Everything Sucks. That’s a big pill to swallow. Let’s finally take this sepia, look at me I’m so unique and cool Instagram filter off of our lives and live in reality.
But where to begin?
I can only start to try to figure it out by beginning with my first real experience- my circumcision. I would like to think most people’s earliest memories are of the birth of a younger sibling or a blankie or something. Mine is the removal of my foreskin. Many boys may not be circumcised at all, most that are have it done in the hospital shortly after their birth. My circumcision came a full eight days into my life and in front of all my family and friends. Being born into a Jewish family, this is how I was to be circumcised and how all my ancestors before me had been also. I was one tiny shmeckel in a long line of tiny shmeckels.
Every Jewish baby boy gets a week to adjust to his new surroundings. The dark, moist cave I had been occupying had been replaced with this wide open blue and green place. I couldn’t do much, but I liked the blurry things I saw, the smells in that big thing in the middle of head, and the pair of breasts constantly in my face. They were my mom’s but whatever. They were nice. Life was good. Life was pure.
Day 8.
My world comes crashing down.
A room full of eyes are focused on my tiny baby penis. A man with a long beard gives me a sip of wine and all my baby inhibitions are lowered. I trust this man won’t hurt me, so far other people have only carried me around and ensured my anus was clean. People are good. But my own parents hold down my arms and legs. I struggle to free myself. Seriously Dad? You’ve been afraid to drop me all week and now your Stone Cold Steve Austining me. Mom, what the fuck? Watch out for my soft spot, Jesus Christ.
The hairy Jew lowers his shiny sharp thing directly toward mine.
Not Jesus Christ the hairy Jew. The hairy Jew from before. The one who is literally sawing off a chunk of my penis.
Here we go.
Pain. Fear. Sadness. Everyone claps. Mazel tov! I cry.
Eight days old and I’m supposed to be able to sort through these feelings. Why did they have to make that shorter of all things? Who are all these people and why can’t they leave me alone? Do you expect me to just continue on living my life after all of this?
I did continue living my life unfortunately. Right after that there was laughter and music, a celebration of my butchered genitalia. People shook my dad’s hand and gave my mom a kiss on the cheek. The rabbi mingled and enjoyed some free food. Everything was back to normal. Nope. Everything now sucked.
I understood the beauty of life for a week before it was taken away from me. Other people may have been lucky enough to get a month or two. Maybe even a year. But inevitably everyone gets their dick sliced off. Figuratively at least. Even the Ladies. I did a Google search for female circumcision. Don’t be grossed out, I could have linked to images. So if you were one of the luckier ones to keep your turtle neck or have your very own vagina- eventually you were dropped, or cut, or victim to, “Are you sure we can have sex with the crib still in here” “Yeah, its only a baby. It doesn’t know what’s going on.”
We know what’s up. Now we do at least. Everything Sucks and the circumcisions keep on coming, just disguised as Jersey Shore cast members or the word YOLO. Keep reading, you’ll get your daily dose of brutal truth. My truth comes in an average to below-average sized package, reminding me everyday that Everything Sucks. But my mom says I’m still growing.
