about at all.



We all have them. Some bigger than others, some that look like curtains, some ya can’t even notice. No two vaginas are the same (why would you want one that someone else has) and no matter what they look like, what bits stick out or what bits don’t, they all do the same job. Own it, Huns.


The dreaded scratch. If I drink too much beer, I get thrush. If I need an antibiotic, by the end of it I have thrush. When I’m stressed out to bits I HAVE F**KING THRUSH. You are gonna get it at some stage in your life and I bet ya a tenner the girl serving you the cream in the chemist has had it too. She feels your pain, literally she has felt the pain, it’s nothing to be scarlet about, and it’s nothing an over the counter remedy won’t fix.

Your rag

One day I’m not gonna get my period and d’ya know what, I actually think when that happens I’m going to miss it. When I know it’s coming I dread it. The cramps, the horrors, the need to eat every ounce of chocolate in my gaff until I feel disgusted with myself. But then it arrives, sometimes heavy, sometimes light, and only lasts a couple of days. Its 2019, own every menstrual cycle like it’s your last! You’ll miss it when it’s gone.

The smear

I’m just back from mine, and look, it stresses me out. The nurse always tells me I’ve a low cervix. I usually have to go from work and am paro to bits that I’ve a sweaty undercarriage after sitting at my desk for eight hours. I always panic that I’ve missed a bit shaving and that this poor nurse is going to be horrified by my bits. But do you know what? She truly doesn’t give a shit. She has seen it all before. Probably 20 times that day. A smear is too important to let nerves or embarrassment talk you out of having one, and I’d take a bit of mortification over the big C any day.

I’ve had a few issues with my bits over the past while. Nothing too serious but enough to make me appreciate it and not be embarrassed to take care of it and to make sure other people are taking care of theirs. Make sure you’re looking after your hole Huns – and Stay Stunnin’.


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