Vagina Buffet

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     

Myths as Magical as Unicorns!

Were these myths alive and well in your family? If you have 3 minutes, these veterans of some 400+ periods are sharing their stories - brilliant!!

A finer vagina

This, is my vagina. Not my actual vagina, but artwork I made by painting my lady bits and squishing it onto an A4 piece of paper. I made the art by bending the paper over the edge of the bathtub, squatting over the top of it and pressing my vagina onto the paper. It was a gift for my husband’s 31^st birthday and he loved it. But before you think, ‘Wow, what a brilliant idea, I’m going to try this at home.’ Stop. Four visits to my GP, two major gynaecological surgeries and many embarrassing moments is what followed on from my evening with the water paints.  

If you’ve read my book, you’ll know the story intimately.

I really wanted to post an actual photo of my vagina taken by a professional photographer, but Mikey said he would divorce me if I showed the world my vag. So this is the compromise. You can see that I have pubic hair, a clitoris, labia minor and labia majora, but apart from that, it really just looks like a Rorschach Inkblot Test.

So why do I want to show you my vagina? I’m totally alarmed by the amount of women considering (and having) labiaplasty. Yearning for a ‘designer vagina’ seems to be on the rise, and shockingly, girls as young as 9 are asking for it. This, to me, is utter craziness. I’m not completely against plastic surgery of any kind, but if you are altering a part of your body because you think you’re not somehow normal, I urge you to reconsider.

As women, we see each other’s breast on a regular basis, but to see another woman’s vagina is no easy task. You need to be sitting, without underwear, with your legs apart – not your everyday scenario. I originally had my vagina photographed to be included in my book, but it wasn’t going to work unless I had other women’s vaginas to demonstrate just how different they all are. I had trouble finding ‘models’ and I took the decision to include illustrations instead.

One day, I would really love to show you actual photos of real women, with un-photo shopped vulvas.      

So ladies, please, if you’re considering surgery, don’t consult a soft porn mag. Talk with someone like me, or your GP, who has seen hundreds of vaginas. We will tell you they come in all shapes and sizes. They are as individual as you are and we need to stop waging war on our own bodies.

I’m all about sharing. If by seeing my vagina will make you feel better, email me and I’ll send you my photo. Genuine requests only (not freaky guys searching the web for a bit of fanny action!).

Until next time, share your stories, love your bits and don’t ever, ever put paints near your lady garden, trust me on this one! SJ x  

Hairy MacLary and the Airtasker Fairy

I have a very dark, hairy upper lip.

I’ve been waxing and bleaching it ever since Peter Donnally* (a fellow 5^th grader in primary school) turned to me in choir practice, pointed his finger in the direction of my upper lip and said, “You have a moustache!”

I was mortified of course, and this was the start of my long love affair with wax.

I usually wax once a fortnight, but if there’s a chance of another human being getting in close proximity to my face, I will add an additional wax to my fortnightly regime.

I’m the kind of girl who waxes her bikini line in preparation for a pap smear – please, don’t judge me.

So yesterday was one of those days where I knew another individual was going to be getting up close and personal. I was having an EEG, which is a test used to detect electrical activity in the brain. It involves sticking loads of small electrodes to your freshly washed head and a slightly larger electrode to your chest. Long story, which I am sure to blog about at a later date.

Prior to the appointment, I was helping my husband to change our daughter’s dirty nappy. I was stroking my lip hair asking him why he hadn’t told me my lady mo was becoming highly visible. When little Miss saw me caressing my face, she asked what I was doing and could she possibly see. I opened my mouth, pointed to the corners of my lip and scratched my dark hairs. Her immediate response, with a big smile on her face, was, “Mummy, you look like Hairy MacLary!”  

Now if you’re a parent, an aunt, a nanny or someone who cares for children, you will be very familiar with Hairy MacLary from Donaldson’s Dairy. For those of you not so familiar with this well loved book, it’s the story of a black, shaggy-haired dog strolling the dairy with his doggy friends, Schnitzel von Krumm, Muffin McLay, Bottomley Potts and Hercules Morse. They run into a cat and, well, I don’t want to spoil the plot, but you know how mean cats can be (sorry cat lovers!).

By this stage I’m making a beeline for my professional wax pot to rid myself of my ‘Hairy MacLary,’ all the time thinking I could probably enter (and win) Movember disguised as a man. Then later, I discovered this…

Airtasker, a website that connects people seeking to outsource tasks, is offering ladies an opportunity to hire a man to grow a mo for Movember. Brilliant! If I didn’t already have my own mo going on, I would seriously consider taking up this offer. Perhaps next year I’ll have people sponsor me NOT to wax for a month?   

Outsourcing hair growth – I’m always amazed at what internet people are willing to do for others.

Until next time, keep your wax pot warm! SJx

 

*Name has been changed to protect privacy.

Ms Hairy Legs

By guest blogger, Melissa Mansfield 

Last Monday at my daughter’s playgroup, one of the mums was wearing shorts for the first time since last summer. I commented on how brave she was, thinking that it was still too cold to be wearing shorts. “I know, look how white I am,” she responded, and as she stuck out a leg, “Oh, don’t look at how hairy they are, I haven’t shaved since Friday.”

This woman is naturally blonde-haired and I couldn’t see any hairs at all on her legs from where I stood, and I doubt I would’ve seen any unless I had been 2cm away with a microscope! And you know what? I can’t count how many times over the years I’ve heard women saying the exact same thing. This got me thinking about why women are apologising for having body hair to other women, who I’m pretty sure, also have body hair.

Now, if anyone should be embarrassed about having hairy legs, it’s me. You see, I wasn’t allowed to shave my legs at school. Yes, that's right, I wasn’t allowed to shave my legs in high school. I’ll give you a chance to let that sink in. Then I’ll let you know that I’m dark-haired, so my leg hair is also dark. You could see it from across the other side of the playground (well, that’s what it felt like at the time). Funnily enough, I only remember being teased about it once (I like to think it was my sparkling personality, clever wit and sporting prowess, that helped, but I actually punched the guy, so maybe word got around…)

I solved the problem to some extent. I might not have been allowed to shave or wax, and I knew my parents would notice if I was suddenly hair-free. So, my solution was…tweezers. Yep, I spent hours in my room plucking out every second or third hair, so my mum never noticed, but yet I didn’t look like a gorilla. I never understood those Year 12 feminists who were allowed to shave their legs, BUT DIDN’T!! I mean, what’s so feminine about looking like a man?

Anyway, the point is that if anyone should have a hang-up about being hairy, it’s me. It should have cast a life-long psychological problem on me, where I neurotically spend every day shaving, plucking, waxing, lasering… or at least have a dislike of gorillas. But it didn’t. I shave my legs maybe once a week – yes, even in summer. I often go out and notice people staring at my underarm region, and realise that it’s probably due for some hair removal. As for my nether regions, I don’t keep to a strict regime. Sometimes there’s hair there, sometimes there’s not.

The only legacy that not being allowed to shave my legs left on me, is that I always thought I was “hairy”. It wasn’t until I read SJ’s book, that I realised I’m not actually that hairy compared to other women. I thought I was the only woman in the world with a few hairs in her bum crack. I now know that many women have it all over their behinds, on their bellies, down their thighs and on their nipples. How did I get to my late 30’s before I knew this? Oh that’s right… it’s because women pretend to other women they don’t have any body hair, and they’re embarrassed to even display a 2mm growth in public.

So, ladies, no more pretending to other women that we look pre-pubescent under our clothes. After all, the woman you’re pretending to KNOWS you’re pretending, because they have hair too. Now, repeat after me: “I’ll never apologise for having body hair again. I’ll never apologise for having body hair again. I’ll never apologise for having body hair again…”

 

Melissa, a former bookstore owner and librarian, has put her career on hold to be a full-time mum. She is passionate about books and reading and when time permits, she edits books for self-published authors.  

Mikey’s trip to the pharmacy

My Mikey rocks!

He's the type of husband who is unafraid to tackle the sanitary aisle of the supermarket and is not fazed by anything vagina-related (I guess he has to be, being married to me).

I’ve recently taken several courses of antibiotics, and when I woke at 3am this morning with itching, scratching and burning, I immediately knew it was thrush.

Icky subject, I know. But it's really common and it will probably affect all of us at some stage, men included*.

When I woke Mikey to tell him my vagina was on fire (and I knew we were out of non-fruity yoghurt), I asked if he would go to the pharmacy for me.

"Sure baby, of course. First thing in the morning."

And with that, he rolled over, went straight back to sleep and started snoring. I've forgiven him for the snoring as he is buying me lady treatments and he's not embarrassed to do so.

Yes, my husband truly is a special man.

Mikey described his lady-product hunt as “uncomfortable,” but he survived and lives to tell the tale. I asked him to get me one of each product, so I could make an informed decision at home. The pharmacy assistant thought it was complete overkill, but Mikey was under strict instruction, and he knows not to mess with my lady bits.

Now that the treatment is working its magic and my vagina has stepped away from the spotlight, I thought it timely to remind us all how to avoid vaginal thrush in the future. And the list goes something like this:

• Wear cotton briefs and avoid wearing tight-fitting panty hose and synthetic underwear.
• Wipe your bottom from front to back after going to the toilet. This will prevent the spread of Candida albicans from the anus to the vagina.
• Avoid using perfumed soap to wash the genital area.
• Avoid using bath additives, douches or vaginal deodorants in the genital area.
• Avoid using perfumed toilet papers and menstrual products.
• Wash regularly but do not wash and dry yourself harshly.
• Sugar (including fructose) feeds Candida, so you should avoid sugary foods, fresh fruit and alcohol. 
• Consider changing your clothes-washing detergent and don’t use fabric softeners.

So tell me, would your partner go to the pharmacy and fetch your lady products for you? Or is this totally out of the question?

Until next time, love your lady bits! SJx 

*Thrush treatment for women is stored behind the counter, so there's no avoiding the chat with the pharmacist. Men, however, can use the anti-fungal cream off the shelf (usually in the foot treatment department). It's labeled as treating tinea, but it can also be used on the penis and surrounding areas. Always check with your GP if unsure. 

A tan with a little something “extra”

This morning, I woke up feeling fat.

Since my chest infection, bronchitis and urinary tract infection, my gym routine has gone right out the window. And to top it off, I now have plantar fasciitis in my right foot. My exercise regime is limited to a few non-standing activities while I’m waiting 3 weeks for my orthotics to be made for my joggers.

So to remedy my flabby feelings of bulk, I asked Mikey to give me a spray tan - this always makes me feel at least 5kgs lighter. The last tan he did for me ended in tears. I’m extremely fussy (and bossy) when it comes to tanning. When I tried to teach him a better way to tan my legs, he threw the tanning gun on the floor and told me to do it myself. I did so, but if you’ve ever tried home tanning, you’ll know that it’s super hard to reach certain areas.  After this episode, winter set in, so I gave tanning a break. This is one of the only times we argue (apart from his Formula-One-type driving!). But I have to say, Mikey does a pretty good job for a bloke!

I store my tan machine and we do the tanning in our huge laundry at the back of the house. 

Mikey was working from home today, so we got stuck into it before his work phone starting ringing. I set up the tanning tent and stood naked waiting for the cold solution to hit my body, only it wasn’t so cold and there wasn’t much solution coming out. I got Mikey to stop tanning and I looked at the gun. “Must be the nozzle,” I thought, so I turned it a little to the left and Mikey proceeded to tan me. The solution still wasn’t flowing as it should have been and when I looked directly at the nozzle, I noticed hair-like particles coming from the spray holes. So I pulled them out, one by one. I found this puzzling. I’m extremely particular about cleaning my tan gun, to the point of over cleaning and regularly checking it. Yet we continued regardless, but it just wasn’t happening. The tan was blotchy, runny and not doing as it should. I didn’t want to hold Mikey up as it was time for him to start work. So he did the best he could and I left it at that. I didn’t want to start an argument after that last tanning disaster!

An hour went by and I washed off the tan. I then went into the laundry to clean the gun and check out the situation with the nozzle. I unscrewed the nozzle protector slowly and took off the nozzle head. When I did so, [insectopobe’s look away now!] a big, brown, ugly, broken-in-half cockroach fell out!! Oh. My. Gawd! I was just sprayed with cockroach guts all over my body and my face! And the ‘hair-like particles’ I was pulling from the nozzle, were the cockroach’s legs!! Ewwwww, I’m going to puke!  

Please someone… please tell me this (or something similar) has happened to you? I’m feeling quite violated and icky right now.

But then again, I could have stumbled upon the next big beauty product. Roach Juice for skin! I’ve heard that women (and Tom Cruise) put nightingale poop on their faces and Oprah is currently promoting a new anti-aging facial cream containing human foreskin fibroplasts. Why not add a bit of insect guts to the mix?

In the meantime, I’ll sit and wait for my tan to develop and hope like hell I don’t break out in some kind of weird animal rash.

Until next time, keep your tanning guns clean lovelies! SJ x   

Book Signing in an Ambulance

Mikey said he married me because he knew our lives together would never be dull.

Last week, I had a radio interview with ABC Newcastle morning presenter, Jill Emberson. This was my second interview about the book and I was nervous to say the least. I’m not sure about you, but I experience ‘nervous poos’ before going into anything outside of my comfort zone. Without going into too much detail, lets just say my bowls were void.

Hours before the interview, I woke up and was experiencing slight fever and a mild case of the chills. Mikey got me some pain relief and I went back to sleep. When my alarm went off, my stomach butterflies took hold and the nervous energy was racing through my body like a Formula One driver.  I was breathing deeply and applying calming essential oils, but nothing was taming my nerves. I’m normally ok in this situation, but the interview was live and we were talking about pubes!

By the time I got to the station, I was feeling physically sick. “Just the nerves,” I thought, so I pushed through. The interview went well and Jill and her team was wonderful.

Once I got back into the car and the adrenaline had stopped pumping, my body started crashing. I called Mikey to tell him I was on my way home and to meet me at the garage door – I didn’t think I would be able to walk. My fever was rising by the second and every muscle in my body was aching. I was feeling disorientated and I’m really not sure I should have been driving.

Once Mikey got me into bed, I was finding it hard to control my emotions and my illness. I was blubbering and shaking and starting to become delusional. Mikey called our GP, but I couldn’t move, so he called the ambulance. The paramedics arrived within minutes and they immediately set me at ease. I guess you have to have some sort of personality in their line of business – the things they must see. I described my symptoms and told them about my interview that morning. They jokingly told me there was nothing they could do about my occupation, and once they found out my book was about vaginas, one of them proceeded to tell me his favourite fanny story…

“I once got called to the house of a 90 year old women. I walked into her bedroom and she couldn’t wait to tell me her troubles. She had ulcers all over her vagina and wanted me to see them. I declined and asked her how she had been treating them. ‘With that’ she said, as she pointed to a large tub of yoghurt sitting on her bedside table.  She had been treating her ulcers for days by smothering her lady bits in yog!”

I had to laugh. It was probably much funnier how he told it. Yet I was also embarrassed, for I have used yoghurt to treat ladies stuff also, but I wasn’t about to share that information and I was still really ill. The paramedics decided to take me to the local hospital via ambulance. Before they did, Mikey grabbed a couple of copies of The Vagina Buffet and told them to spread the word (I guess one has to promote the book at every opportunity, right?!).

En route to the hospital, the ambulance officer asked if I could sign the book so he could give it to his wife. Not your everyday request, but one I was happy to grant.

Once I was registered and admitted into the ER, the doctor started some tests. I had been sick for some weeks. I had had bronchitis, a chest infection, several head colds and a cold sore. The doctor examined my body, took a chest x-ray and obtained a sample of my urine for testing.

I didn’t have long to wait and the results were back. I had a nasty urinary tract infection. I was given antibiotics and ordered to rest.

I thought my illness would probably have something to do with my vagina – it usually does.  

Mother to daughter

I think most of us find it difficult to broach the subject, but I've already started talking to my daughter about her "giny." She's almost 3 and she's just started her first steps to toilet training.

She watches my husband and I go to the toilet, so we've taught her the difference between girls and boys and the importance of wiping from front to back after urinating.

At this age, "giny" talk needs to be simple and age appropriate. I never want my daughter to be embarrassed or afraid to ask us a question. 

In this current online world, our children are exposed to images much earlier than my generation ever was. So as far as our parenting goes, she's never too young to learn.

How about you? Do you have open discussions with your child/children? And if so, at what age do you feel it appropriate to start? SJx

Poll Results In!

Results are in for our first poll "Do you think your vagina is normal?"

Yes 50%
No 4%

Not Sure 20%
Can you tell me what a normal vagina is? 35%
I don't have a vagina 14%

(great to see the guys voting)!

 

Thanks again to all who participated, much appreciated.