06x03 - vag*na Shame

[bunniefuu]

[Rita] Ah, the vag*na.

Look at it.

We're quite unaccustomed

to facing it so directly, aren't we?

So mysterious is the vag*na,

tucked away, perfectly out of sight.

So very within.

I'm Rita St. Swithens,

and I'm here to take you on a journey

to the underbelly of the human carriage.

The perfect breeding ground

for that most potent of all emotions,

shame.

Of course, not all women have vaginas

and not all people with vaginas are women,

but as Jeff Foxworthy famously never said,

"If you've got the blues,

you might have a cooze."

So, strap in your labia and join me,

the grand dame of humiliation,

for a very special episode of Big Mouth,

"vag*na Shame."

I'm going through changes ♪

I'm going through changes ♪

Oh, in my life ♪

[Rita] Meet Jessica Cobain Glazer.

Jessi.

A pubescent girl

already very much steeped in shame.

By her 13th year, she had it all.

Divorced parents,

a series of romantic failures,

and a vibrant relationship

with both anxiety and depression.

But all that seemed very far away

at the moment,

because Jessi had found happiness in,

of all places,

the Eddie Bauer catalog.

These new leggings

are the f*cking best, right?

Mm. They make your butt

look like a little crab apple.

Thank you, Connie.

I guess that's a good thing, right?

Crab and apple?

That's surf and turf, baby.

[Rita] Jessi was living in tight quarters

with her pothead father

and his pregnant girlfriend, Caitlin,

also known as "The Cheese Girl."

Whoa! [chuckling]

I can't believe molten lava cake

made the front page of the Fearless Flyer.

The Fearless Flyer

is a collection of coupons

and advertisements for Trader Joe's.

Greg thinks it's the newspaper.

-I'll be home for dinner.

-Hope you like microwave cake.

Jess, um, if you want me

to wash your leggings,

I can just throw them in with my laundry.

-Are you saying my leggings look dirty?

-No, girl. No.

It's just you've been wearing them

for a few days, so I just thought

I washed them while you were sleeping,

'cause you actually sleep, like, a lot.

A flagrant but necessary lie,

as Caitlin must always be wrong.

Such is the way.

Yeah, we don't make the rules.

We're just a little girl.

So in a delightful mélange

of low self-esteem

and righteous indignation,

Jessi kept wearing those leggings for days

and days

and days.

And on the 11th day, came the itching.

Okay, yeah, um

Something is not what you would call

"kosher" down there, Connie.

Ooh, I have an idea.

Grab that skeleton and use

one of his bonies to scratch your yoni.

[Jessi's vag*na] Yoo-hoo, Jessi.

-Down here.

-Hey.

Do me a favor.

Scratch me like a Powerball ticket

and I'll make you feel

like a million bucks. I promise.

Maybe if I just try grinding

the spine of this textbook

a little harder into my crotch.

Uh, you sure you wanna do that?

Anyone sees you, next thing you know,

you're the girl who fucks books.

[Jessi's vag*na] Uh, Jessi, still here.

If you could just reach down

and gouge my eyes out,

it would be much appreciated.

Ms. B, I have to go to the bathroom.

[panting]

[Connie] Run, book fucker. Run.

[Jessi grunts]

Joojle "itchy vag*na, why?"

-I'm trying.

-Don't think, just Joojle.

Okay. Itchy vag*na. Possible causes:

vaginosis, vaginitis, so many cancers.

In the meantime, could you scratch me

so hard you rip my f*cking face off?

Man, now I have to pee.

Wash it out from the inside.

Maybe the piss

will be cooling and soothing.

Good idea. Maybe. Let's see.

[screams]

[Jessi's vag*na] It burns like devil fire!

Dearest Satan,

I will allow you to lay with me

if you take away this unholy ailment.

I will take in your evil seed.

I will bear your wicked spawn.

Okay, look, look, look.

There's a pop-up ad.

"Vagisil." That looks promising.

Yes. Let's get your vagie sealed.

[grunts] Don't you die on me.

Help is coming.

Jessi was in need of guidance,

but Shannon was busy working,

because, well, she's that kind of mother.

-[beeps]

-Uh, hey, Mom. I just, um

If you get this, call me back.

I've got a kind of like a little itchy,

burning question for you.

Oh my God.

[Jessi's vag*na] Jessi, scratch harder,

or I'm gonna stop being Mrs. Nice vag*na

and start being

[in evil voice] Beatrice!

Who the f*ck is Beatrice?

No, no, no, no, no.

She's my evil twin, Jessi.

And trust me, you do not wanna meet her.

Come on,

let's check the busted vag*na department.

Ah, yes, the feminine hygiene aisle.

An entire section of the store

designed to convince women

their vaginas are repulsive

in their natural state.

[chuckles]

-Hey, awesome girl boss.

-Uh, hi.

Are you feeling itchy

with vaginal dryness and unpleasant odors?

I think I smell regular?

-Oh, regular, that's no good.

-Really?

You wanna smell

like wild country lavender.

Lavender? Okay.

Women should have the aroma

of a drawer full of tablecloths.

That's what clean smells like.

-Hey. Sweetheart.

-Oh, hi.

What you really need

is to flush out your whole situation

with my fresh apricot wash.

Woof. A douche?

Trust me, guys love the taste of apricot.

Ew. My God.

Oh, that's actually a real advertisement.

[chuckles]

I don't need to invent any of this.

Joojle it.

[Jessi's vag*na]

Oh, Jessi, just pick something.

Beatrice, she's coming.

[Beatrice] Knock, knock.

Open the door, you busted-ass bitch.

Beatrice is knocking, Jessi.

Steal those wipes.

There's not a jury in this land

that would convict you.

And so, just like that,

the book fucker

becomes a Swipes Wipes swiper.

[exhales]

Okay, this isn't doing anything

except make me smell like

Huh, kiwi banana birthday cake?

Two words, and I just want you

to let me say them. Industrial sander.

Oh no. What is that?

Okay, this is gonna sound weird, Jessi,

but did you order

a side of cottage cheese at a diner

and somehow,

it got delivered to your underwear?

I don't feel so good.

Okay. I'll just clean you,

like really, really, really well.

Yes, scour her like she's a dirty pan

filled with burnt lasagna.

Yeah! Scrub faster. Scrub harder.

-I can't. I'm going as hard as I can.

-[Jessi's vag*na] Scrub me raw.

[Beatrice] You dumbass ginger bitch.

-Holy sh*t, it's Beatrice.

-Oh no.

That's right, Jessi.

I've been dying to meet you.

And now, I'm gonna sh**t myself

in the f*cking face.

-Oh my God, she's got a g*n.

-Beatrice is packing.

One of us dies tonight.

I, for one, am ready for the darkness.

Give me that tiny g*n, Your Vaginess.

Is this what you want? Huh?

You little f*cking psycho.

-No.

-You want this?

You're k*lling your own p*ssy!

-[Beatrice cackles]

-[groaning]

So sad about Jessi,

attacking her own deranged genitalia

with a loofah.

[chuckles]

Shame, really.

But I ask you this.

What if we traveled a few inches

north of the vulva to the mons pubis,

where the hair grows curly

and the shame grows thick.

Case study number two:

Lola Ugfuglio Skumpy.

Thirteen, unsupervised,

unparented, and unshorn.

It was Wednesday night,

and Lola's mother was in Racine, Wisconsin

fornicating with the band Hoobastank.

So that could mean

only one thing for dear Lola,

Hot Pockets and free Internet p*rn.

[man moans] We better hurry up and f*ck

before Mom and Dad get home.

[woman] My mom and your dad,

because I'm your stepsister.

Oh, okay, good,

they're not blood relatives,

so this is, like, totally copacetic.

[man] Oh, it's so convenient

banging somebody

-who lives in the same house.

-[woman] Mm-hmm.

We're saving so much money on gas.

Looking closely.

Picking up on a trend. Huh?

All the women in p*rn are, like, smooth

as a dolphin's cooch down there.

Your Majesty, you realize

this is not how most women naturally look.

What do you know, you stupid pube?

Well, you said it yourself, milady.

We are, in fact, pubic hair.

And we have guarded crotches

since the beginning of time.

Ah, yes, we have, indeed.

Sworn to protect human genitals

from dirt and debris.

Like falling leaves.

Okay, sure, falling leaves.

But we also secrete sebum,

a special oil that prevents

dangerous bacteria from reproducing.

We are natural protection

from falling leaves,

wind-blown leaves,

leaves that a gardener might foist

Balthasar! Enough with the leaves, man.

Okay. Like, I guess

you do have my best interests at heart.

But look at this

absolute array of thumbnails.

There's nary a bush in the bunch.

Is that, like, what men want?

Well, that is more difficult to say,

my queen.

We are merely pubes, after all.

Genital shields

from that most perilous of hazards

Do not say falling leaves.

I don't have to, for you just did.

[groans] Balthasar!

[Rita] Although Ms. Skumpy

was briefly mollified

by the noble knights of St. Joseph,

fate stepped in a few days later

in the form of a Robert Altman film

and the idle musings

of a few teenage boys.

So then, Julianne Moore steps out,

naked as Winnie the Pooh

from the waist down.

And get this, fellas.

She's sporting a full red bush.

Ew.

Right? Is that right?

Yeah, ew.

Women are supposed to be like seals.

Totally smooth, good with balls,

and always clapping for you.

I'd tell you to stop quoting

your dad's law commercials, Jay,

but this time, I think you might be right.

Oh no, a jury of my boy peers

has reached a unanimous verdict.

My pubes are, like, guilty of being there.

There was only one thing left

for the poor child to do.

I beg you, Your Majesty,

please spare our lives.

We were placed on your pubic mound

by God himself.

I'm sorry. You've served me with valor,

but society has, like, spoken.

-Off with their heads!

-[cheering]

My queen, we beseech you.

We've served you faithfully,

lo these many years.

Who cares? k*ll 'em.

-We came for an execution.

-Laser them.

Please, Your Highness, I beg of you.

What if you're reading nude beneath a tree

and a most pointy leaf falls?

That's not helping us, Balthasar.

Now.

[cheering]

Balthasar? Leandre?

Are you there?

Oh no, I've m*rder*d my pubes.

[gasps] And here comes a leaf.

I am but a deer in headlights,

paralyzed with fear.

Ouch.

It's as Balthasar foretold.

Whatever do I do now? [cries]

Now, Lola, you wait for them

to painfully grow back in.

And then you'll pluck and shave

and buff and shine all over again,

not completely understanding

why you're even doing it.

Mm, that's some delicious shame.

Now, I ask you,

these boys who compelled Ms. Skumpy

to shave her mound,

do they even know

what a vag*na looks like?

[chuckles] A vag*na?

Well, no.

I mean, I've never seen one up close,

but I bet I could draw one.

Huh, huh.

And there we go.

Wow. Okay. Well, that's not not hot.

Will Netflix be allowed to show this?

vag*na?

Why would you even say that?

That's none of my business.

That's why they invented

the bathroom door.

-[tires squeal]

-Now, get outta my car, you sicko.

I call them sweeties.

Hey Hey, does anybody know

what happened

to that vag*na that Nick drew?

Does she have a sister?

[Rita] Case study number three:

Missy Foreman-Greenwald.

Roiling with hormones,

a girl struggling, as all 13-year-olds do,

with issues of identity,

issues of self-esteem,

issues with her parents,

it goes without saying.

But on this day,

issues of feeling very much behind.

Just got a cool bathroom surprise.

Anyone have a tampon?

Rooting, rifling

Sorry, I don't really keep extras.

I like to live on the edge,

you know, ruin my underpants.

Sorry, babe. I used my last super

to sop up a mango Spindrift

I absolutely toppled. [chuckles]

[Rita] From Missy's vantage,

the answer to who was menstruating

was simply everyone.

Everyone but poor her.

Look at them. They're such women.

Probing their pocketbooks

as they hunt for that ultimate totem

of womanhood, the blood cigar.

And I'm such a little baby

with my bone-dry uterus.

Quick, pretend to look for a tampon.

-You have one in there, Missy?

-Oh, sh*t.

-Tell her anything but the truth.

-Well No.

I could, but I don't,

because for my monthly periods,

-I use a DivaCup.

-Ooh.

I'm a DivaCup wearer.

That's a big swing, darling.

Ew. You use a DivaCup?

With gusto. [chuckles]

It's as quick

and easy to use as a Keurig pod.

But instead of coffee,

when I pop that bad boy in,

my cup is filled to the brim

-with bright red Missy juice.

-Whoa.

-Oh, for f*ck's sake.

-I've never met anyone who uses a cup.

Well, now you have.

It's a big part of my identity.

Okay, they bought it. Now stop talking.

And since the silence is deafening

[chuckles]

uh, you should know

that my mom uses one too.

What are you doing?

Okay, so you and your mom

collect your blood in a cup every month?

Yes, it connects us

to the cycle of the moon.

In fact, when I first got my period,

probably at least several months

before you did, Devin,

we had a First Moon ceremony

to celebrate my ascension to womanhood.

As your hormone monstress

and your attorney,

I am begging you to shut up.

So, no, Ali, just circling back,

I do not have a tampon.

I'm sorry. I'm a DivaCup diva.

Smell you later. [groans]

Oh, we Shame Wizards love a good lie,

a little pockmark on the soul, festering.

And not long after,

Missy's lies would catch up with her.

Okay, en conversación, por favor,

tell your partner

how you would have stopped 9/11.

Oh, I feel kinda sick.

Maybe it was the extra bowl of bran pulp?

When will your family learn

there's such a thing as too much fiber?

You're not pandas.

I really gotta poop.

Señor Arroyo,

what level of government clearance

do I have in this hypothetical?

Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh.

En Español, Caleb.

Can I please use the bathroom?

En Español, Señiorita Foreman-Verdewald.

El baño, por favor.

Numero dos grande, man.

[groaning]

Holy crap. Did I crap myself?

Happens to the best of us, darling.

How the heck did I poop my pants

and not even know it?

-Smell it. Smell the poop.

-Why?

You know you want to.

This isn't poop.

I think it's blood.

Like dark, thick, gloopy blood.

Is that your period?

Take a sh*t and smell that.

Compare the two.

Aw! It feels like

there's a wicked little doll in there

trying to s*ab its way out.

Oh God, you're pale

and sweating and shaking.

You look like Prince Andrew

getting interviewed.

This can't be my period.

My mom said I'd become one with the moon.

She promised

a glorious ascension into womanhood.

But this is

a dismal descent into diarrhea.

[groaning]

[Rita] But alas, Missy couldn't confess

her agony to any of her friends.

She was trapped in a prison

of her own menstrual lies.

Hey, there, sweetie.

That show you like

where they breakdance to math problems

is about to start on PBS Kids.

Not interested.

[Rita] Missy's mother

had gotten sufficiently used to this

as Missy's 13th year

had become increasingly trying.

I just hate you. No one talk to me.

I don't wanna make my own raisins.

[groaning]

-Yuck.

-What are you doing?

You're not putting

your bloody panties in there, are you?

Where should I put them?

Hide them. Deep in the trash bin.

Oh yeah, good call.

Well done, Missy.

Your secret is safe

beneath a pile of bamboo tissues

-and compostable dental floss.

-[sighs]

I wish I could compost

my whole stupid body.

[Rita] There Missy lay,

simmering in a toxic stew

of pain, secrets, rage, and lies.

The perfect recipe

for a bouillabaisse of shame.

f*ck you, moon.

[knocking on door]

Missy?

Oh, go away.

Sweetheart, did you get your period?

Ew, Mom, you pulled them out of the trash?

Why wouldn't you share

such wonderful news?

Because it's gross and painful and brown

and nothing like you said it would be.

-Oh, honey. I

-Why didn't you prepare me for this?

-You lied to me.

-I didn't lie.

I'm not a moon goddess.

I'm a diarrhea fountain.

I just wanted you to feel like

getting your period

was a wonderful rite of passage.

Well, lady, you got it 100% wrong.

I'm sorry, I've never had

a 13-year-old girl before.

But you were one.

And I want your life

to be better than mine.

You know what happened

when I got my period?

Didn't you, like,

merge with the Earth, or whatever?

My mother slapped me

and said, "Mazel tov."

Open hand right across the face.

Why?

Some Jewish tradition

-about bringing the blood back to my face.

-What?

Also, your bubbe

was a terrible bitch and an awful woman.

May she rest in peace.

[groans]

-It feels like a wicked doll is stabbing

-Is stabbing you from the inside?

Yes.

I'll tell you what.

I'm going to give you a couple Advil

from my private stash.

You take Advil?

Every g*dd*mn month.

But Dad says all the medicine we need

can be found in the earth.

Yeah, well, he's never had cramps

that make it feel

-like your anus is gonna explode.

-[chuckles]

I know it doesn't feel like it,

but your period is a beautiful thing.

I'm grateful for mine

because it reminds me

of how my body made you.

Oh, Mom.

Can I please hug you?

Can we check in after you get the Advil?

Not every vag*na shame story

ends tragically.

Unfortunately.

Now, I wager you're thinking

at least vag*na shame goes away

as you become an adult.

Well, as usual,

you're wrong and you look foolish.

Case study number four: Caitlin Grafton.

Remember her?

"The Cheese Girl" from Jessi's house?

Caitlin is 26 years old,

seven months pregnant

and about to get some very troubling news.

Caitlin, I'm looking

at your ultrasound results.

Sweet, sweet.

Is everything chill in there?

Well, have you ever heard of CPD?

Oh, sure, California Pizza Ditchen.

No. Cephalopelvic disproportion.

It means your pelvis

is too small to safely deliver vaginally.

Oh my. Who knew it could be too small?

Caitlin, I would strongly consider

a C-section,

both for your safety and the baby's.

Oh. But I have a natural birth plan.

Yeah, I was gonna take my shirt off

and play harmonica,

like, right in the baby's face.

Okay. Yeah, I think it's time

to make a different plan.

A C-section? Oh no.

I didn't even wanna get an epidural, man.

Oh dear,

Caitlin has a defective birth canal. Hmm.

But at least she has the support

of an aging, stoned doofus.

[chuckles]

Babe, I just don't get

why it's such a big deal.

Oh, you don't get why it's a big deal?

No, I mean, yeah, it's a bummer

that you need to have a C-section

Oh, it's a "bummer," Greg. Uh-huh.

Are you sure it's not a "major bummer"?

I don't wanna say something,

but I also don't wanna not say something?

I just really didn't want a C-section.

I wanted to give birth naturally,

the way women have been doing

for millions of years.

I feel like a failure,

and you obviously don't understand.

Okay, okay, but on the bright side,

when the baby comes out,

your vag*na won't be, um m*nled?

Oh, f*ck you.

Sorry, not m*nled.

Uh.

Exploded?

-[door opens and closes]

-[Caitlin] Ugh!

I find Greg to be very special.

-[crying]

-As Caitlin waddled to the loo,

she was positive that no one on Earth

felt quite as terrible as she did

about their sweetie.

Cool. The lady Shane Lizard used my word.

All right, okay.

[evil laughing]

I'm winning.

You shut up, Beatrice. Hey.

Oh God, I'm sorry, I just

-Oh. Jessi, honey, what's wrong?

-[crying]

Her vag*na's gone crazy.

Jessi's vag*na doesn't live here anymore.

There is only Beatrice.

I'm itching, and it burns, and there's

this horrible, gross gunk in my underwear.

It's like a scoop of ricotta

in a cotton hammock.

I don't know if I have vaginitis

or cancer or vag*na cancer or what.

Oh, babe, no.

No, no, don't worry.

That's just a yeast infection.

A yeast infection?

Cool. Cool name.

Ooh. And you used these wipes?

Yeah, and they made things even worse.

[barking]

Yeah, the wipes totally suck.

But I've actually got something

in here for you.

I feel disgusting. Am I disgusting?

No, no, you are not disgusting.

You're just a girl

who wore her leggings too long.

We should have listened to you.

It's just that we think you f*cking suck.

Here you go. This is called Monistat.

Oh no, not Monistat. No.

The cream will really help you

with that itch.

[whimpering] Wow.

Oh, this sh*t works.

Jessi, you buy a truckload of this stuff

because Mama likes Monistat.

Mama likes.

Oh, thank God. Beatrice is gone.

-[crying]

-Oh.

Oh, Caitlin, don't worry.

Beatrice isn't a real person.

She's just, like, an evil spirit

that lives in my vag*na.

No, it's not that.

I have CPD.

You mean California Pizza Ditchen?

It means I need to have a C-section.

And I wanted to have a natural birth.

And this just It wasn't my plan.

Oh sh*t, I'm sorry.

That really sucks, Caitlin.

Yes. That's the correct response.

Thank you.

You know, I was a C-section baby.

-Wait, really?

-Yeah.

Wow.

Well, knowing you're a C-section baby

actually makes me feel a little better.

-Really?

-Yeah.

Like, maybe this kid

will be as awesome as you are.

Oh, thank you.

Okay, hold up. Do we like Caitlin now?

I don't know, kinda.

[Jessi's vag*na]

Personally, I'm obsessed with her.

And hey, guys,

can we be real for a second?

Sure, talking vag*na, let's be real.

I'm just a muscular, elastic organ,

you know,

like any other part of your body.

I'm capable of great pleasure,

and yeah, sometimes,

itchy, horrible red-hot pain.

But all the baggage

that society puts on me,

you know, that is what really stinks.

So you know what?

Maybe it's society that needs to douche.

Yeah. Douche society.

And after all that,

you still got a problem with vaginas?

Then you can go ahead

and kiss my neighbor. [chuckles]

-She's talking about your assh*le.

-Yeah, I got that one.

Bring it in. Come on, right here.

[Jessi's vag*na] I love you guys.

Alas, camaraderie, compassion, and empathy

are the cruel enemies of shame.

But don't worry about me.

I've got a few tricks up my vag*na.

I feel so much better.

Oh, me too.

I'm sorry I pulled a g*n on you.

-Hey, don't b*at yourself up. It happens.

-[phone rings]

Jessi. Hi. Is everything okay?

I have a new phone and I didn't see

the little notification thingy.

No. No, it's it's fine.

I had a yeast infection,

but, um, Caitlin helped.

Oh, Caitlin helped. That's great.

Yeah. I mean, just because

she was here, you know. Is that okay?

Of course. Jessi, it's great.

It's a great, great thing

to have the help of Caitlin.

Uh, I'm sorry.

Don't be. I'm sorry.

I should've been there for you.

You're obviously upset. I'm really sorry.

I'm sorry if you think I'm upset.

I'm a terrible mother.

No, you're an amazing mother.

I think I'm a really bad daughter.

I'm gonna do better.

I should've helped you

figure out your phone.

Okay, I'm gonna figure out the phone.

Did you see?

Did you see what happened there?

Shame doesn't just go away.

It adapts,

and comes back stronger than ever.

Such is the enduring power

of Women and Shame,

available now, in all women's minds,

always and everywhere.

Also, at Amazon.

And yes, you should feel bad

about shopping there.

[laughs]

[whimsical music playing]