Reading Jean Toomer thinking about the dense dumplings thumping around in my uterus. I imagine them meeting, kissing, touching, becoming one. A uterine lining lava lamp! They say my uterus is oversized. Should be the size the size of my fist, but mine is much larger, It is a militant uterus. Ready for war, ready to fight, ready for conception. But somehow it always ejects the fetus. That girl is just as confused as the rest of us. Some say women get fibroids because the uterus just wants to be full with something. Don’t we all? “African-American women (which I am not, by definition), tend to get them more than women of other races. We are not sure why.” Let’s see- the diet? What if I told you I didn’t like fried chicken or watermelon? I don’t get relaxers either. What else you got? The tennis balls in my belly are just plain rude. I can get a hysterectomy, but then early menopause would be waiting around the corner for me like an eager kid playing a game of hide and seek. I hear yams are a good remedy for menopausal symptoms. Right back to Africa. Every time I get out, they pull me right back in.