Lost Uterus

Has anyone since my uterus?  It's been gone a while now.  But every now and then, I wonder how it's doing.  I look back on my hysterectomy of yore and wax nostalgic.  How did I get through that unexpected stage, without my sweet mom standing by to hold my hand?  It wasn't easy.  First I had to make peace with the abrupt departure of Lucy and Ethel, those wacky ovarian best buds, warbling, “If you’re ever in a jam, here I am!” to each other from my left and right sides ever since I turned twelve.  Along with my dearly departed uterus, they granted me children.  They introduced me to water retention and off-the-chart mood swings, too. And even though the girlfriends were gone in the physical sense, I still felt their daunting presence.  They were phantom body parts now, in cahoots with my lost uterus to taunt me in the middle of the night:

“Why’d you get rid of us?” Lucy asked.

“We were still good!” Ethel said.

“Your stupid uterus was messed up! Not us,” Lucy said.

“Don’t call me stupid,” my former uterus chimed in.
“What’d we ever do to you, anyway?” Ethel asked.
“It’s what you might’ve done that I was afraid of,” I said.
“So you picked hormone replacement over us?” Lucy asked.
“Some trade-off,” my useless uterus said.

“Oh, shut the eff up!” I told them all.
We went a few more rounds, then I covered my head with my pillow and went back to sleep...

Tonight, two post-menopausal gals -- no names mentioned; hint - the SJG is one of them -- will go see "Menopause:  The Musical" to celebrate our lost uteruses.  Or, is it uteri?   Yes, I believe it is.  Either way, we're going, dammit.  Some things are worth singing about, even missing body parts.  Don't you agree?  Of course, you do.