Wednesday, 16 November 2011
Tuesday, 15 November 2011
Do you live in the UK ?
If you believe what you read on the internet: the UK is predominantly uncut. What do you think ? Do you feel, as a circumcised man, to be in the "minority", or do you think that circumcision is more widespread, in the UK, than we are led to believe ?
Your experiences
As you are aware, I grew up having some major issues with being cut. Did any of you have similar issues ?
If so, please feel free to add your experiences in the "comments" field below:
If so, please feel free to add your experiences in the "comments" field below:
Routine circumcision
Now this is one contentious subject and one which I know will draw fire from the wooly-jumper brigade, but I do support routine circumcision.
The reason I support this, is simple. I watched my four year old son, suffer, for several months with phimosis.
Now those who have read my blog, will know that I was circumcised at a similar age and that I grew up being VERY resentful and angry at being "cut".
However, this opinion changed through a combination of my experiences with different sexual partners, maturity and most recently, through having to care for my son.
My son, Rhys, had difficulty in passing urine. His foreskin was severely inflamed and it was necessary to take him to our GP, for a consultation. Our GP, off the record of course (it is the NHS after all !), advised my wife and I that Rhys would probably have to be circumcised.
Despite accepting my own circumcision status, upon hearing our GP saying this, my heart sank. I became upset and openly began to weep. I immediately thought of the physical pain I felt, after the operation and the embarassment and exclusion I felt while growing up. I did not want this for Rhys.
The GP telephoned the local hospital and arranged for Rhys to be assessed by the paediatric surgical team, on duty.
Upon arriving at the hospital, we had to wait several hours before Rhys was even seen to. All the while, he was in pain and unable to pass urine properly (save for a slight dribble; even this caused his foreskin to "baloon").
The surgical registrar finally arrived and without going into too much detail (as this is a civil case which is still active), the registrar caused more harm than good; leaving Rhys in tremendous discomfort and completely traumatised. Needless to say, nothing was done for him accept being given a prescription of paracetomol and being sent on our way. (A junior doctor did advocate performing a dorsal slit, to which I told her to "get out of the room". Being circumcised is to be "different" enough, without having a slit running up the middle of your foreskin - those guys are even rarer around here !)
For several weeks, Rhys was in and out of hospital (twice as an emergency) and still, nothing seemed to be getting done for him. All the while, he was suffering tremendous discomfort.
Eventually, we received an out-patient's appointment for him to attend the clinic of a paediatric surgeon, who specialised in circumcision. The surgeon confirmed that Rhys had phimosis and suggested that he be circumcised.
The operation was performed three weeks later. All went well and Rhys has made a full recovery.
What annoys me is the procrastination of NHS "professionals" when dealing with incidents such as that with my son. I fear that the anti-circumcison lobby, such as NORM-UK, have become far too powerful and influential. There certainly seems to be a culture, in the NHS, to completely disown the procedure; a procedure which is sometimes entirely necessary, especially when a child is suffering.
Stretching, the use of steroid creams and even dorsal slits, are only protracting the inevitble.
Circumcision is certainly a taboo subject - even our GP (a middle-aged man who has spent the last thirty years as a GP and who, in fact, recommended that I be circumcised as a three year old) felt the need to whisper his belief that Rhys would have to be circumcised.
Parents have a responsibility to promote the well-being of their children. I honestly feel that routine circumcision, such as that performed in the United States, is a preventative measure against phimosis, as well as many other conditions/diseases in later life. Even the World Health Organisation (WHO) has advocated widespread circumcision in Africa, as a preventative measure.
The NHS is a wonderful concept and one which we Brits hold in sentimental regard. In reality, the notion of free at the point of use, universal healthcare is a romantic one (and one which struggles to cope with modern demand). The hard reality, of course, is that my son was allowed to needlessly suffer for several months because of the anti-circ, left-leaning political correctness of the NHS. Shame on them.
The reason I support this, is simple. I watched my four year old son, suffer, for several months with phimosis.
Now those who have read my blog, will know that I was circumcised at a similar age and that I grew up being VERY resentful and angry at being "cut".
However, this opinion changed through a combination of my experiences with different sexual partners, maturity and most recently, through having to care for my son.
My son, Rhys, had difficulty in passing urine. His foreskin was severely inflamed and it was necessary to take him to our GP, for a consultation. Our GP, off the record of course (it is the NHS after all !), advised my wife and I that Rhys would probably have to be circumcised.
Despite accepting my own circumcision status, upon hearing our GP saying this, my heart sank. I became upset and openly began to weep. I immediately thought of the physical pain I felt, after the operation and the embarassment and exclusion I felt while growing up. I did not want this for Rhys.
The GP telephoned the local hospital and arranged for Rhys to be assessed by the paediatric surgical team, on duty.
Upon arriving at the hospital, we had to wait several hours before Rhys was even seen to. All the while, he was in pain and unable to pass urine properly (save for a slight dribble; even this caused his foreskin to "baloon").
The surgical registrar finally arrived and without going into too much detail (as this is a civil case which is still active), the registrar caused more harm than good; leaving Rhys in tremendous discomfort and completely traumatised. Needless to say, nothing was done for him accept being given a prescription of paracetomol and being sent on our way. (A junior doctor did advocate performing a dorsal slit, to which I told her to "get out of the room". Being circumcised is to be "different" enough, without having a slit running up the middle of your foreskin - those guys are even rarer around here !)
For several weeks, Rhys was in and out of hospital (twice as an emergency) and still, nothing seemed to be getting done for him. All the while, he was suffering tremendous discomfort.
Eventually, we received an out-patient's appointment for him to attend the clinic of a paediatric surgeon, who specialised in circumcision. The surgeon confirmed that Rhys had phimosis and suggested that he be circumcised.
The operation was performed three weeks later. All went well and Rhys has made a full recovery.
What annoys me is the procrastination of NHS "professionals" when dealing with incidents such as that with my son. I fear that the anti-circumcison lobby, such as NORM-UK, have become far too powerful and influential. There certainly seems to be a culture, in the NHS, to completely disown the procedure; a procedure which is sometimes entirely necessary, especially when a child is suffering.
Stretching, the use of steroid creams and even dorsal slits, are only protracting the inevitble.
Circumcision is certainly a taboo subject - even our GP (a middle-aged man who has spent the last thirty years as a GP and who, in fact, recommended that I be circumcised as a three year old) felt the need to whisper his belief that Rhys would have to be circumcised.
Parents have a responsibility to promote the well-being of their children. I honestly feel that routine circumcision, such as that performed in the United States, is a preventative measure against phimosis, as well as many other conditions/diseases in later life. Even the World Health Organisation (WHO) has advocated widespread circumcision in Africa, as a preventative measure.
The NHS is a wonderful concept and one which we Brits hold in sentimental regard. In reality, the notion of free at the point of use, universal healthcare is a romantic one (and one which struggles to cope with modern demand). The hard reality, of course, is that my son was allowed to needlessly suffer for several months because of the anti-circ, left-leaning political correctness of the NHS. Shame on them.
Changing sides - how I went from opposing circumcision to advocating it
Since losing my virginity in 1997, I have had sexual intercourse with fifteen women. Some of them were typical "one-night stands"; while I enjoyed short and long-term relationships with four of these women.
What I have come to realise is that, with the exception of one of these women, I have not encountered any negative responses to my being circumcised. On the contrary, the one common denominator seems to be that they feel my penis is cleaner and tastes "nicer".
Now, these statements cannot and should not be conclusive "proof" that circumcised means clean; however, one must put things into context by saying that I live in south Wales, which like most of the United Kingdom, is predominantly non-circumcised. The town in which I live, has very little in the way of ethnic diversity and one would assume that circumcision is rare.
This, it would seem, is incorrect.
Aside from those who I have just had casual sex with; I have gauged the feelings of each of these women; their preference as well as their experience of men who are circumcised. It would seem that each of these women genuinely prefer a man to be circumcised. What did surprise me, however, was that each of the women (who ranged in age, from 19 to 35 years old) had "experience" of at least two men who had been circumcised. All of these women have lived in my home-town, all of their lives and likewise, had in the most part: only had sexual contact with local men.
One of the women (let's just call her "Leanne") had previously worked as a theatre nurse in the local hospital and informed me that circumcision was the most commonly performed surgery there and that there was one particular surgical team, at the hospital, that was predominantly made up of Muslim doctors and that they were responsible for the highest number of circumcisions, amongst the different surgical teams.
Although I am in favour of circumcision, I do not feel comfortable with the notion that religion may influence a surgical decision.
Those who have read my previous posts will note that I had been circumcised, at a young age and that I had grown up, feeling resentful and embarassed about being "cut". Indeed, I felt so embarassed that I developed a phobia of exposing my penis in normal settings, such as at a urinal or in a communal changing room.
However, my feelings toward the procedure have changed dramatically. This has been due to two things:
1. The positive response and support of nearly all my sexual partners
2. Becoming a father to two boys
I will tell you more, in just a bit ...
What I have come to realise is that, with the exception of one of these women, I have not encountered any negative responses to my being circumcised. On the contrary, the one common denominator seems to be that they feel my penis is cleaner and tastes "nicer".
Now, these statements cannot and should not be conclusive "proof" that circumcised means clean; however, one must put things into context by saying that I live in south Wales, which like most of the United Kingdom, is predominantly non-circumcised. The town in which I live, has very little in the way of ethnic diversity and one would assume that circumcision is rare.
This, it would seem, is incorrect.
Aside from those who I have just had casual sex with; I have gauged the feelings of each of these women; their preference as well as their experience of men who are circumcised. It would seem that each of these women genuinely prefer a man to be circumcised. What did surprise me, however, was that each of the women (who ranged in age, from 19 to 35 years old) had "experience" of at least two men who had been circumcised. All of these women have lived in my home-town, all of their lives and likewise, had in the most part: only had sexual contact with local men.
One of the women (let's just call her "Leanne") had previously worked as a theatre nurse in the local hospital and informed me that circumcision was the most commonly performed surgery there and that there was one particular surgical team, at the hospital, that was predominantly made up of Muslim doctors and that they were responsible for the highest number of circumcisions, amongst the different surgical teams.
Although I am in favour of circumcision, I do not feel comfortable with the notion that religion may influence a surgical decision.
Those who have read my previous posts will note that I had been circumcised, at a young age and that I had grown up, feeling resentful and embarassed about being "cut". Indeed, I felt so embarassed that I developed a phobia of exposing my penis in normal settings, such as at a urinal or in a communal changing room.
However, my feelings toward the procedure have changed dramatically. This has been due to two things:
1. The positive response and support of nearly all my sexual partners
2. Becoming a father to two boys
I will tell you more, in just a bit ...
How I got into this "kind of thing" - Part 2
After the experience in the changing room, I tried my very best to avoid any situation in which my cock was likely to be on show. Using the urinals was definitely out of the question.
Each Thursday, I would do my best to avoid the showers after P.E.: even going to such extreme lengths as keeping my sweat-soaked boxers on and even putting my uniform on, over my mud-stained body.
This continued for the next two years, until I turned sixteen and P.E. was no longer compulsory.
But then came Becky. Two years older than me, at eighteen Becky was not the most intelligent girl in the school, but she was steaming hot ! Like any self-respecting and warm-blooded sixteen year old, I wanted her so bad, but she seemed to be completely out of my league. Don't get me wrong, I am a pretty good-looking guy (apparently), but I always suffered verbal diorrhea when speaking with girls. My self-confidence had never really fully recovered since the day I was ridiculed in the changing room, but like any other lad my age, I had the over-whelming urge to lose my virginity and FAST !
It's fair to say that Becky had something of a reputation. Hey, she was an eighteen year old valleys girl !!!!!
Her reputation, as an "easy shag", was fuelled by persistent rumours that she had popped the cherry of almost every seventeen and eighteen year old guy in the sixth form.
Unfortunately, Becky was due to leave school at the end of term and before I entered the sixth form.
The summer holidays came and I managed to get a weekend packing job in a local factory. The job was boring, noisy and thanks to the twat of a supervisor, Dai; a miserable experience. I hated everything about this guy - he was loud, opinionated, bigoted and a bully. I hated the thought of going into work, until one Saturday when a familiar face turned up at the table next to me; Becky !
Like me, she soon formed a very negative opinion of Dai and this proved to be a golden opportunity to start a conversation. Soon, we were giggling together and to my astonishment, Becky offered me a lift home.
To cut a long story short, Becky and I did not stop flirting with each other from the moment we got in the car and it should come as no surprise that what should have been a ten minute journey turned into a sojourn onto Cwm Bargoed - a vast, bleak and isolated common above Merthyr. Not exactly backward in coming forward, Becky bluntly asked me if I wanted a blow job. I spluttered a positive response and she promptly began to lean across and began to undo my jeans. She then placed her hand inside my shorts and soon had my very erect penis in her hand. I closed my eyes and instead of hearing the much-anticipated sound of her sucking my dick: heard a sharp intake of breath.
I opened my eyes and saw Becky grinning as she carefully studied my cock. I asked "Is everything okay ?", to which she responded "Are you a Jew ?". I immediately became embarassed; not by the nature of her questioning whether my circumcision was as a result of a Jewish Bris, but by the fact that, yet again, it seemed that my penis was the subject of humorous curiosity. In short, I felt like a freak.
My penis started to become flacid and I awaited her telling me to zip up and get out of her car. Instead, Becky stroked my frenulum and with her free hand, stroked the side of my face. She said, "Don't be embarassed. I think it's nicer." I felt elated ! Soon, Becky was giving me a blow job. I had never had a b.j. before, so I couldn't compare Becky's performance. It's fair to say, however, that I was having the time of my life as Becky sucked my glans and teased my frenulum with the tip of her tongue. She was so considerate, as she seemed to respond to my reactions (i.e., each time she tried licking or touching a certain part of my dick that caused me to gasp or moan in pleasure, she would concentrate on that particular area).
Within a couple of minutes, I shouted "I'm gonna cum !" and for some reason, I attempted to pull my cock out of Becky's mouth (I am too polite !!!!!) Becky, however, did not care for my chivalry and as I shot (what seemed to be enormous load of spunk), she just swallowed it. It was amazing !!!!!!
Soon, Becky was driving me home and I met up with her several times, throughout the summer.
On the 24th August, 1997, I lost my virginity to Becky. Unfortunately, Becky went off to university in Newcastle and I did not see her again for several years.
Now, although this post has been quite graphic and probably sounds like a fantasy story; I have shared this experience in order to highlight the fact that, thanks to my experiences with Becky, I finally started to feel positive about being circumcised. The hang-ups I once had, seemed to dissipate the moment that Becky accepted the fact that I was sans-foreskin.
Although we both lived at home with our parents, Becky and I would often take advantage of our parents being in work, while we spent hours in bed. Becky appeared to be fascinated by my being circumcised and when we first started to go to bed with each other; would ask me some very probing questions about how I came to be circumcised.
At first, I was reluctant to divulge too much, in case she reacted negatively.
This was not to be the case, however; as Becky made me feel completely at ease and very slowly, got me to open up.
I hate to admit it, but I started to cry when I told her of what I remembered of the operation and of the negative experiences I had in the changing room. I also found myself venting my anger at being circumcised: the resentment I felt toward my parents for allowing this "mutilation" to happen to me; the feeling of being different to other guys, my phobia of using urinals and that I actually hated my penis.
Becky hugged me, tightly, as I broke down. It seemed that all this frustration and resentment had grown inside me and had been repressed for so long. For the first time, I was able to say how I felt.
Becky hanged on my every word and as I wiped the tears from my eyes, I glanced up at her and noticed that she too, was in tears.
I immediately felt guilty for burdening Becky with all my hang-ups and apologised to her. She responded in typical valleys fashion, by saying "Shut up you daft fucker", before grabbing hold of me tight and kissing me. She then rubbed her fingers through my hair and whispered, "You're okay", before saying to me, in an assertive tone, "You are completely normal".
She further went on to tell me that my penis was one of the "cleanest" she had ever sucked (and believe me, Becky had probably sucked dozens, by this point); before dropping a bombshell ...
Apparently, Becky's brother was also circumcised. This was significant, as he was one of my changing room tormentors and it also transpired that at least three more guys, in the class, had also "been cut".
It then dawned on me. Had I allowed my embarassment to take charge and strip me of rationality ?
The changing room experience had changed my personality. Perhaps I should have just percevered and just got into the communal showers. I may not have been that "different", after all !
Each Thursday, I would do my best to avoid the showers after P.E.: even going to such extreme lengths as keeping my sweat-soaked boxers on and even putting my uniform on, over my mud-stained body.
This continued for the next two years, until I turned sixteen and P.E. was no longer compulsory.
But then came Becky. Two years older than me, at eighteen Becky was not the most intelligent girl in the school, but she was steaming hot ! Like any self-respecting and warm-blooded sixteen year old, I wanted her so bad, but she seemed to be completely out of my league. Don't get me wrong, I am a pretty good-looking guy (apparently), but I always suffered verbal diorrhea when speaking with girls. My self-confidence had never really fully recovered since the day I was ridiculed in the changing room, but like any other lad my age, I had the over-whelming urge to lose my virginity and FAST !
It's fair to say that Becky had something of a reputation. Hey, she was an eighteen year old valleys girl !!!!!
Her reputation, as an "easy shag", was fuelled by persistent rumours that she had popped the cherry of almost every seventeen and eighteen year old guy in the sixth form.
Unfortunately, Becky was due to leave school at the end of term and before I entered the sixth form.
The summer holidays came and I managed to get a weekend packing job in a local factory. The job was boring, noisy and thanks to the twat of a supervisor, Dai; a miserable experience. I hated everything about this guy - he was loud, opinionated, bigoted and a bully. I hated the thought of going into work, until one Saturday when a familiar face turned up at the table next to me; Becky !
Like me, she soon formed a very negative opinion of Dai and this proved to be a golden opportunity to start a conversation. Soon, we were giggling together and to my astonishment, Becky offered me a lift home.
To cut a long story short, Becky and I did not stop flirting with each other from the moment we got in the car and it should come as no surprise that what should have been a ten minute journey turned into a sojourn onto Cwm Bargoed - a vast, bleak and isolated common above Merthyr. Not exactly backward in coming forward, Becky bluntly asked me if I wanted a blow job. I spluttered a positive response and she promptly began to lean across and began to undo my jeans. She then placed her hand inside my shorts and soon had my very erect penis in her hand. I closed my eyes and instead of hearing the much-anticipated sound of her sucking my dick: heard a sharp intake of breath.
I opened my eyes and saw Becky grinning as she carefully studied my cock. I asked "Is everything okay ?", to which she responded "Are you a Jew ?". I immediately became embarassed; not by the nature of her questioning whether my circumcision was as a result of a Jewish Bris, but by the fact that, yet again, it seemed that my penis was the subject of humorous curiosity. In short, I felt like a freak.
My penis started to become flacid and I awaited her telling me to zip up and get out of her car. Instead, Becky stroked my frenulum and with her free hand, stroked the side of my face. She said, "Don't be embarassed. I think it's nicer." I felt elated ! Soon, Becky was giving me a blow job. I had never had a b.j. before, so I couldn't compare Becky's performance. It's fair to say, however, that I was having the time of my life as Becky sucked my glans and teased my frenulum with the tip of her tongue. She was so considerate, as she seemed to respond to my reactions (i.e., each time she tried licking or touching a certain part of my dick that caused me to gasp or moan in pleasure, she would concentrate on that particular area).
Within a couple of minutes, I shouted "I'm gonna cum !" and for some reason, I attempted to pull my cock out of Becky's mouth (I am too polite !!!!!) Becky, however, did not care for my chivalry and as I shot (what seemed to be enormous load of spunk), she just swallowed it. It was amazing !!!!!!
Soon, Becky was driving me home and I met up with her several times, throughout the summer.
On the 24th August, 1997, I lost my virginity to Becky. Unfortunately, Becky went off to university in Newcastle and I did not see her again for several years.
Now, although this post has been quite graphic and probably sounds like a fantasy story; I have shared this experience in order to highlight the fact that, thanks to my experiences with Becky, I finally started to feel positive about being circumcised. The hang-ups I once had, seemed to dissipate the moment that Becky accepted the fact that I was sans-foreskin.
Although we both lived at home with our parents, Becky and I would often take advantage of our parents being in work, while we spent hours in bed. Becky appeared to be fascinated by my being circumcised and when we first started to go to bed with each other; would ask me some very probing questions about how I came to be circumcised.
At first, I was reluctant to divulge too much, in case she reacted negatively.
This was not to be the case, however; as Becky made me feel completely at ease and very slowly, got me to open up.
I hate to admit it, but I started to cry when I told her of what I remembered of the operation and of the negative experiences I had in the changing room. I also found myself venting my anger at being circumcised: the resentment I felt toward my parents for allowing this "mutilation" to happen to me; the feeling of being different to other guys, my phobia of using urinals and that I actually hated my penis.
Becky hugged me, tightly, as I broke down. It seemed that all this frustration and resentment had grown inside me and had been repressed for so long. For the first time, I was able to say how I felt.
Becky hanged on my every word and as I wiped the tears from my eyes, I glanced up at her and noticed that she too, was in tears.
I immediately felt guilty for burdening Becky with all my hang-ups and apologised to her. She responded in typical valleys fashion, by saying "Shut up you daft fucker", before grabbing hold of me tight and kissing me. She then rubbed her fingers through my hair and whispered, "You're okay", before saying to me, in an assertive tone, "You are completely normal".
She further went on to tell me that my penis was one of the "cleanest" she had ever sucked (and believe me, Becky had probably sucked dozens, by this point); before dropping a bombshell ...
Apparently, Becky's brother was also circumcised. This was significant, as he was one of my changing room tormentors and it also transpired that at least three more guys, in the class, had also "been cut".
It then dawned on me. Had I allowed my embarassment to take charge and strip me of rationality ?
The changing room experience had changed my personality. Perhaps I should have just percevered and just got into the communal showers. I may not have been that "different", after all !
Saturday, 12 November 2011
How I got into this "kind of thing" - Part 1
As I am about to lay bare some very personal information, about myself; I may as well tell you that my name is Jordan, I am thirty years old and live in south Wales.
When I was three years old, I remember finding it very difficult to pee. My mum was (and still is !) very much the typical over-protective Welsh Mammy and consequently, she whipped me down to the health centre, to see our family GP. The next thing I knew, I was being checked in to the local hospital a couple of days later, where I had my dick being constantly poked, pulled and gawped at !
Up to this point, I don't think that anybody had told me what I was actually in hospital for.
The very next day, I can recall being taken on a trolley down to the theatre; being put to sleep and waking up SCREAMING, as a nurse wrapped a dressing around my stinging penis.
Being all of three years of age, I had no real idea of what I had just gone through: except that my penis was hurting and that I wanted my mum. Within about a week or so (a week where I remember being pampered by everyone !), I returned to school; still completely oblivious to the significance of the surgery I just had.
Fast forward to September 1992. I was eleven years old and had just started comprehensive school and for the first time, had to shower with other boys after P.E.
I couldn't help but notice that, of the fifteen or so boys in the changing room, my dick looked very different - something which immediately caught the attention of the gobbiest boy in the class; who eloquently shouted "Fucking hell. Look at Davies's cock !" Like a plague of locusts descending on a field of crops, I was surrounded by the entire class, all staring at my dick: some pointing and laughing, while the others bombarded me with questions, like "Did you get it cuaght in your flies ?", "Did someone burn the end of your knob ?" and my favourite, "Where's the rest of it ?"
If I hadn't felt self-conscious before, about being circumcised, I was now !
When I was three years old, I remember finding it very difficult to pee. My mum was (and still is !) very much the typical over-protective Welsh Mammy and consequently, she whipped me down to the health centre, to see our family GP. The next thing I knew, I was being checked in to the local hospital a couple of days later, where I had my dick being constantly poked, pulled and gawped at !
Up to this point, I don't think that anybody had told me what I was actually in hospital for.
The very next day, I can recall being taken on a trolley down to the theatre; being put to sleep and waking up SCREAMING, as a nurse wrapped a dressing around my stinging penis.
Being all of three years of age, I had no real idea of what I had just gone through: except that my penis was hurting and that I wanted my mum. Within about a week or so (a week where I remember being pampered by everyone !), I returned to school; still completely oblivious to the significance of the surgery I just had.
Fast forward to September 1992. I was eleven years old and had just started comprehensive school and for the first time, had to shower with other boys after P.E.
I couldn't help but notice that, of the fifteen or so boys in the changing room, my dick looked very different - something which immediately caught the attention of the gobbiest boy in the class; who eloquently shouted "Fucking hell. Look at Davies's cock !" Like a plague of locusts descending on a field of crops, I was surrounded by the entire class, all staring at my dick: some pointing and laughing, while the others bombarded me with questions, like "Did you get it cuaght in your flies ?", "Did someone burn the end of your knob ?" and my favourite, "Where's the rest of it ?"
If I hadn't felt self-conscious before, about being circumcised, I was now !
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