Quote:
Originally Posted by HejiraNYC
Anecdotally, I have to admit that I noticed at a very young age that I did not inherit my father's junk gene. I also have to admit that I was rather traumatized the first (and only) time I saw it. It was tiny and it was surrounded by all this gnarly, nasty black hair; it was like a little finch egg in a big nest. A little nubbin. A little acorn.   I remember thinking to myself as a little kid that I was already bigger. |
Haha. This reminds me of one of the only memories I have of my biological father, who passed away when I was 7. He wasn't around much, so I have few memories of him to begin with, but out of the few I have, this one is definitely the most vivid:
I was about 5 or 6, and he had just gotten a vasectomy. I got out of bed to go to the bathroom that night, and blearily opened the door to behold my father with his pants around his ankles, blood all over his thighs and aforementioned pants, and my mother on her knees in front of him with a towel, trying to clean him up and yelling at him. They both froze and looked at me and I remember just standing there, gawping for a few beats before I slowly backed out and closed the door again.
At the time, I was only vaguely aware of what he'd had done, and looking back, I think he must've popped some stitches or something? Whatever it was, that's not really something ANYONE should be confronted with for the terrible offense of opening a bathroom door, let alone a little kid who hadn't ever seen a naked guy before. It was gory.
