In July last year, I noticed my body wasn’t vomiting as much blood as it previously did. Instantly I knew I was going to start menopausing. At 36. Google searches confirmed this. I told myself that it was the end of my fertility and I could no more have those biracial twins. After worrying myself silly, I went to the gynac. At the clinic, her first question was, “Are you stressed?” Fuck! Yes! I was, I was in the middle of 100 Indian Tinder Tales and I felt I was playing shrink to random strangers, they had taken up all of my mind space. It finally felt so good that someone who wasn’t privy to my life and its new developments was acknowledging the problem. She told me there was nothing to worry but I should get an ultrasound done.

When I booked an appointment, they told me I should drink lots of fluids before I go. I did. Once I walked in, they got down all my details: name, age, etc and I saw everyone around me was drinking water. I did too. When it was my turn, the sonographer said – my bladder was not full and they were going to proceed with shoving the transducer into my vagina. I didn’t want this but also wanted to leave ASAP. Just then the sonographer asked me if I was married and I said no and assuming I am a virgin, they said, “Oh, you will have to drink more water”. I was okay being the virgin and drinking more water rather than have them shove the transducer inside me. Anyway, after drinking bottles of water, when it was my time again, I felt pretty sure I was going to lose control of my bladder but thankfully I didn’t. When they finished and I was rushing out, the sonographer said, “Madam, nothing to worry, you have first-class ovaries.”

Ha ha ha, has anyone complimented your ovaries yet?

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