I woke up at 10.30 this morning after a night of not sleeping well. I left the guestroom in the west wing and walked to the living room in the south wing where I found my mother behind her computer playing a digital card game.
“Good morning, Mama.”
“Good evening. Jesus Holy Christ Veer, it’s half past ten.”
“Yeah, I know. Papa and I drank too much last night and combined with the Valium and the Dutch grass that I was smoking with my head out of your guestroom window, I just sank into a coma. Where’s Papa?”
“He went to the hospital to get the result of the cancer radiation treatment.”
“So today he’ll find out whether he’ll live or die? I mean, whether he’ll live a little longer, as we all die some day, whether we like it or not. Tomorrow I could get hit by a tuktuk and die at 44.”
“For Christ sake, Veer, there are no tuktuks in Holland. It’s more likely that you’ll get hit on the head with a hammer by one of those Muslim foreigners who rob old people from their money at ATM machines. Or those other immigrants from Romania and Yugoslavia and that trash from Morocco.”
“I am not old and I am strong enough to beat up a guy of any nation. Well, I can’t believe Papa didn’t ask me to come with him to the hospital. I could have driven him in his Mercedes. If he gets the bad news, someone needs to be with him. Why aren’t you with him?”
“Jesus Holy Christ, Veer, I just got out of the bloody hospital myself. I am not allowed to strain myself or stress myself out of my life.”
Mother stuck a cigarette in her mouth while another one was still burning in her ashtray.
“If you want breakfast you can get it yourself, Veer. There’s still coffee in the pot, but it's two hours old.”
“I drank 4 glasses of hot water already and I don’t eat before I do my yoga. I’ll have something later. Do you have any healthy food in the house? I can’t eat junk food after yoga.”
“O. Yoga. Is that the reason why you’re not dressed yet, walking around in your underwear in my penthouse?”
“Mother Fucking Christ, you pulled me yourself out of your vagina, and now you have a problem with me walking around in my underwear? We’re in Holland, not Thailand.”
I started with 44 sun greetings, some seated twists, low lunges, hero virasana, my favourite pigeon kapotasana, followed by pashchimottanasana and a bunch of half prayer twists. I ended with a left and right tree vrikshasana, balancing myself on one leg with the other one in an intricate position placed against my inner thigh, and hands in Namaste.”
“You’re too skinny,” Mama said while watching me.
“Well, if I looked like a pig I wouldn’t be able to put both feet in my neck at age 44, Mama.”
“I know. At your age I was already fat like a…. well…”
“Pig.”
“I don’t understand why you are torturing yourself by doing all those exercises every day and denying yourself tasty food.”
Still balancing in tree-position, I said, “Tasty food? Junk food you mean, Mama. Papa and you have been fat as long as I can remember. I don’t want to be like you two. I can do things with my body girls half my age can’t even do. My husband is much younger than I am and he looks like a movie star so I need to work my arse off because he can get any girl he wants. Until now he hasn’t found anyone better than me. That is why I am working my arse off and eating healthy food. Capice?”
“I can see your pussy when you position yourself like that!”
“Jesus Holy Christ on the cross, Mama, can you please just remain in silent position behind your computer so that I can finish my yoga, please?”
“But I can see your pussy.”
I looked down. “You can’t see my vagina; I am wearing underwear. I think you see things that aren’t there. Well, I take that back. It’s there, but I am wearing underwear.”
“Jesus Christ Veer, I saw your pussy, for Christ sake.”
“So what? The day after tomorrow I am going to the Family Spa Sauna in Houten with my girlfriends so everyone can see my pussy; men, women and children. I don’t give a shit if people see my pussy. It’s beautiful enough to be seen.”
One minute silence.
“Well, at least you don’t have to feel embarrassed about your body. You look good. Like a model. By the way, how is your pussy doing? Still happy?”
“Very well, Mama. Very happy.”
“So you’re happy with it?”
“Yes Mama. I am happy with her.”
“So it was worth the operation and the pain?”
“Jesus Mama, it’s been 30 years ago, for Christ sake. I don’t even remember. And yes, I am very happy with my pussy and my young flexible husband and my skinny flexible yoga body and you can’t begin to imagine what kind of fun we have with our bodies. Do you know that we can do every position of the Kama Sutra without the need to be hospitalized afterwards? Tantric yoga is absolutely fabulous.”
“Well, I am happy for your Tantra. I can’t remember the last time I had had sex with your father.”
“Yeah, must have been years before I was born.”
“O shut up, Veer, for Christ sake, Jesus on the cross. I have never cheated on your father. Stupid, I know, but true. Could have had so much more fun. I only had your father inside me and now he doesn’t even have balls anymore because they castrated him. Prostate cancer, bladder cancer, testicle cancer, tumor in leg, they took everything away. Not that it matters because we hadn’t had sex in ages anyway, and actually I never enjoyed it. Not with your father. Do you enjoy it?”
“Yah. Very much. I spend 4 hours a day doing it. For free.”
“Four hours, for Christ sake?”
“Three hours at night for my sake, and an additional one hour when I wake up. I like sex in the morning. It recharges my battery. And my dearest little heart is like a 17-year-old boy. Insatiable. Oy!”
“You could have made some serious money with that activity if you’d been a prostitute.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. Those Thai Kathoey earn more money per hour than I do. I need to sell an awful lot of books to get the same kind of money they do in only one evening. And they just have to lay on their backs staring at the ceiling.”
“Veer?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Is it possible for men to see the difference between your pussy and those of other women?”
“No, mine looks better. I had a great surgeon. At 44, my pussy still looks like that of a 16 year old girl. I have shown my pussy to some befriended top surgeons in Thailand and they all thought that my Dutch doctor has done a great job in 1984. It was my surgeon who taught many Thai surgeons in later years.”
“I have never seen your pussy.”
“Mama, Jesus Fucking Christ on the cross, Maria, Joseph and all the apostles, you’re not going to ask me to show you my pussy.”
“Well, I am just curious what it looks like. You’re my daughter. I gave birth to you. I pulled you out of my womb myself because nobody was home because your father was getting the doctor out of his bed, for Christ sake. You are my own flesh and blood. I want to see your pussy.”
I unpositioned myself out of my half warrior position and walked towards mother and her laptop computer. Standing in front of her, I pulled down my underwear.”
“Holy bloody Jesus, that looks so real.”
“Beautiful, huh?" I demonstrated my private parts. "And see this, I have a clitoris and a clitoral hood as well.”
“And does it hurt when you have sex? Do you get wet or do you need lube?”
“I have a mucous membrane, so my vaginal lining is very much like vaginas of other healthy sexual active women. It gets wet when it gets stimulated. And believe me, I get a lot of stimulation in Thailand.”
“Is that guy of yours good for you? Is he cheating on you?”
“No mother. He loves me, believe it or not. I adore my man. I always tell him how beautiful he is, I adore his penis, I never nag and complain, I am always nice and respectful and I never fight with him. I make him laugh, I dance for him naked, I make him feel proud of himself and me. If I were a grumpy old fat pig of a complaining bitch like so many other women, I wouldn’t have such a great relationship and my husband would be sticking his penis into young Thai concubines. But I know how to make a relationship work and I work on it every day. It doesn't happen all by magic; it is hard work. But I love my job of loving my man. And that is why you have a happy daughter and a happy son-in-law and happy grandchildren.”
“Well, that’s nice. I need to rest now. You know, my aorta is still not okay and I need to lie down on my bed in the afternoon. You can use my computer if you want. Are you going to write something today?”
“Yeah, I thought of writing something about monkeys. I used to have a lot of monkeys in and around my home in India.”
“Monkeys. I see.”
“How’s your English, Mama?”
“Pretty good but I don’t read it very well.”
“Do you sometimes read my stories on my weblog?”
“Nah, too difficult. My English is not that good. I tend to fall asleep after reading one sentence in English. And why would I read your weblog, you always tell me what you experience anyway, in Dutch.”
“Good. You won't miss a thing, honey. My weblog stories are all boring, I only write about religion and the 8-fold Buddhist path. Nothing you would be interested in.”
“Jesus Christ, Veertje, thank you for showing me your pussy. You know I love you. Pussy or not, but I love you. I hope you know that.”
“Yeah. I love you too, and the Holy Goddamn Christ knows it too, for fuck sake.”
“And your father loves you too. Maybe he doesn’t always tell you that he does, but he does love you.”
“That’s nice to hear. Have a nice rest, Mama. And please wake up, because I am not ready to have a dead mother yet. I will wait for father to get home and hear him out about his cancer-thing.”
“I hope he doesn’t piss on the floor like yesterday. He can’t hold up his pee anymore and he refuses to wear diapers.”
“Mama, I'd rather pee on the floor too rather than in a diaper. Just ask the domestic help to follow him in his wake with a sponge and latex gloves.”
I am not sure how my mother would react if she would be reading my cliterature, but what the fuck, I am old enough now to decide what to put on my weblog or not.
I am planning to write something about monkeys tomorrow.
“Good morning, Mama.”
“Good evening. Jesus Holy Christ Veer, it’s half past ten.”
“Yeah, I know. Papa and I drank too much last night and combined with the Valium and the Dutch grass that I was smoking with my head out of your guestroom window, I just sank into a coma. Where’s Papa?”
“He went to the hospital to get the result of the cancer radiation treatment.”
“So today he’ll find out whether he’ll live or die? I mean, whether he’ll live a little longer, as we all die some day, whether we like it or not. Tomorrow I could get hit by a tuktuk and die at 44.”
“For Christ sake, Veer, there are no tuktuks in Holland. It’s more likely that you’ll get hit on the head with a hammer by one of those Muslim foreigners who rob old people from their money at ATM machines. Or those other immigrants from Romania and Yugoslavia and that trash from Morocco.”
“I am not old and I am strong enough to beat up a guy of any nation. Well, I can’t believe Papa didn’t ask me to come with him to the hospital. I could have driven him in his Mercedes. If he gets the bad news, someone needs to be with him. Why aren’t you with him?”
“Jesus Holy Christ, Veer, I just got out of the bloody hospital myself. I am not allowed to strain myself or stress myself out of my life.”
Mother stuck a cigarette in her mouth while another one was still burning in her ashtray.
“If you want breakfast you can get it yourself, Veer. There’s still coffee in the pot, but it's two hours old.”
“I drank 4 glasses of hot water already and I don’t eat before I do my yoga. I’ll have something later. Do you have any healthy food in the house? I can’t eat junk food after yoga.”
“O. Yoga. Is that the reason why you’re not dressed yet, walking around in your underwear in my penthouse?”
“Mother Fucking Christ, you pulled me yourself out of your vagina, and now you have a problem with me walking around in my underwear? We’re in Holland, not Thailand.”
I started with 44 sun greetings, some seated twists, low lunges, hero virasana, my favourite pigeon kapotasana, followed by pashchimottanasana and a bunch of half prayer twists. I ended with a left and right tree vrikshasana, balancing myself on one leg with the other one in an intricate position placed against my inner thigh, and hands in Namaste.”
“You’re too skinny,” Mama said while watching me.
“Well, if I looked like a pig I wouldn’t be able to put both feet in my neck at age 44, Mama.”
“I know. At your age I was already fat like a…. well…”
“Pig.”
“I don’t understand why you are torturing yourself by doing all those exercises every day and denying yourself tasty food.”
Still balancing in tree-position, I said, “Tasty food? Junk food you mean, Mama. Papa and you have been fat as long as I can remember. I don’t want to be like you two. I can do things with my body girls half my age can’t even do. My husband is much younger than I am and he looks like a movie star so I need to work my arse off because he can get any girl he wants. Until now he hasn’t found anyone better than me. That is why I am working my arse off and eating healthy food. Capice?”
“I can see your pussy when you position yourself like that!”
“Jesus Holy Christ on the cross, Mama, can you please just remain in silent position behind your computer so that I can finish my yoga, please?”
“But I can see your pussy.”
I looked down. “You can’t see my vagina; I am wearing underwear. I think you see things that aren’t there. Well, I take that back. It’s there, but I am wearing underwear.”
“Jesus Christ Veer, I saw your pussy, for Christ sake.”
“So what? The day after tomorrow I am going to the Family Spa Sauna in Houten with my girlfriends so everyone can see my pussy; men, women and children. I don’t give a shit if people see my pussy. It’s beautiful enough to be seen.”
One minute silence.
“Well, at least you don’t have to feel embarrassed about your body. You look good. Like a model. By the way, how is your pussy doing? Still happy?”
“Very well, Mama. Very happy.”
“So you’re happy with it?”
“Yes Mama. I am happy with her.”
“So it was worth the operation and the pain?”
“Jesus Mama, it’s been 30 years ago, for Christ sake. I don’t even remember. And yes, I am very happy with my pussy and my young flexible husband and my skinny flexible yoga body and you can’t begin to imagine what kind of fun we have with our bodies. Do you know that we can do every position of the Kama Sutra without the need to be hospitalized afterwards? Tantric yoga is absolutely fabulous.”
“Well, I am happy for your Tantra. I can’t remember the last time I had had sex with your father.”
“Yeah, must have been years before I was born.”
“O shut up, Veer, for Christ sake, Jesus on the cross. I have never cheated on your father. Stupid, I know, but true. Could have had so much more fun. I only had your father inside me and now he doesn’t even have balls anymore because they castrated him. Prostate cancer, bladder cancer, testicle cancer, tumor in leg, they took everything away. Not that it matters because we hadn’t had sex in ages anyway, and actually I never enjoyed it. Not with your father. Do you enjoy it?”
“Yah. Very much. I spend 4 hours a day doing it. For free.”
“Four hours, for Christ sake?”
“Three hours at night for my sake, and an additional one hour when I wake up. I like sex in the morning. It recharges my battery. And my dearest little heart is like a 17-year-old boy. Insatiable. Oy!”
“You could have made some serious money with that activity if you’d been a prostitute.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. Those Thai Kathoey earn more money per hour than I do. I need to sell an awful lot of books to get the same kind of money they do in only one evening. And they just have to lay on their backs staring at the ceiling.”
“Veer?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Is it possible for men to see the difference between your pussy and those of other women?”
“No, mine looks better. I had a great surgeon. At 44, my pussy still looks like that of a 16 year old girl. I have shown my pussy to some befriended top surgeons in Thailand and they all thought that my Dutch doctor has done a great job in 1984. It was my surgeon who taught many Thai surgeons in later years.”
“I have never seen your pussy.”
“Mama, Jesus Fucking Christ on the cross, Maria, Joseph and all the apostles, you’re not going to ask me to show you my pussy.”
“Well, I am just curious what it looks like. You’re my daughter. I gave birth to you. I pulled you out of my womb myself because nobody was home because your father was getting the doctor out of his bed, for Christ sake. You are my own flesh and blood. I want to see your pussy.”
I unpositioned myself out of my half warrior position and walked towards mother and her laptop computer. Standing in front of her, I pulled down my underwear.”
“Holy bloody Jesus, that looks so real.”
“Beautiful, huh?" I demonstrated my private parts. "And see this, I have a clitoris and a clitoral hood as well.”
“And does it hurt when you have sex? Do you get wet or do you need lube?”
“I have a mucous membrane, so my vaginal lining is very much like vaginas of other healthy sexual active women. It gets wet when it gets stimulated. And believe me, I get a lot of stimulation in Thailand.”
“Is that guy of yours good for you? Is he cheating on you?”
“No mother. He loves me, believe it or not. I adore my man. I always tell him how beautiful he is, I adore his penis, I never nag and complain, I am always nice and respectful and I never fight with him. I make him laugh, I dance for him naked, I make him feel proud of himself and me. If I were a grumpy old fat pig of a complaining bitch like so many other women, I wouldn’t have such a great relationship and my husband would be sticking his penis into young Thai concubines. But I know how to make a relationship work and I work on it every day. It doesn't happen all by magic; it is hard work. But I love my job of loving my man. And that is why you have a happy daughter and a happy son-in-law and happy grandchildren.”
“Well, that’s nice. I need to rest now. You know, my aorta is still not okay and I need to lie down on my bed in the afternoon. You can use my computer if you want. Are you going to write something today?”
“Yeah, I thought of writing something about monkeys. I used to have a lot of monkeys in and around my home in India.”
“Monkeys. I see.”
“How’s your English, Mama?”
“Pretty good but I don’t read it very well.”
“Do you sometimes read my stories on my weblog?”
“Nah, too difficult. My English is not that good. I tend to fall asleep after reading one sentence in English. And why would I read your weblog, you always tell me what you experience anyway, in Dutch.”
“Good. You won't miss a thing, honey. My weblog stories are all boring, I only write about religion and the 8-fold Buddhist path. Nothing you would be interested in.”
“Jesus Christ, Veertje, thank you for showing me your pussy. You know I love you. Pussy or not, but I love you. I hope you know that.”
“Yeah. I love you too, and the Holy Goddamn Christ knows it too, for fuck sake.”
“And your father loves you too. Maybe he doesn’t always tell you that he does, but he does love you.”
“That’s nice to hear. Have a nice rest, Mama. And please wake up, because I am not ready to have a dead mother yet. I will wait for father to get home and hear him out about his cancer-thing.”
“I hope he doesn’t piss on the floor like yesterday. He can’t hold up his pee anymore and he refuses to wear diapers.”
“Mama, I'd rather pee on the floor too rather than in a diaper. Just ask the domestic help to follow him in his wake with a sponge and latex gloves.”
I am not sure how my mother would react if she would be reading my cliterature, but what the fuck, I am old enough now to decide what to put on my weblog or not.
I am planning to write something about monkeys tomorrow.
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Hooray for surgeons!
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