Vasectomy Sweatpants

I put off having a vasectomy for too long. It’s hard to explain why. It’s not like I didn’t want to do it. Kendra and I had decided long ago that three children was our limit. We had two boys, and she was pregnant with our third child. If we had a girl, we would stop because then we’d have at least one of each. And if we had a boy, we would stop because no way was I willing to risk trying again and then ending up with four boys. That much testosterone under one roof is the sort of thing that starts wars. Or at least unsanctioned, unnecessary indoor fires. Besides, I came from a family with three children, and I’m perfect. No, we were done.

But we knew conclusively that this third one was a girl. I scheduled my “procedure” for sometime after our delivery date. I’ll tell you that story another time, so I won’t go into the details here. This is more about philosophical concerns than about a specific story, I guess. To me, a vasectomy represented a line in the sand, so to speak. It was a firm declaration: “This is my forever family, once and for all.” Kendra said she thought of it more like it was a liberation for me, giving me free reign to be promiscuous and immoral without consequences. Laughable, of course. As though I was some sort of international man of intrigue. I’ve never even been a regional man of interest. At most perhaps a local curiosity.

In preparation for the blessed event—the vasectomy, not the birth—I interviewed as many friends as I could. It’s surprising how candidly people can talk about something so private. “Dude, have you been snipped? Shut down the baby factory? Had your member severed? Displaced the dong people? What was it like? Did it hurt? For how long? What did you do after? How long till you ‘recovered’?”

I received all sorts of tips from well-meaning friends: Athletic supporters, tight sausage wrap underwear, sling-style underwear (banana hammocks), marble bag underwear, loose pants, sweatpants, and frozen peas. I wore a jock strap at first because my urologist specifically told me to. My recovery was coming along really well the first few days, and feeling particularly ballsy one morning that first week, I decided to try heading off to work one day without it. Turns out that was a mistake. I ended up wearing it 24/7 for six months after that, just to be safe.

The frozen peas actually made sense, so I went with that. The theory is that a bag of frozen peas is better than an ice pack because it’s fairly malleable, so you can wrap it around where you need it. Honestly, they didn’t help a lot, but they were nevertheless delicious later in the week. Hard to say which was greater: the actual taste, or serving that chicken pot pie Kendra made to our friends without telling them where the veggies had been. (I kid, I kid…or do I?)

The best thing by far, though, was a pair of track pants. They’re better than sweatpants because they actually look nice enough to wear out of the house. And not just to Wal-mart, but even to Kohl’s. Maybe even to Target! They’re just as soft as sweatpants, and every bit as comfy. They zip open a little at the ankles to facilitate fast-action dressing. Their stretchy drawstring waist band accommodates jai alai or Thanksgiving dinner equally well.

They would represent flawless perfection, had I not accidentally tainted them with an oil spot while checking my mower’s vitals a couple of years ago. For the cost of all the chemicals I used to try to eradicate that spot, I probably could have bought ten more pairs. But why would I? This pair is special to me. In fact, I’m wearing them as I write this. And they’re just as cozy and soothing as ever.

What’s your favorite clothing item and why? Does it have reminiscence value, tied to a specific time or event in your life? What is your favorite garment that your spouse or significant other threw out without consulting you? What are some other slang names for men’s undergarments that I missed?

5 Responses to “Vasectomy Sweatpants”

  1. JT September 3, 2010 at 11:31 am #

    Best.Blog.Post.Ever

  2. Brannon September 3, 2010 at 1:28 pm #

    Aw, thanks! I just let my man-parts do all the work. And of course the urologist. That’s my secret.

  3. Krista September 3, 2010 at 10:31 pm #

    Just a friendly reminder to go back and have the urologist check you out every so often. My dad had 2 kids after his first vasectomy. His second one was more successful…

    • admin September 4, 2010 at 12:19 am #

      Thanks for the reminder. I did 6 months later, and he assured me we were in the clear. We’re 5 years past now, so I think we’re probably good. And BTW, it was probably way offsides for you to say his second kid was more successful. (I’m assuming that’s you.) ;)

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