The first order of business in these workout sessions for your yoni is a long interview with your kinésthérapeute. You’re asked about the current state of the muscles down there, if you had a complicated delivery, if you’re experiencing incontinence, and some mysterious questions about organ descent, which the French are extremely paranoid about. Then, you guessed it—it’s “take off your pants and underwear” time. Because these sessions usually begin during a woman’s maternity leave, most offices allow you to bring your baby with you. So now you’re half naked while a strange woman probes your hoo-hoo, and your little one looks on from the stroller, adding a whole new level of weirdness.
There are two methods for the re-education itself, manual and biofeedback, and most kinés use a combination of the two. The first is just what it sounds like: The therapist inserts two fingers into your wuzza and talks you through a series of exercises designed to give you better control over your muscles. Can you, for example, contract your vagina and pull her fingers in and up? You may find this cringingly embarrassing, especially when afterward she tells you, “C’est assez faible” (“It’s rather weak”) and that you’re going to need more than 10 sessions.
The biofeedback method is somewhat less embarrassing but a little more terrifying, in that it requires buying a “sonde,” or (as it says on the package) an electronic vaginal re-educator. A sonde is a little dildo with electrodes coming out of it that the kiné inserts into your shnush, then hooks up to a laptop that records the force of your internal contractions. You can watch how hard your muscles are working on the screen and even play little video games using the sonde as a joystick. I played a Pole Position game at my last session, and a friend played what I can only call Cooter Pac-Man.
I finished up my most recent session with a set of moneymaker burpees, in which I had to try to contract my muscles halfway, then fully, then halfway, then relax. And I totally sucked at this. My daughter, who is 3 months old now, is just learning hand-eye coordination, straining to close her hand around a toy in front of her. I knew just how she felt as I tried to get my bajinga to obey; up until that moment, I couldn’t remember trying to voluntarily make these muscles move. The whole thing made me laugh, one of those combination laughs of embarrassment, absurdity, and despair that I find myself emitting all the time in France. (I’m sure there’s a compound German word for it.) It was so hard, and so ridiculous—what was I doing with no pants on in this Haussmanian office building while a strange French woman kept telling me to breathe and contract, “soufflez … et contractez!” over and over again?
But you know what? Despite the occasional embarrassment, these sessions actually work. There haven’t been extensive studies done, but what studies exist show that la rééducation significantly reduces incontinence and pelvic pain at nine months after giving birth. Frankly, I’m happy there’s a medical professional paying attention to what happened down there. Rééducation périnéale gets scoffed at in American and Canadian publications as one of the most lurid examples of the indulgent French welfare state, but as far as I can tell, we do exactly nothing in the United States to help women get back into shape after giving birth.
An American woman gets her six-week postpartum checkup and, if nothing is seriously wrong, she’s cleared to have sex again and sent on her way. If she’s lucky, the doctor or midwife reminds her to do her Kegel exercises, but without much guidance. Meanwhile, at least in the experience of many of my friends, she may still be experiencing a variety of symptoms that, while not medically serious, sure are annoying, embarrassing, and strange, and not at all conducive to reinvigorating her sex life. Elective “vaginal rejuvenation” through plastic surgery is on the rise in the U.S., though this surgical reconstruction is largely aesthetic and pays little or no attention to returning sensation or control to the woman. Americans’ lack of attention to the female body after giving birth is our own version of the modesty gown or the word vajayjay; we’re covering our eyes and pretending there’s nothing there to see, until it can no longer be ignored.
La rééducation périnéale, on the other hand, may be giving me more information than I ever wanted about my Lady Jane—or, as I like to call it, my vagina. But after the initial embarrassment, I find I’m feeling better about my postbirth body. We’ll see if that lasts. The health care system here also pays for sessions of “abdominal re-education” that starts after la rééducation périnéale. These are ostensibly to help strengthen the abdominals in case of weakness or C-section, but also have the side benefit of providing “un meilleur aspect du ventre” (a better-looking stomach). Yes ladies, I get to do government-financed sit-ups to get myself back in shape for bikini season! C’est la France, bien sûr.
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