Call a spade a spade

It’s often been said about me. ‘She calls a spade a spade’

I think that can sometimes mean I’m an opinionated bolshy character. I think it also means that I can cut through the bullshit.

I was in my local A&E last night. If I could of got to Bath I would. Bad stomach pains and feeling generally unwell. Alongside overwhelming panic that I’ve got something very seriously wrong with me. I know how much your mental state can fuck with your physical state. And I am in a state. I don’t like it, at all. It’s scary, it makes you doubt everything that’s happening , it makes you think you are completely losing your mind.

I was seen by a doc, who asked a gynea  to come look at me. He was nice, young, took my history and wanted to do a ‘speculum examination’ I asked him if he’d ever examined someone who had had a vaginectomy. He said no. He offered to get his registrar to examine me instead.

Along comes the registrar. Who calls me ‘Dear’ and asks me ‘is the blood coming from your pee hole or    (Drops voice) down there’


I’ve taught 11 year old girls the names of their gentalia. It’s part of primary education. I’ve helped spread campaigns urging women to    Get to know their bodies.

I won’t say what I called him, but I called a spade a spade.




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