Day 28: Throwback Thursday: What Febreze Scent Is Your Vagina

Happy Thanksgiving! Are you stuffed? Because I am stuffed. And tired. The past few days I did a lot of cleaning and a lot of cooking and right before my favorite holiday I got a nasty shock that I'll have to deal with whether I want to or not. If you're the praying type, our little family could use some intervention of the supernatural type. No floods or anything like that, please. If you're a ninja Amazon warrior, hit me back channel and let's make a plan. This Mama Bear never hibernates, although I do need some sleep tonight.

So anyway, it's been a long week and I'm so glad it's over .... Wait? What? It's not over yet? Damn it. That's a very good reason for me to share a post from six years ago that I still find entertaining instead of staying up another 2-3 hours writing, editing, nodding off and banging my head on the keyboard. I've already talked about vaginas and Febreze this month. This post ties them together in a neat fragrant package.


From March 6, 2013

Recently I've started holding what I call writer's bootcamps at my house. I open my house to a group of women writers, take their cell phones, and shame encourage them to put their asses in a chair and write for 4 hours with 5 minute breaks every hour. We take a long break for lunch, and then wrap up with a sharing session.

Sounds so simple, but it's rather powerful. Some amazing work comes out of these bootcamps.

At last week's bootcamp .... for reasons I simply don't understand .... the topic of vaginas came up. I offer you a synopsis.

KS: Vaginas do not smell like fish. Vaginas don't even smell like nice, fresh trout. (This will make no sense if you haven't read the nice, fresh trout post.)
Reticula: Hey, that's what I said, but he was adamant. The guy seemed to know his vagina.
KS: No way. As the lone lesbian in the room, and the person with by far the most experience with vaginas, I'm telling you no vagina smells like fish.
Reticula: My vagina smells like rain. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
KK: OK, then mine smells like mountain air.
KS: Sounds like a Febreze scent. Hey, if your vagina was a Febreze scent, what would it be?
R: Mine would be mango .... no, chili .... no, mango. My vagina smells like mango Febreze.
Reticula: I'm sticking with rain. I'm not kidding: my vagina smells like rain.
Anonymous: How about double rainbow? Maybe your vagina smells like double rainbow Febreze.
Reticula: No, I'm sticking with rain. Nobody gets to say what somebody else's vagina smells like....especially if he's going to say fish.
KK: If we're thinking of Febreze scents, then I'm going to change mine. My vagina Febreze scent is sunshine, not mountain air. My vagina smells like sunshine.
M: Mine is ....  fresh man walking out of a shower.
Everybody: That's the best Febreze scent ever!
KK: OK, I'm changing mine again. This time I'm sure. My Febreze vagina scent is honey cream hops.
Reticula: Mmmm. That sounds like a favorite beverage. Maybe next time we should say what our vagina's favorite beverage should be. (Wait for it...)
KS: My vagina Febreze scent is new car.
Everybody: New car!!!  Does your vagina really smell like new car?

KS: I'm telling you, my vagina smells like new car. I'm the only lesbian here, so I'm the expert on what vaginas smell like. New car. 

Epilogue:

KS: OMG. New car Febreze smells like old lady.
Reticula: What does that mean? Did you buy some?
KS: Yes. And I mean it stinks. I want to change my Febreze vagina scent.
Reticula: Too late. You already chose. Your vagina smells like new car.
KS: But new car Febreze smells like old lady toilet.
Reticula: Do mean the toilette that's watered-down perfume or the toilet your cat drinks out of?
KS: Is there a difference?
Reticula: I dunno. It's your vagina.


If your vagina smelled like a Febreze scent, what would it be?

Our special today is vaginas. Day 3

My posts have been pretty serious so far this month. All two of them. So here's something a little more light-hearted.

I have a file of saved posts on Facebook -- a collection they call it -- where I save interesting things I might want to share or write about here. Those of you who have been reading for a while will probably not be surprised that one topic dominates my reticulated collection. Did you guess politics? If you said yes, you haven't been reading here long enough. If you guessed vaginas ..... Ding! Ding! Ding!

It kind of bothers me, if I'm being honest, that vaginas have become so trendy, because I am the one who writes about vaginas. (Emphasis mine.) That's my niche. Check out my  labias labels and see how many posts I've written about vaginas. Oh, sure, Eve Ensler wrote The Vagina Monologues and inappropriately forced the poor vagina to represent the entirety of the female lady bits, much to every feminist's dismay. But I'm pretty sure I was the first person to inappropriately blog about vaginas with such dedicated regularity. Not my own vagina, thank you very much, but everybody else's. And now the vagina has become an actual trend. A trend I can only assume I started.

Don't believe me? Let me offer a couple of examples.

Enough said.

How about this incredibly ugly vagina shawl, which makes the wearer look like her head is sticking out of a large, pink vagina? OK, to be fair, I don't think this scarf was meant to look like a vagina. It also comes (no pun intended) in blue (do not let your kids talk you into googling "blue waffle," no matter how much they beg) and red (which would make your head look like it's coming out of a period vagina). I suppose if you want to walk around looking like you're constantly being reborn, you could spend 750 pounds ($973.65) on this fur baby, but are you really that stupid? Be a trend-setter, not a trend-follower. Resist the vagina shawl.

Anyway ... Any beer drinkers in the house? I see your hands going up. Any vagina-beer drinkers in the house? Anybody? Bueller?



Turns out these guys can make beer with the "lactic acid bacteria" found in a Czech model's vagina. Or from your girlfriend's vagina. Or, I would assume, your own vagina, should you want to drink your own vagina. And by consuming this magical beer, you will achieve ..... I'm not sure. I'm confused by the entire concept. Somehow by drinking beer made from the magical vaginal bacteria of this one Czech model a person will .... what? Feel like a sexy magical Czech model? Feel like they've fucked a magical Czech model? Become attractive to women who look like magical Czech models? Get drunk? I don't get it and this is my trend!

I don't understand the purpose of vagina beer. And that's a problem, because I've written a lot about vaginas and I have a vagina, so I know vaginas. Vagina  beer is simply trying too hard. Grow the fuck up.

Obviously I've started a trend, which is a double-edged sword. On the plus side, my Facebook file will be fat with potential vagina fodder. OTOH, maybe you're getting bored with vaginas and you're ready to move on to the next cutting edge topic and you're looking to me to start something. Something that can top even vaginas.

I fear I'm a one-trend woman. I'm not sure I have two trends in me. Vaginas have been so good to me that I haven't been hungry. I haven't been looking for the next never-trendy topic that no other blogger will touch.

In other words, we might be stuck with vaginas, my friends. Stuck with, I said, not stuck in. Where was your mind?

Anyway, you never forget your first, so feel free to continue sending me interesting vagina stories. (You know who you are.) And I will continue to write about them until I feel the next .... oh .... oh ..... oh .... YES ..... trend coming on.

Day 25: If we were sharing a box of wine from Aldi....

It's time once again for the what-the-fuck-should-I-write-about-tonight day night of the month when I invite you to sit down, pour a glass of wine from the box (which keeps the wine fresh for 4 weeks), and listen to me prattle on about some shit, which I haven't even decided to write about yet. I promised myself I wouldn't write about national politics over the Thanksgiving weekend, so you can relax and take refuge from that shit for a few minutes.

The first thing I would do if we were sharing this box of wine, and I weren't simply drinking it all by myself, is apologize for this box of wine, which I bought at Aldi. I don't think it has any alcohol in it, which is probably why it cost $12 and the fucking owl is winking. You would probably want to switch to bourbon, and I wouldn't blame you. Also, my refrigerator is too full to put the box of Chardonnay in, so we have to drink our wine with ice. Don't leave!  I have potato chips and lime tortilla chips. Everything will be OK. We'll just drop a shot of bourbon in the wine, and we'll be good to go.

*****
I was sitting here trying to decide what to write, and I found myself watching this stupid video of an excavator digging a hole. Wow, you would say. How did you know what that thing is called? Easy, I would reply. I googled "what is that heavy machine that digs a hole called?" Cards Against Humanity sent me an email today with a link to the video. Apparently they will continue to dig the hole as long as people continue to send them money. And people do continue to send them money. Here. Watch it. It's live at the time of this writing, and it's been going on for 11 hours.


(Click the link to watch it if you give a shit, because here's what just happened: I had a bunchof other stuff written and somehow the live link I embedded here made my blog software go nuts and refuse to save anything, and then I accidentally hit publish and I lost it all. So now I'm really pissed and tired and I probably need another glass of wine and some potato chips if I'm going to try to rewrite all of this lost cleverness. Please don't let me eat any more pumpkin pie though.)

As for that hole though, they've been digging it for half a day and people are still sending money. Money they could send to Standing Rock or Habitat for Humanity or Planned Parenthood or even to me to fund my trip to DC for the Million Women March in January, because I'll need to be prepared with a gas mask and goggles and probably even a trained German shepherd. But these people are sending money to them for digging a hole. Fuck me, I need a better life plan.

Also, they say it's just a bare spot and digging the hole doesn't hurt anything, but I suspect if they had a voice about a bazillion little organisms and fungi would disagree. Humans are so fucking destructive. Not that I didn't like to dig holes in the dirt when I was a kid, but I didn't have an excavator and nobody gave me money for it. Like the election didn't already prove there are millions of idiots in this country. Moving on.

**************

And now an update on the nice review I wrote 2 weeks ago about Native deodorant. I sent them a link to the review, because, first, it was a positive review and my only criticism was the number of emails they send. I wanted them to know how much I appreciate their product. And second, because I hoped they would comp me a stick in each scent so I could try them all. Not that anybody has ever comped me anything before for writing something on this blog, but it's about fucking time somebody did. 

They didn't. Nobody even responded, except that I stopped getting emails. Yesterday my friend ZC told me she'd ordered some of the seasonal jasmine and cedar, and that she was going to order more in case they stopped carrying it. I told her my tale of woe.

Today, I got a fucking email offering me a free travel-size something with a purchase blah blah blah. Obviously they didn't even read my fucking review. But I still like their deodorant so I'm going to not give a shit, although not enough that I'd send money to some guys who are digging a hole.

*******

As I was sitting here tonight cutting up old magazines and watching Kathleen Madigan on Netflix, wondering what the hell I had to write about that wouldn't bore everybody into a snooze, and considering pouring a glass of wine and "accidentally" spilling it into my computer so I'd have an excuse for not writing a single fucking word tonight .... my daughter-in-law Montana sent me a suggestion for next year's Thanksgiving dinner.



Hey, I don't take this as a criticism of my annual traditional turkey dinner, although it is a bit painful to watch. If I'd ever thought to carve a vagina into the turkey, I would have already done it. Same with the butter and the green bean casserole and even the squash. But I do draw the line at canned cranberry sauce. That shit is vile, and it does not deserve a vagina.

And before any fucking mansplainer starts screaming for equal time for the penis, here's a fucking carrot. Have at it. Not that anybody wants to look at yet another orange dick. I digress.

Here's my suggestion. If your Thanksgiving was dry and over-represented by dicks, why not suggest to your mother-in-law that she too carve vaginas into the food. That way when your obnoxious Republican uncle starts in about the gays and the blacks and the Mexicans and how we all need to get along now that President Trump has destroyed civility, you can say, "Shut the fuck up, Uncle Asshole, and eat a vagina like the rest of us." I guarantee he will be speechless for a least a few minutes. Maybe long enough for you to make your escape.

*******

Looks like our box of wine is gone with nary a buzz to be had. Same with the chips. Party size my ass. If you want a real laugh, watch this video of Kathleen Madigan. This Iowa girl never thought anybody could make Missouri this funny.

Day 6: Wordless Wednesday -- Vagina Lover

NaBloPoMo #23: How do you draw a tube anyway? (NSFW)

I was digging through my possibilities file looking for something to write about tonight, and I ran across these videos of women drawing their perfect penises and men drawing vaginas. The first one is women drawing penises.

(Note: My kids should stop reading here. It's your own fault if you don't listen to your mother.)

Assuming you've watched the video, let me tell you a story that may or may not have happened. One night after Wednesday karaoke a friend an acquaintance walked out to the parking lot behind a sex shop with me. We noticed a neon sign that read "Peep show 25 cents," and we talked about it for a while. He wondered what went on during a peep show. I imparted what I knew of such things, which was not first-hand knowledge, and certainly could have been a lie told to me. As we walked up to my van, I jokingly said, "I'll give you a quarter for a peep show."

And just as if he were pulling a rabbit out of a hat, he did. He gave me a peep. Of course, there is, or there isn't, more to the story. And if there were, the story might or might not include a police car cruising by, which I found amusing, and then ..... well, none of that is really important to what I want to say about the video.

Later, I told the story to a couple of a few women friends (before you accuse me of kissing and telling, I must say that we did not kiss. Also, I'm single. I do what I want. But back to the penis ....), and every one of them said, "Was it a good one?" Meaning, of course, his penis. And I replied, "Yes, it was a pretty penis." The parking lot behind the sex shop is well lit, so I can say that with some authority. Then again, as my maternal grandmother used to say, "They all look alike." And before you go slut-shaming my grandma, you should know that she was a nurse, and that's why she saw a lot of penises and could make the judgement that they all looked alike.

Anyway, I've never had sex, or not had sex, based on what a guy's penis looked like. But that's not the first thing the women are asked for in the video. They are asked to draw the perfect size penis. They even have rulers so they can measure.

Compare that to the video of the men drawing vaginas (using the word "vagina" to mean all the lady bits).

Awww. Aren't those guys cute? I'm just going to note that it was OK to briefly show an older, and obviously experienced, woman about to draw a penis, but nobody wants to see an older guy drawing a vagina. Make of that what you will. It's not the topic.

The second video, the one of the guys drawing, made me think about my own view of my lady bits, and I have to say I never really wondered how they compared to any other woman's lady bits. It's the one part of my body I never worried about. I never once considered whether my vagina was pretty. Partly, I suppose, because it takes some effort to even look there so I don't very often, and also because women don't stand around in the bathroom sneaking glances to see if we live up to some standard. We are blessed by this one part of our anatomy that is hidden enough that we don't have to feel inferior. I have many body issues, but this was the one area I didn't have to worry about. I never once considered that a guy wouldn't want to have sex with me because of the appearance of my labia, my vulva, or my vagina. (Hair not withstanding.)

At least I didn't worry about it until the voices of the internet started telling me I really was worried about what my vagina looked like. I started seeing lots of articles about how women feel insecure about the size of their labia or the size of their vaginas (something about a hot dog and a hallway?), whether it's an innie or an outie. No, I thought, I really don't care what it looks like down there. It looks like what vaginas look like. And yet, Yes, the voices insisted. You do care. A man even made a big wall of plaster vaginas  so women everywhere would feel OK about their weird, but normal, vaginas. In other words, I didn't know my vagina might not be pretty until somebody else told me I thought it might not be pretty, and then I had to think about that shit.

And I guess a lot of women took that shit seriously, because they're letting plastic surgeons amputate parts of their lady bits (shudder). If you look at any contemporary nude photography or porn, you can see the evidence: all hair shaved, labia cut off. No wonder these poor guys didn't know what to draw.

Anyway, the drawings of the penises all look pretty much the same. Or maybe I should say the differences are not enough to make a difference. Just as my grandma said. You probably won't see anybody making a wall of plaster penises to reassure men that their penises are all unusual, yet perfectly special, snowflakes.

Which is why asking a woman to draw her perfect penis is pretty easy. And asking a man to describe his ideal vagina is ludicrous. In my experience, availability and humidity seem to be the criteria for an ideal vagina, not what it looks like.

In the end, the perfect penis looks like every other penis, and the perfect vagina can't be drawn because what it looks like doesn't really matter. Which makes the penis and the vagina pretty much the same. In other words, nobody cares what your penis looks like and nobody cares what your vagina looks like. It doesn't fucking matter, because it's the fucking that matters.

Isn't that a relief?

Found on the internet and
stolen with little effort

I was going to draw my perfect  penis and vagina, and then challenge you to do the same and send me your drawings, but let's be honest. You'd think it might be fun, but you're busy, and Thanksgiving is just a couple of days away, and anyway ..... what the hell would you draw? Would it look that different from the ones in the video? Or mine? Probably not. Not that I wouldn't be entertained if you did .... draw something and send it to me (no photos please), but I'm not going to beg.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, I never did pay my quarter for the peep show in the parking lot behind the sex shop. Ooops! My bad! Better luck next time.

NaBloPoMo #20: Are those really my keywords?

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No, thanks. I'll just lick it myself.

(photo credit: Reticulated Writer)

Last night, for a reason that must be obvious, I posted the following status update on Facebook:

I can't lie. The sound of a dog licking his balls makes me gag. That's probably why men didn't evolve with that skill. Women refused to mate with the ones who could reach down there. If any men who read this can lick their own balls, just don't let me hear you. I'm serious.

Then during church I sneaked peeks on my phone at the conversation that followed. One obvious solution to my dog-ball-licking issue is to have said balls removed. I'm looking for a cost-effective way to do that procedure now.

Just as interesting is the men-licking-their-balls issue. A frequent reader here in Reticuland wins the prize for funniest comment. He wrote, "Evolution-wise, I don't think the women were refusing anything; it's more likely that the men with such abilities (I hesitate to use the term "skill") weren't paying any attention to any nearby women in the first place.

Plus, they probably died of exhaustion and starvation shortly after they discovered the ability."

Indeed.

I suspect almost every man I know has had a conversation about whether whether he can suck his own dick and/or if he would if he could blow himself or lick his balls. Anatomically speaking, I think if he could do the first, the latter wouldn't be much of a stretch.

And then as I sat in church I wondered, Why hasn't anybody ever asked me if I would lick my clit if I could? Why hasn't anybody ever asked me if I can lick my own clit?

Obviously one can tell by looking at me that I can't get my face between my legs. There's not enough yoga in the world. So let's set the question to rest just in case you were wondering, now that I brought it up. But I want to know why isn't the interest in autofellatio matched by an equal interest in autocunnilingis? Even the Wikipedia entry for autoeroticism only refers to men dick-licking. Nothing about women clit-licking. I call shenanigans.

I don't understand why we're left out of the conversation. First, because women are more flexible than men -- in general. (I know there's that one guy out there who is thinking Hey, I'm just as flexible as a woman. Good for you, buddy, but can you suck your dick? No? Shut up then.)

I know men like to see women suck their own nipples. But I guess if we could lick our own clits, that might be just a tiny bit more threatening. Because then we wouldn't need anybody else to lick our clits, and you add that to an expensive life-size dildo, and all we're missing is the wet spot on the bed.

So I was in church thinking about this, and then after church I had a conversation with my friend Martini about why women have fewer orgasms than men. If you're thinking it's because women's orgasms are harder to come by (pun intended), then you would be wrong. Our bits work just fine, thank you, but the relevant bits aren't found in our vaginas, so the penis isn't usually the right tool for the job. (I know there's that one woman -- the one the rest of us women all secretly hate -- who's thinking, I come with every penetration. I have an orgasm when I insert a tampon. Good for you, bitch. Now go sit in the corner. This conversation isn't for you.)

No, the reasons are many, and most of them boil down to men's orgasms being more important than women's.  I don't need to reinvent the wheel when this article by Stefani Ruper is out there. Everybody should read it. Go ahead. Do it now. I'll wait. Hand me that vibrator, please.

So when I told Martini that one reason women don't have as many orgasms as men is because single men, especially during a one-night stand, don't care if the woman has an orgasm, and even admit that they don't give a shit if the woman has an orgasm because they're never going to see her again ..... Oh, the look of astonishment on his face was priceless.

He was actually surprised. Because such a lack of chivalry has never crossed his mind. Because he's one of those men who finds a woman's orgasm almost as fulfilling as his own. Because it just wouldn't be good sex if she didn't have an orgasm.

He's that rare bird. Ruper quotes a study by Elizabeth Armstrong et al in which they claim that women in relationships have 7 times more orgasms (with male partners) than women who aren't. In other words, if it's a hookup, he's going to get his, but she's not.

And women know it. Don't we? Back me up here, single ladies. We know it. OK, I know it. And that's one reason I don't engage in hookups. I don't have issues of repression, and even my body issues (which are significant) wouldn't prevent me in engaging with sex with a nice stranger. But I'm not looking for selfish sex. I'm not a receptacle. It's mutual pleasure or nothing for me. And my expectation for a one-night event is that I'll be disappointed. Experience and scientific research back up my pessimism.

But more than that, I'll come clean and say it's also reason #284 why I don't pursue dating. Many men are only looking for a hookup, and I'm not only bored by the shallowness of their quest to fulfill their basest needs, I'm not interested in servicing them at the expense of my own pleasure. I do feel like a slut when a man doesn't care about my orgasm. (Caveat: I have also experienced men who just didn't  know what the fuck they were doing. I dated a man for months who claimed eating pussy was his favorite past-time, and yet he had fewer skills than the average 15-year-old. I kept thinking it was going to get better, but it never did. It was a lesson I took to heart. If he can't find the spot by the third time, he's not going to. Move on.)

I should add this second caveat: None of this pertains to lesbian sex. Lesbians have more orgasms than anybody.

Back to the original topic, which was .... OK, it was my dog licking his balls. Anyway, I don't think it's at all fair that women can't lick their own clits. There. I said it. And I will answer the question I've never been asked: Yes, if I could, I would certainly lick my own clit. Tongues are simply the best, in my opinion. Unfortunately, imagining contorting my body into a position that might facilitate my tongue coming into contact with my clit does not bring a feeling of warm, moist pleasure.

Since I answered the question, I'm going to ask my women readers. Would you pleasure yourself with your tongue if you could? Don't leave me hanging, ladies! I've had that happen way too often already.

Wordless Wednesday: Why didn't I think of this first?

Snippet from a church dinner

Quote of the night from the annual Thanksgiving dinner at my church:

"Reticula, sometimes I have to stop and remind myself that there's more to you than just vaginas."

(Disclaimer: Any quotations found on this blog are simply a reasonable facsimile of the conversation.)

Pink is the new .... pink

What time is it, kids? It's vagina time!

Obviously I've been neglecting the vagina posts this month, and for that I apologize. Several readers have sent me articles and photos (mmm hmmm) to get my juices flowing.

One reader sent me an article about labia bleaching, which I wrote about last year. The idea still gives me a slight burning sensation between my legs, and not in a good way.

What's funny though is that the reader said he "Just wanted to make sure this one didn't fly under [my] VAGAR (i.e. vagina radar ....)." Why the hell didn't I think of that? VAGAR! I love it!

(He also said he's trademarking that acronym and will charge me a quarter every time I use it. It was worth 50 cents to write it twice.)

Chicken Grrrl sent me an article about a new vaginal colorant called My New Pink Button.

(photo credit: the website)

Apparently while Indian women are bleaching their lady bits to make them whiter, other women are worried that theirs are too pale, so they're dying them pinker. In fact, ladies, we can choose from 4 different shades of pink that range from light pink to baboon-ass red. (Although rest assured, this dye has never been tested on animals. Whew. The idea that poor little white mice might be running around with pink vag ..... oh ... nevermind.)

At first I was skeptical and suspected this was a joke, but then I was reassured to learn it was created by a "certified Paramedical Esthetician." I assume she graduated from a rigorous academic program, something like becoming a doctor or a lawyer or a manicurist.

I was tempted determined to buy it, test it, and post before-and-after photos here. It looks pretty easy to use: Just mix the dye powder with water in a rocks glass and dab it on with a big cotton swab. Even though I was never allowed to wear red, purple or pink when I was growing up -- because redheads simply weren't allowed those colors -- I was still willing to try it for my art and for science and for you, dear readers.

But then I noticed they've apparently sold out of every single shade, including the one for gingers. Wow! That's some popular stuff!

Next I tried to find it on Amazon, but all I found was My Pink Wink anal bleach cream. Cute name. Nothing else about that appeals to me. The idea makes me pucker.

So I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm not gonna drink the Flavor-Aid when it comes to changing the color of either my "button" or my "wink." They're just going to have to stay .... well, whatever the hell color they are naturally. Who the fuck looks? Whatever color I am down there, I'm sure somebody would say it's too light and somebody else would say it's too dark and most men would just say, "Huh?"


*Disclaimer: If you're a woman who suffers from vaginal fading, please don't take offense. Just rub some cherry Kool-Aid powder down there and feel good about yourself, OK?

Sunday Sharing

Tomorrow is the last day of September and the last day of my commitment to write every day. To be honest, I didn't meet the challenge amyway. I dropped a few days when I went adventuring in Chicago and the wilds of Illinois. It was totally worth it, and someday you'll get that story.

Tonght I want to share with you a few items readers sent me this week after all those inspiring vagina conversations.

First, a pair of uterus earrings.

(http://www.etsy.com/listing/9926498/uterus-earrings)

I was really stunned glad when I saw these sold 5 years ago, so thank you, grilled cheesus, nobody can buy them for me. I think this is the tackiest thing I've ever seen, and I remember the 80's. I've seen seen some tacky. Not only is this more than a uterus -- it's the entire female reproductive system -- but it's the ugliest thing I've ever seen. These earrings prove there's a reason the uterus and Fallopian tubes are hidden away inside a woman's body and that they aren't made out of Shrinky Dinks.

The reader who sent me this will receive a vagina-shaped whoopie cushion in the mail. Thanks for playing.

Another reader sent this example of vaginas and the use of metaphor. 

(I have no idea where this came from.)

These look nothing like the photos I posted the other day.  Obviously gay people need to see those photos more than most of us do.

And finally, a reader sent a link to this art exhibit called The Great Wall of Vagina. The panels consist of rows of molded casts of women's lady bits. The artist is a guy named Jamie McCartney who says he's trying to show women that our vulvas all look different. Or something like that.

(http://www.greatwallofvagina.co.uk/home)

I'm going to admit I'm conflicted over this body of work, as is the friend who sent me the link. My first reaction is that I'm not sure how this is art any more than the plaster cast of my hand I made in kindergarten is art. Or the imprint of my teeth my dentist made when I needed a crown. They look more like forensic artifacts than art.

My second reaction is strongly that I don't need some guy trying to fix my vulva dysmorphia by getting a bunch of women to take off their panties to he can cast molds of their pussies. I don't need a man to do that. Back the fuck off and don't try to fix us as if you're doing us a big fucking favor.

As I said to my friend, this has a Hugo Schwyzer feel to it. There's a difference between men supporting feminism and men taking it over because they want to "help" us. And it's like art: I can't define that boundary very easily, but I sure as hell know it when it's been crossed.

You want to make this about women? Make your show anonymous. Don't fucking get famous doing something feminists have been doing for decades, which is to show real women's bodies to women. Why the hell didn't any of them get famous? Because they're not men, and the real problem is much bigger than how women perceive their vulvas. I really don't want a man to get a bunch of kudos for this.

It's patronizing. How about you get famous for casts of penises or ball sacks or beer bellies? Why not help out your own tribe by showing a wall of their genitals with the color sucked out of them? Is it because pussy sells?

Or is it because you wouldn't be able to come up with such a clever title? The Great Wall of Vagina? Really? Is this a serious show or is it not?

Third (or maybe it's fourth or fifth), this isn't what real vulvas look like. I posted a photo of real vulvas. Yes, they show the many varieties of lady snowflakes, but they are a representation. Maybe that's what makes them art, but it's also what makes this feel so patronizing.

You're saying women should see ourselves as we really are and appreciate our differences, but you've given us colorless, mashed vulvas masquerading as art. That's not what I see when I put my head between my legs.

And yet, some women seem to be impressed by it. They seem to be soothed by it. They seem to be reassured and normalized. Empowered. That is, I suppose, a good thing.

I don't feel empowered by a man showing me what vulvas look like though. I like those college girls in Australia doing it, owning their power, slapping it on the cover of their newspaper. I don't see how women gain any power or authority over their own bodies by seeing this guy's pussy casts.

Oh, dear. It appears I've gone off on a rant. Maybe I'm not as conflicted as I thought.

What do you think? Have I gone off the deep end? Do any of my women readers feel empowered by this wall of vulvas?

Followup to "Censorship Down Under"

Wow! You guys love you some vagina, don't you?

When I hit publish on last night's post, I felt significant trepidation. It was the first time I'd posted actual photos of actual vulvas and labias. I thought it would be too much for some of you. Boy howdy was I wrong! That post struck a few nerves, but they weren't the ones I feared.

The discussions on Facebook -- both the Reticulated Writer page and my personal Facebook wall -- kept me busy today. I wish I could share them all here, but that's not possible. I also wanted to give thoughtful answers to the comments on the actual post tonight as well. Go check them out if you haven't already and join in the conversation.

I was going to post something about Ken, one of the assholes on this season's Project Runway. I'm still going to take a run at him with my sewing scissors, but not tonight.

Tonight I just want to go to bed (it's almost 3:00 am) and think about how different I feel compared to last night at this time. Last night I had trouble falling asleep because I was worried I'd gone too far, and readers would be offended by the photos. I was worried my feminist friends would hate me for my reaction to the photos and for my conflicted feelings about them. I was just worried.

None of that happened. What happened were the most inspiring, woman-nurturing, grounded, vagina-loving conversations .... I couldn't have imagined better.

Turns out the natural-vagina haters haven't won after all.

Thank you. I should have trusted you. You've given me a gift today: a reminder of the power and beauty of women's bodies. A reminder of how many men love us just the way we are. A reminder that we are beautiful and fuck you Vogue and Cosmopolitan and Playboy and porn in general and every other magazine and movie and advertisement that tells women and girls how we should look instead of celebrating how we do look from the follicles on our heads to our vaginas to our toenails.

Thank you. I feel so uplifted tonight. I feel infused with the positive woman-loving energy I engaged with today.

So Ken, you're going to have to wait, you out-of-control, bullying asshole.

"Tonight Reticula wrote into her story that she feels beautiful and powerful and vulvaful simply because she is a woman and she is. And .... vaginas are pretty and awesome." (See this post if that sentence makes no sense.)

Here's one thing I want to share with you. A reader posted a link to Vulva Love Lovely today on a thread on my personal FBW. Here's an example. (Get me this for Christmas! Please!)

Mermaid vulva

I'm definitely getting my daughter Elvira this one below. She starts decorating for Halloween in August. And who doesn't love some Halloween vulva?

Halloween vulva

For those of you who aren't really fans of the vagina, don't worry. I really am going to move on tomorrow to other topics. At least for a day or two.

Censorship down under (NSFW)

Warning: This post contains graphic photos of real women.

A couple of weeks ago my friend The Hot Italian sent me an article about vagina censorship. Seems the oldest student newspaper in Australia, Honi Soit, published cover photos of 18 vaginas (vulvas really, with some labias poking out). Just before the paper went to print, the university decided to stick a black rectangle over the juicy parts of the photos to avoid a lawsuit.

Australia has a law that only a closed slit can be shown. Most women don't really look like that once they've passed through puberty. Black rectangles to the rescue. Or not.

Turns out their rectangles were unacceptably transparent: the vulvas were visible. The university pulled the entire run of the paper.

You might ask, "Why the hell would a student newspaper want closeup photos of vulvas on the front cover of their paper?" I kind of wondered that myself. It's sensational, right? Vulgar? Pornographic? Unnecessary? Meant to send a message?

The answer is the last one: meant to send a message. As this article explains, they were tired of the way vaginas are portrayed in the media, when they are shown at all: shaved clean, surgically altered, pale, girlish. They wanted to show what real lady bits look like, because a lot of girls and women think they're deformed; they don't look like what we've been told is the ideal.

In fact, the author of the article notes that 12,000 Australian women a year have labiaplasty. I imagine the rates are higher here in the U.S. That's a lot of labias going into the trash.

I can see their point about the mystery and misrepresentation of female genitalia. Unless we're lesbians, most women don't get a good look at adult vaginas other than their own (and rarely that) unless it's in porn. And those vaginas don't look like my vagina. At least not the modern vaginas.

Their other point is that the vagina isn't just a sexual object. It's a body part like any other, and there's no reason it shouldn't be out there, free and proud. Hiding vaginas makes them seem dirty and only useful for sex.

They made some good points. I looked at the photo of the censored vaginas first. Here it is. I have to admit, even censored this photo would have caused a stir at any of the universities I attended.

Then I followed a link to the original photo, which one of the editors tweeted. And I'm going to admit this even though it's hard: It was a little strange looking at those disembodied vulvas all in rows. My first thought was that I should look away. They looked too private, like they shouldn't be posing like that.

And they didn't look especially attractive, alone there without their tummies and legs and breasts and faces. I had to puzzle about my reaction for a few days, because I was uncomfortable about those 18 vulvas, and that's not what I would have expected.

 I'm still conflicted. Yes, on the one hand, I think we should stop chasing a surgically altered ideal of women's bodies. It's damaging to women and to men. I doubt there are many readers I have to explain this to, so I won't. The editors of the paper made valid points about why they wanted to show those 18 vaginas on the cover.

On the other hand, why these disembodied close-ups? The answer: there's no reason not to. My discomfort comes from my own socialization and indoctrination. Just like I find perky, round breasts, flat stomachs, smooth round asses, and long, thin legs most attractive, I also find those closed up, pale vulvas more acceptable too. Shame on me, but I do.

It's not how I want to think, but I have to be honest about this. Even though they look perfectly normal, those vaginas don't look like what public vaginas are supposed to look like.

It's some hard brainwashing to reverse.

(I'm going to cut myself a tiny bit of slack here and say that I wouldn't find most parts of the human body attractive if they were photographed this way, not even breasts. It's too clinical, which I suppose is one of the effects the editors were going for. I could never understand it when a guy I was dating wanted me to send him a photo of my breasts. They look much better in context than they do in a static photo all alone. Same with my nose.)

The other thing I realized -- not to get too personal -- is that I don't much think of my pudendum (that's the latin name for female genitalia) visually, like I do my breasts or my hands. I think of that area as a feeling area. I don't see it; I feel it there. I never think what it looks like.

That's no excuse though. These women are trying to normalize the visual.

I suppose I could go on and on about whether penises would have been censored (maybe not), and whether circumcision is just as bad as labiaplasty, and the unlikelihood that a student newspaper in Australia is really going to change anybody's mind about vulvas. (Yet here I am in a small midwestern city writing about it.)

I decided to go with my own reaction because I'm disturbed by it, and I'm sad and ashamed and I doubt I'll be able to change it -- certainly not by looking at or writing about these 18 vulvas.

I do think this photo changed something though: It changed the women who undressed, stood still for the photo, and agreed to have it printed on the cover of the oldest student newspaper in Australia. I know for a fact it changed them a lot, because I've recently experienced a similar adventure. As my friend Moxie would say, "It made them feel like goddesses."

Those women are changed forever. And 18 changed women is better than 0 changed women. Who knows? Now that those 18 young women risked showing their real vulvas to the world, maybe 18 more will do it. And be changed. Maybe they won't react like I did -- in spite of myself.

Maybe they will persuade 18 other women not to surgically remove their labias just because they think they should look like porn stars or little girls instead of real women.
******

I debated fiercely with myself about whether I should post the original, uncensored photo here. I believe I will lose readers if I do. I believe I will disappoint other readers if I don't (but I doubt they will stop reading because of it).

I struggle with knowing I don't find those photos attractive. I know it doesn't fucking matter if I find them attractive. They just are. It's not even my business whether they are attractive or not.

Trying to define what's attractive is how we got into this mess in the first place.

Then again, as much as I've written about vaginas, I've never posted photos. This isn't a sex blog.

I finally had to wonder what I would want me to do if I were one of those brave young women who bared their vaginas on the cover of their school newspaper. I have no doubt what the answer to that question is: "Yes. Override your own discomfort and post the photo. Be one of us."

For that reason, here is the uncensored photo of real women's vulvas, some with labias poking out. This is what we look like.

That's all I have to say. I would love to read what you have to say though. Comments are open below. Grab a cup of coffee or a glass of wine and let me know what you think.