@amalthea
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Once I had a boyfriend who told me I didn’t taste as good as his girlfriend back home in Italy, which has put me off the taste of my vulva for decades. I’ve always wondered, what was wrong with it? Now that I have been consistently tasting my vulva for this module, I realize that nothing was ever wrong.
I have been touching my vulva for a long time without vibrators or many toys. The touch aspect feels well integrated.
Smell is more difficult for me. It feels like it will be an adjustment to regularly check on my scent.
I’m realizing that “sensuality” has nothing to do with perceived sexiness. It is about allowing the senses to drive sexual arousal and letting the senses be a part of the process of orgasm.
The smell seems to change more than the taste, which is consistently salty. I’m wondering if the smell is affected by lubricants and creams. But generally, it is pungent and doughy.
Starting with cupping my vulva helps me to slow down and honor her before anything else. I like to move from the outside in— the inguinal crease, the outer labia (stroking and tapping) and then when I am ready to be closer to penetration I work with the legs of the clitoral bulb, seeing which side is more sensitive or aroused (usually the left). I don’t touch my clitoris until I feel she is fully erect, and for that I am working my pc muscle continuously, standing up, rolling around. I am always dancing with my vulva.
I am new to vulva massage and I think I will try to add it into my morning routine. Even just a few days a week would make a huge difference. I usually masturbate standing up, so the vulva massage seems like a different way to relax and connect with my body without the goal of orgasm or meditation. My masturbation practice is quite vigorous and intentional. Vulva massage would slow me down a lot, especially if I incorporate the breathing exercises first.
Carlin’s voice and instruction were very soothing and helped me to stay with the experience. I would have stopped or moved onto orgasm way earlier if it weren’t for trying to follow along. I chose to do the massage while I am menstruating (for the first time in months) and with a mirror. It was an added challenge to stay with the visual of the blood and the sensations in the body.
I’m still having some “my vulva doesn’t look like everyone else’s” feelings. I had to resist the urge to groom myself and just stay with how things are and how they felt.
I think the word that comes to mind about vulva sharing and inspiration is wellspring. It returns women to their natural joy and power. It inspires creativity, connection, and love. It brings meaning back into our lives and pleasure into our bodies.
I loved how the Viva La Vulva video framed the vulva as a work of art and how much creative and artistic expression was woven into the presentation of the workshop. Everyone became a vulva artist like Betty and everyone got to style their vulva as well as be inspired by it.
As I reflect on what I’ve learned, I’m confronted with how embarrassed I’ve been about my vulva for most of my life. So many secretions, folds, and crevices. How difficult it was for men to relate to my vulva and appreciate her. Now I see that that was because *I* couldn’t relate to my vulva, appreciate her uniqueness, and be comfortable with what I have, much less how beautiful she is.
It’s crazy to reflect on how exquisite and at the same time normal the vulva is. And yet we have no idea. The Bodysex experience is one of normalization and radicalization at once!
To answer this question, I decided to go back to the Greek origin of the word.
The word hymen means thin skin or membrane in Greek and there was a god Hymenaeus who was the son of Apollo and a nymph. In myth, he was a protector of maidens who celebrated him in their wedding songs. He seems something like a beautiful, delicate god of love. There is something ethereal and decidedly not hyper-masculine about him.
The word for virgin in Greek is parthenos which doesn’t have any connotation of sexual experience. It is about the phase of life where you live with your parents or maidenhood.
It seems like the conflation of a broken hymen and virginity is a totally made up concept from the time of Christianity and the patriarchy. These are myths of societal control and control of a woman’s body.
I always wondered about my own hymen, since I bled during my first intercourse (I even stained a white sheet!). I always assumed that was my hymen. Now I know better.
Carlin’s audio guidance was very supportive and helped me to relax and get into the process. I experienced “I wish I had done this sooner” sadness, but then I remembered that many women never get to appreciate their vulvas.
My vulva is long and narrow. I am a short person but I feel like I have a tall vulva! I realized that the length and size of the outer lips have made it difficult to appreciate what’s inside. My vulva is like a delicate woman wearing a warm fur coat. My inner lips are thin with a narrow butterfly shape. It seems like there is a lot of space between my clitoris and rosebud. My tiny clitoral hood looks like a woman wearing a loose head wrap and mantle.
I asked her what her name is and she said Miriam– the beloved, sister of the prophet Moses.
I remember looking and talking about it in the bathtub around age 3 or 4. I had a surgery scar near my vulva that I remember talking about it often. Then again around age 12, but not really very thoroughly. Over the years I have to overcome the shame of my pubic hair to even get to looking at my vulva. I do remember times with a mirror when I got a diaphragm. But nothing as thorough as this experience.
A couple of things stood out for me:
I was struck by Betty’s perseverance and joy in creating this video. How every new change in media she embraced as a means of getting her message out. How she showed up for every generation of women after her own, throughout her whole life. In 1998 I was 22. If I had seen this video then, it would have changed my life.
I also deeply appreciated the diversity in the ages, races, and nationalities of the women filmed. They wove together a beautiful tapestry of joyful appreciation for their bodies and vulvas. I love that their images live on in the online vulva gallery. It’s like a permanent monument to an exquisite experience.
I felt in awe of the beauty of women’s bodies while viewing these images. How each of our vulvas is unique. And yet we don’t appreciate them enough. I learned about the variation in colors and how beautiful these colors can be. I have always thought of my own vulva as a kind of all-too-human blood red. Looking at the variation in colors was stunning and helped me to appreciate how unique my own vulva is.
My challenge isn’t so much with making time for masturbation (though there could always be more time!) but confronting the daily aches and pains that I interpret as inexplicable or a problem. Self-love and appreciation for me comes into practice when things don’t feel good and how I judge myself for not feeling good. Which disconnects me from my body and what is saying and what it needs.
I have been “laying around” more and taking walks without headphones. Letting my body react to its surroundings. Talking to it.
In writing in my journal about these prompts, I realized that I don’t give my body enough respect when I am NOT having an orgasm. The fact that it is an ecstasy machine is a true miracle. But I shame and blame the sensations that don’t feel miraculous. It is all the same– an incredible, beautiful mystery– no matter whether I like it or not.
– The sound of your voice and moans intoxicates me
– I love your breasts
– I love the softness of your vulva
I received public school sex education in the mid 80s and early 90s during the height of the AIDS epidemic. I read SPIN magazine’s coverage of the epidemic month after month; pictures of men wasting away haunted me. Some of our family friends who were gay died. One day they were here and the next not.
I ended up absolutely terrified I was going to die from having sex. This phobia persisted for years, even after moving into having regular sexual partners with frequent testing. Finally in my early 30s I studied with yoga teacher Darren Main. He began all his workshops telling the class that he was HIV+ but that he took no anti-retroviral drugs and had no disease. This was before prep. He told us that he controlled the viral outbreaks with yoga, meditation, and lifestyle. I trusted Darren. I believed him. When he adopted a child as a single father, I realized this man isn’t going to die like every gay man I knew in the 80s. I started to drop the grip of fear I had been raised with.
I still have remnants of that childhood fear. But I see how everyone around me is free of that fear; it’s a non-issue, especially among my young friends and gay friends. I am continually sitting with my 12 and 14-year old selves who were convinced that sex equaled death and trying to show them that there is another way.