I feel suddenly defensive. Patsy is going over all this as if it is a well-rehearsed argument. "Well, at least it’s more constructive than some of the ways you hurt yourself," I challenge her. "Tattoos, body piercing, tooth removal. It’s almost like you’re punishing yourself for something. It worries me, frankly, that so many people can damage their bodies for the sake of a fad."

"Hardly a fad, Gran. People have been doing it for thousands of years. It’s not some weird self-punishment. It’s not just that it looks good, it makes a point about yourself. That you have the will to make yourself who you want to be. Even if it means a little pain." She pokes speculatively at the heaped cookies.

"Or a lot of infection."

"Not with that new antibiotic. It kills everything."

"That’s what worries me," I mutter.

I take another cookie. Nothing betrays my amusement as Patsy absent-mindedly takes one and dunks it in her milk. She slurps off a bite, then says with a full mouth, "I’m getting cut myself."

"Cut?" The bottom drops out of my stomach. I’d seen it on the netnews. "Like a joint off one of your little fingers like those BaseChristian kids did? To seal their promise to never do drugs?" An almost worse thought finds me. "Not that facial scarification they do with the razor blades and ash?"

She laughs aloud and my anxiety eases. "No, Granma!" She hops off her stool and grabs her groin. "Cut! Here, you know."

"No, I don’t know." How can I suddenly be so afraid of what I don’t know?

"Circumcision. Everyone’s talking about it. Here." While I am still gaping at her, she takes her net link from her collar and points it at my wallscreen. My rainforestcam scene gives way to one of her favorite links. I cringe at what I see. Some net star in a glam pose has her legs spread. Larger than life, she fills my wall. Head thrown back, hair cascading over her shoulders, she is sharing with us her freshly healed female circumcision.