Vagina Buffet

Dear Porn Searcher,

Sorry to disappoint you, but this is NOT a porn site. There’s no free pussy, wet pussy, or hot granny porn to click on. And you certainly can’t rate my pussy but you can see a beautiful and tasteful painting of my vagina here. I made it for my husband’s birthday and then ending up in hospital. I have truly suffered for my art.

But you don’t care for my painting do you? You just want to flog your log. Or were you actually looking for pictures of wet cats? Cats are very popular on the Internet these days. I've included a wet cat gif to make it easier for you. You can probably stop searching now and go about your day.

I mean, how do we get through the day without someone posting a photo of Grumpy Cat? But I digress...  

I understand I have the word ‘vagina’ in my URL, so it’s only natural that my site would pop up while you are surfing the web for porn. After all, porn doesn’t surf itself and you have needs, I get that. 

It’s unfortunate that those of us trying to promote women’s health are tarred with the same brush, but hey, I accept that. It was a controversial decision to put the word ‘vagina’ in my book title, but I went ahead and did it anyway.

If you’re still with me and you’re interested in knowing the real reason behind my confrontational title, please read on.

The Vagina Buffet is actually a chapter in my book. It doesn’t refer to an all-you-can-eat smorgasbord of vaginas, rather, a statement my Renal specialist made to me during an appointment with him. I wont bore you with it now; I know you need to keep searching. You can read the full story here if you’re interested.

So once you’ve satisfied your needs, feel free to visit my site again and buy a copy of my book. There are illustrations of real vaginas in the book and some funny stories you might find interesting. You may even learn a little something about women, which could lead to you spending less time searching the net and more time in an intimate relationship with an actual human being.

Thanks for stopping by; I hope you find what you’re looking for.

SJ x

 

Image: Shutterstock

Why I called my book The Vagina Buffet

I was travelling on the F3 freeway heading to Sydney with Mikey when it happened. A very sharp, crippling pain in my side came on so suddenly, and so violently, that Mikey had to turn off at the next exit and head for the nearest hospital. Travelling at speeds well beyond the legal limit, we reached emergency, pulled up, and I started projectile vomiting. The staff rushed me into a bed and the doctors started examining.

After 24 hours of waiting ‘nil by mouth’, blood tests, CT scans, urine samples and the like, the emergency room doctor told me I had a very large kidney stone obstructing my left ureter. It would need to be removed within the next couple of hours or I would be in the intensive care unit with major organ failure. I was transferred by ambulance to a larger hospital and operated on that evening and yes, once again, I hadn’t waxed my fanny and the surgery was to take place through the ureter at the entrance of my vagina. Great.

I underwent two surgeries (yes, I waxed for the second one) and once the stone fragments were removed and analysed, my urologist referred me to a renal specialist for follow-up treatments to prevent further kidney stone formation.     

I was then 38 years old and sitting in the rooms of my renal specialist. My Bartholin’s cyst had been marsupialised, and as a consequence, I contracted multiple bouts of thrush brought on by the antibiotics I took post-surgery and to also fight the initial kidney stone infection. He was lecturing me on the functions of the vagina and how it is self-cleaning. How could I live with my vagina for 38 years and not know it was self-cleaning? How? “No need for soap,” he said, “just a splash of water and make sure you urinate after intercourse.” I had only just met Dr Ernie and, trying to get to the bottom of my chronic vaginal infections, I had to explain treatments I had undertaken to rid myself of this trouble. Being a bit of a naturalist, I was taking the alternative route for treatment. Paw Paw (to draw out infection), tea tree (for antiseptic) and non-fruity yoghurt to keep my girlfriend in bacterial-balance.

Dr Ernie looked shocked and said, “Sounds like you’ve had a smorgasbord on your vagina!” 

Oh Lordy me, he thinks I’ve put everything on my vaj all at once! Oh, I’d better tell him it was over a period of several weeks. Should I tell him I also painted my vagina? He’ll think I’m insane! Should I? He is the specialist after all, maybe it has something to do with my condition? Oh bloody hell, deep breath, here I go…

Now before I continue, I should describe the type of person Dr Ernie is. He is a very properly dressed man in his mid-to-late 50s, and very concise and to the point. He has loads of certificates on his wall and has the air of an accountant. I like him, he’s very professional, but can you imagine sitting down with your straight-laced accountant and telling him what I was about to tell him?

“I’m going to tell you something Dr Ernie, but you have to promise you won’t get angry with me.” (Long uncomfortable pause…) “I painted my vagina. I painted it for my husband’s birthday and I think that’s what caused my Bartholin’s cyst.”  He didn’t quite know what to say or where to look. I’m sure he was thinking he had a really great story for his next dinner party!

Barely able to maintain eye contact, he structured me a long-term plan and gave me strict instructions: “No fruits, yoghurts or vegetable matter, in, up or even in the general vicinity of your vagina. And no waxing… nothing!”

I mean, a girl doesn’t need to be cut like a French poodle, but some basic downstairs maintenance is a must for me. How can I, the nation’s leading waxer, not wax?

Weeks later I went back to my regular GP and after he read the follow-up letter from my specialist he turned to me and said, “What are the unusual habits you have regarding the care of your external genitalia?”

“Give me that letter!” I read it and I read it again.

I was looking at two A4 pages of my health and my history. I was embarrassed and ashamed. How could all of this stuff happen to me? How could I abuse my body like this? I like to think I’m a pretty healthy individual. I was thinking of starting a family soon. “Ok this is it,” I thought, this is my lowest point, it’s only up from here. 

 

This is an excerpt from my book, The Vagina Buffet. If you'd like to read more, you can purchase a copy here.

Please enjoy... The Lovely Electric

Plenty of lady garden euphemisms in this little ditty! 

 

The news story behind the video. 

Vagina Myths as Magical as Unicorns

I somewhat relate to the beautiful ladies in this myth busting video about periods.

   

When I first started menstruating, we didn’t have YouTube or Google to help us with our embarrassing questions. You had no choice but to trust what your mother told you or what you heard from the kids in the playground at school. It was difficult to separate myth from fact and in my naïve younger days, I took these answers as gospel.

Thankfully, as a school-aged child I had really open and honest family members to speak with and the paperback version of Where Did I Come From? and What’s Happening to Me? to help with the facts of life.   

“We were afraid of them [tampons].” “You would lose them… in your vagina!”

“There are bears up there [in the mountains] and if they smell your blood from your period, they are liable to attack you!”

“Sharks would attack you and anyone with you, because they smelled the blood. You were terrified!”

Although we don’t have bears here along the east coast of Australia, I totally and utterly believed the myth about the sharks. Who am I to dare swim with my period and invite Great Whites to the shore where hundreds of non-menstruating beach-goers are enjoying the sun, the sand and the waves? No thanks! I’ll wait till I’ve finished surfing my crimson wave!     

Of course I now know none of these myths to be true. Tampons have nowhere to go but down and you are more likely to be taken by a shark if you’re wearing a black wetsuit, and looking like a plump juicy seal, than if you are having your period.

I’m guessing this all stems from the sharks-can-smell-a-drop-of-blood-a-mile-away theory? But after reading over some scientific data and research, it seems that sharks are uninterested in menstrual fluids (which is chemically very different from systemic blood). Phew, we can all safely go back in the water now!

Balancing out other myths from fact came about during my time as a Brazilian waxer.

I had only ever seen a few other vaginas in my lifetime and they all looked very similar to mine. So naturally, I thought that’s what they all looked like. You can image the education I got from working in a waxing salon looking at vaginas day in, day out. No two are alike and they come in many shapes and sizes. It has nothing to do with how much sex you’ve had or how many children you’ve borne naturally. It’s simply the way we are built. Vaginas are as unique as our faces and fingerprints and as individual as snowflakes. Vaginas are so special, they even have their own doctor!

“Am I normal?” and, “Sorry about the smell,” were the two most common statements from my clients.

And yes, it’s normal for healthy women to have a unique odor to their vaginas. Vaginas don’t smell (or taste) the same, but they do all smell. Contrary to what people believe, it’s not like working in a fisheries co-op, it’s a very mild odor and will never send you running from the beauty room gasping for fresh air.

And if you think men are offended by our feminine odor, this interesting story might help dispel the whole smelly fish myth.

During a drunken conversation with my father-in-law one evening, he was reminiscing about his glory days in the 60s as a young lad growing up in Northern England, courting the local women at the Mecca Dance Hall. It was the usual dance-scene scenario, single lads and single ladies out for a night “on the pull.”

According to paternal-one, it was common knowledge that women seeking men used to put their fingers into their vaginas and place their vagina essence delicately behind their ears. Complicated dating signals were obsolete at the Mecca, just a sniff of the “Canal No.1” (as it was affectionately known) and it sent the hormone-infused geezers mad, and they loved it! 

So forget the pure floral perfume of Chanel No.5 and the romantic fragrance of Diorissimo. It was vagina juice women were dabbing behind their ears back in the free-loving decade of the 60s.

The safest way to stay fresh? Toss your feminine hygiene products and leave your amazing self-cleaning vagina to take care of itself.

 

Santa Baby

I was just listening to Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby” and the lyrics reminded me of my time in the salon prior to Christmas day. 

Come and trim my Christmas tree, 
With some decorations bought at Tiffany’s.

Like hairdressers, beauticians are ridiculously busy before the arrival of the red-suited man. It’s a phenomenon I personally don’t understand, but for whatever reason, women must be waxed and their hair must be preened. Not all women of course, but a large majority.

In salon times, I worked 14-hour days before December 25^th. Brazilian waxing and placing sparkly Swarovski crystals on freshly waxed lady bits. All in the name of some lighthearted vajazzling fun.

But those days have gone and here we are at the end of another year.

It’s been a crazy one for me. Renovating our family home, entertaining a 4-year-old toddler and swapping waxing for laser hair removal. Oh, laser treatment, where have you been all my life?! I love you more than waxing itself.

I’m hoping to start writing again in the new year, but for now, I’m just trying to get through the festive fog. Thank you all for your unconditional support. I wish you the merriest of times and super safe travels.

Merry berries! SJx

 

Image: Shutterstock 

The day my upstairs/downstairs hair collided!

So I finally redeemed my Mother’s Day voucher – a deluxe facial and a back massage from my local beauty parlour (compliments of my super awesome husband and daughter).

I arrived for my mid-morning appointment and was ushered into a beauty room by one of the young beauticians. After I changed into the robe and was ready for my treatment, the young girl said she would start with my back massage. She then asked if I didn’t mind getting a little essential oil in my hair and the conversation went on from there…

Me: No, I don’t mind at all, in fact curly hair, like mine, loves oil, so go right ahead.

Beautician: Ok, great.

Me: And you wont believe what I’ve been putting in my hair this week. Oil is nothing!

Beautician: Oh really? What?

Me: KY Jelly!

Beautician: What?!

Me: I’ve joined a forum for curly girls and apparently this is the must-have product for curly hair! And the conversation went on from there until it was time for my no-talk relaxy time.

It all started several weeks ago. I gazed into the mirror and could no longer look at the triangular, frizzy mop that has become my hair. To say I’ve had a few bad hair days lately would be an understatement. Since becoming a mum, all things beauty related has taken a huge back seat.  So I decided to change everything.

I found a new hairdresser. She also has curly hair, so she understands it and is passionate about bringing curls to life. I also joined a forum of curly girls to hunt down that perfect frizz-reducing product. As I mentioned to the beautician, I soon discovered the secret underworld powers of KY Jelly. Google it. You'll be amazed how many people are using it and swear by it. Apparently KY has the same ingredients as this super amazing, frizz taming stuff called Curl Keeper, only half the price. 

It was around the same time that I paid a visit to my gyneacologist. We were discussing all things vagina, when he paused, looked up and said, “Have I ever told you to wash your vagina with hair conditioner?”

“Um, no. No you haven’t.” “You’ve told me all the things I should not put on my vagina, but we’ve never discussed what I can put on my vagina.” Years earlier, after applying paint, tea tree oil, yoghurt and paw paw cream to my lady bits I was told to leave it alone. “Don’t touch it!” “It’s a self cleaning organ!” So I didn't go near it. For years.

My Gynaecologist recommended hair conditioner for my vag as it is more acidic* than soap. Soap is bad news for us girls, but hair conditioner much more suited to the environment of our beautiful lady gardens. It is, of course, only for the outside skin, not for internal application.

Once I was over the initial shock of the whole conditioner-on-my-fanny thing, I asked my OB/GYN what product would work best? I have my Paul Mitchell Super Rich Detangling Conditioner or my Kérastase Oléo-Curl Intense. He seemed to think the Paul Mitchell detangling conditioner would be perfectly fine, but coming from a man that barely has any hair, worried me.   

I now feel like I’m living in a bizzaro world (à la Seinfeld), filled with hair products for your vagina and vagina products for your hair! How did these two worlds collide? And where was I when the product-swapping memo was handed out? I mean, I’ve heard of models putting hemorrhoid cream under their eyes to reduce puffiness, but KY in your hair and conditioner on your lady bits was something new all together!

Not sure about you, but the world of hair, beauty and personal grooming products totally overwhelms me, and now, even more so. I’ve tried a plethora of products and now I’m looking outside the box and turning to my pantry. Avocado, honey and apple cider vinegar has now joined my hair posse of products. I was once told I had a “smorgasbord” on my vagina and now it seems I have half a pantry and a bathroom cabinet on my hair. All in the pursuit of lovely locks!  

So lets raise a cocktail glass to happy hair days! If you have any product tips (hair or otherwise), I'd love to hear from you. Afterall, what's another vegetable in the mix!

Peace, love and luscious locks.... SJ x

For curly girls all around the world, here’s where I’ve recently been hanging out: www.naturallycurly.com and Aussie Curly Girls (Facebook page).

* I found this article useful in explaining the vaginal ecosystem. 

Images: Shutterstock

WIN! WIN! WIN!

Win one of 20 personally signed copies of The Vagina Buffet with Mouths of Mums. 

Go to www.mouthsofmums.com.au and enter the code word "LADYBITS" 

Competition opens Friday 23rd August 2013. 

To Brazilian or not to Brazilian?

This is today’s burning question, and a pretty serious one, at that.

Shortly, I’ll be ditching the wax pot and taking the plunge into laser hair removal. I’ve resisted it for ages, but now that the prices are comparable to a wax treatment, and it takes a very short amount of time, it seems to make more sense to go ahead with it now.

I’ve booked in to have a full leg, underarm and a Brazilian done. The only problem I have, is that I haven’t had a Brazilian wax since my daughter was born over 4 years ago. When I had my Brazilian waxing salon, I waxed all the time. All. The. Time. And now, not so much. It’s mainly down to time (and lack of it). Running after a toddler takes up far more time than I ever thought possible. But there’s also something else preventing me from having a full Brazilian and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

I first started Brazilian waxing to impress my husband - I did it for his birthday one year. He loved it, so I kept going. Now that I have a daughter, it’s different. I have a responsibility. Every decision I make, impacts her. I’m her mummy, the person she learns from and hopefully looks up to. I’m happy for her to know that I wax. In fact she has seen me wax my lip since she was a baby, so it’s normal for her to have a mummy with pink stuff on her face from time to time. What I want her to know is that it’s normal to have pubic hair. It’s natural and it’s all part of growing up. I’ve always been an advocate of having some hair, just making it look a little tidier and not poking out of undies. I really don’t understand the pre-pubescent look – why would anyone want to look like a little girl when you could be looking like a women?

So, for me, it’s a pretty serious decision. Laser is, after all, permanent and I don’t want to regret my choice. I will be leaving hair at the front (covering my pubic bone), but it’s whether I take it that one step further and have it removed from my labia majora or I just have a brief bikini-type situation?

I’d really love to hear your thoughts on this one. I know there’s greater problems in the world right now, but for me, it’s a biggy. It’s my daughter and I’m her world.

Love and laser beams! SJ x

Fun in Fiji

Bula!

This time last year I was in Fiji with my family. We loved it so much, we've decided to do it again. After months of home renovation hibernation, it's time for some winter fun in the sun. I just hope I don't Pee in Fiji again!

Valentines

Today, I cut my wedding rings off. I didn’t purposely pick February 14^th as the day I would do this; it just turned out that way.

Mikey is not the type of husband that showers me in gifts. He loves me, nurtures me and supports me in ways no one ever has - these are his gifts to me. And besides, I’m not the type of girl that needs flowers and chocolates every anniversary. As long as I have hugs and smooches, I’m set.

This morning was different.

Next year will be our tenth wedding anniversary and we’ve been talking about heading to Las Vegas and renewing our vows in some crazy Fat-Elvis-type ceremony. It’s also going to be Mikey’s 40^th birthday and two weeks later, my 45^th, so we’ll celebrate everything in one fancy fell swoop. I’ve also asked for a Tiffany diamond ring to seal our ten years of marriage.

I’m happy to wait for the ring, it’s a big expense and I think you need a milestone anniversary to justify it. Somehow, Mikey decided that he didn’t want me to wait, so he purchased a very nice ‘temporary’ ring and presented it to me beautifully wrapped first thing this morning. He even asked me if I’d marry him again. Nawww, he rocks!

The ring, of course, didn’t fit. So after I dropped our daughter to daycare, I headed straight to the jewelers.

When I met Mikey and when we became engaged, I was a size 8 (AUS) in women’s clothing. Years of cupcake abuse, chocolate obsession and not a lot of exercise later, I’ve (unsurprisingly) gone up three dress sizes, together with the size of my fingers. The skin between my wedding rings and my fourth-finger knuckle was so bulky; I couldn’t get my rings off.  

While I was in the jewelers trying to exchange my ring for a larger size, it became very clear that something had to be done about my bulging finger and the ill-fitting rings. I asked the shop assistant how I go about getting my rings cut off, and her response was that I should see a doctor. A doctor?! What does a doctor have to do with removing wedding rings? Do they have to suck the fat out of my finger in order to slide the rings off? Are there injections involved? Will it hurt? What sort of procedure is this?

She told me to talk to another jeweler down the road. “They would know more about it than we do,” she said. So off I went, with an additional, unauthorised purchase of a pair of love heart earrings.

The shop assistant at the other store was quick to point out that yes, they could remove the rings and that it could be done right there, in the shop, with little fuss. “Oh,” I said. “Will it hurt?” “I’ve been told this procedure calls for a doctor?” She looked at me like some sort of crazy lady and said, “I’ll get the jeweler.” Moments later he came out from behind the counter with some fancy jeweler tools and proceeded to talk me through the process.

In the end, it took less than five minutes and there was no pain at all. I hesitated and wondered if I should really be doing this on Valentines Day, but I was in the store and wanted to cut down my visits to the mall, so it was done.

I’m now waiting three weeks for the swelling in my finger to go down. My rings will be re-sized and my ring finger won’t feel so naked (or fat) anymore.   

Happy Love Day lovers!! SJx