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

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  

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.  

A shade too dark

Do you automatically think 50 Shades when you see the word ‘shade’ or ‘grey’ in the title? I do. But that’s not what this blog is about.

Yesterday I looked in the mirror and decided I was long overdue for a stay-at-home-fix-my-face-up day. My eyebrows and eyelashes needed tinting and my lip, chin and nostrils needed waxing. I asked Mikey to help me and, of course, he said ‘yes’. My husband rocks when it comes to understanding what women need, he never questions me. And even though he thinks I’m naturally beautiful, he understands I need my little beauty treats every now and then. If it makes me happy, it makes him happy to.

What’s that saying…? Happy wife, happy life!

I was waxing myself in my office, which is also my beauty room. The room is at the back of the house and the window looks right onto the neighbours washing line. So I always close the blinds when I’m in beauty mode. We recently re-plastered the ceiling, so the room doesn’t have a light fitting. When the blinds are shut, all I have is a free standing lamp and a tiny desk light hovering above my wax pot. Not ideal for seeing facial hairs or mixing tinting solution.

I finished my waxing and began to prepare the tint solution. For the tint, I use brown on my brows and a mixture of blue-black and black on my eyelashes. When I pulled the tints out, the little stickers that tell you what shade the tint is had fallen off the black and the brown tint tubes. So in my dimly lit room, I was kind of guessing which one was which. And yes, you’ve probably guessed it by now, I put the black tint on my brows! Oh. Dear. 

Mikey said I looked like the mono brow baby from The Simpsons. 

When I reached into my tinting bag of goodies looking for my salon-strength tint remover, I discovered it had tipped over and it was completely empty. There was no tint remover to save me and, being Saturday, there were no professional salon supply stores open. So what did I do next? I applied more tint. This time, in a lighter shade of brown. I knew I would have to leave it on a long time to works its magic, so while the brow tint was on, I got Mikey to do my lashes (see photo number one). 

After waiting ten minutes, I washed off the tint. My eyelashes were perfect and my eyebrows, well, they were only slightly lighter, but they still looked black (see photo number two). So I did what every other clear-thinking person would do – I Googled my troubles and discovered that this has happened to many other women.

Phew… I’m not alone.

My fellow Google users suggested these treatments:

-       put lemon juice on your brows, sit in the sun and wait for them to lighten.

-       use lip-bleaching cream on your brows (but don’t leave it on too long).

-       alcohol (namely Vodka) or surgical spirit rubbed onto the brows.

-       mayonnaise, dishwashing detergent or shampoo applied to brows daily; and

-       simply wait for them to grow out!

Now I’m not recommending anyone else in the same situation try these. We do have to remember that our eyebrows are just above our eyes and we don’t want any of the above-mentioned dripping into them.

So after a mini meltdown and a lot of laughs from Mikey, I tried one more layer of lighter tint and decided I’d just wait for them to grow out. I don’t have any major functions on this week and I can stay at home for a few days and wear my big Jackie O sunglasses outdoors. It’s not the end of the world after all, it’s just my eyebrows and I’m grateful to have them.

How about you? Have you experienced any home beauty disasters? Leave them in the comments box below so together we can help other women with these small emergencies.

Until next time, happy grooming! SJx 

A Pee in Fiji

I recently returned from an unforgettable week in Fiji. It was our first holiday in four years and it was awesome.  I went with my husband, Mikey, our 3 year old daughter and my sister, Becci. Becci lives interstate, so we don’t get to see her much. We all thought it was a great opportunity to spend some quality time together, so we booked our Fijian resort for three adults and one child. I was wondering if the resort staff thought Mikey had two wives, but no-one seemed to care or were too polite to ask.

Before we left Australia, I was feeling pretty run down. I’d spent a solid six months getting the book finished, designed and published, and another month or so building a website and marketing the book before falling into a heap of exhaustion. I had been working day and night, while trying to maintain a home, parent an active 3 year old and do all the things we do in life. Three days before our departure date I developed a huge, ugly cold sore right in the middle of my lower lip. I then started coughing like a barking dog and a nasty head cold followed the next day. Great!   

I was determined to have a fabulous time, even though I was feeling pretty miserable.  It’s actually hard not to enjoy Fiji, the location is dreamy and the people are the friendliest I’ve ever met. Still, I was not well and I was getting worse. We arrived in Fiji on Saturday and by Thursday I was struggling to breathe or to leave the room. I made an appointment with the resort doctor and as it turned out, I had a nasty chest infection. I was prescribed bullet-sized antibiotics and an expectorant cough mixture. Hmmmm, this was the end of those yummy happy hour cocktails! 

During my all-day-all-night coughing attacks, I noticed my pelvic floor muscles weren’t performing to optimum level. Each time I would cough or sneeze, I’d do a little wee in my pants. Having only packed enough underwear for our 7 day vacation, I had to do something quick to preserve my stock of undergarments and to catch the wee - so I bought a packet of panty liners. What would us ladies do without panty liners and why didn’t I pack an emergency pack anyway? I was due for my period soon, so they should have been packed and ready to go.

Years ago, and part of my research for the book, my friend April and I went to pelvic floor classes. I always knew how important these exercises were, and vowed to keep them up. Yet, somehow, somewhere in my crazy, hectic life, I forgot to do them.  And now, I am paying for it. I fear I will be wearing incontinence pads for the rest of my days.  

Sooooo, as a reminder to me, and a reminder to you out there, here’s a brief low-down on strengthening our pelvic floors...

First, you need to find them. To feel the urethral sphincter working, try stopping the flow of urine midstream. Notice the anal sphincter muscles by pretending you are trying to stop yourself breaking wind and squeeze tight. To locate the vaginal sphincter, insert one or two fingers inside your vagina and squeeze.

• Squeeze and draw in the muscles around your back passage, vagina and front passage and lift up inside as if trying to stop passing wind and urine at the same time. (Great to do while you’re waiting for traffic lights to change or watching television – watch your facial expressions though).

• Try to hold the muscles strong and tight as you count to eight. Now let them go and relax. You should have a distinct feeling of letting go.

• Repeat the "squeeze, lift and hold" movement and let go. It is best to rest in between each lift up of the muscles. If you can't hold for a count of eight, just hold for as long as you can.

• Repeat this "squeeze, lift and hold" contraction as many times as you can, up to a limit of eight to twelve contractions.

• Try to do three sets of eight to twelve squeezes each, with a rest in between.

• Do this whole training plan (three sets of eight to twelve squeezes) each day while lying down, sitting or standing. Try to vary the positions you use so that your muscles get used to working in different situations.

To paraphrase Paris Hilton... "That's Hot!"

The Vagina Buffet has reached number 6 on Amazon's 'Hot New Releases" list in its first week. Thanks to everyone for the support, it's been a crazy ride!

Who invited a maxi pad to my wedding?

Yesterday was my wedding anniversary. I've been blilssfully married to my husband, Mikey, for eight years. We had an informal, early morning wedding by the beach, followed by a breakfast reception at Burleigh Heads on Queensland's Gold Coast. 

I got ready for my big day in record time - 45 minutes! The ceremony started at 8.30am, so no time for delays. Get dressed, in the car, drive to the restaurant and walk down the aisle, although the aisle had a little surprise guest I wasn't expecting.....

You see them in ladies’ room dispensing machines, you see them in the supermarket shopping aisles, but you don’t expect to see them while you’re walking down the aisle.

At the time of the pad incident, Mikey and I were living in London. We returned to Australia to get married with our family and friends in a restaurant on the beachfront. Very casual, very relaxed, no stress. My father was walking me down the makeshift aisle when, unexpectedly, he bent down to one side. Was he having a stroke? A heart attack? What was he doing? This was our wedding day damn it, he can’t keel over metres before the altar! As I hadn’t seen my friends in almost two years, my eyes were dashing around the room – I hadn’t even noticed the maxi pad my father was leaning over to quickly place in his side trouser pocket. Upon seeing the pad, my nervous giggle kicked in. Was I looking that gorgeous that no-one even noticed an unused sanitary napkin on the floor?

After giggling my way through most of the ceremony, we sat down to eat. People were asking me what the devil I was laughing about while exchanging vows. With all the excitement of marrying Mikey, I had totally forgotten about the pad incident and had to ask Dad to remind me of what had happened prior to the nuptials. I was wondering if it was a wedding day tradition I hadn’t heard of.  Did one of our guests have their period and drop a pad on the way to the ladies? I remember that when I was in high school, the mode of transport for a maxi pad was to place it in the top of your undies, against your tummy, holding it in place until you got to the loo – were women still doing this?

Did you have any uninvited guests to your wedding day?

This is an excerpt from my book, The Vagina Buffet, now available in eBook format here.

Girly Chat Room: Unwanted hair

So I was out to dinner with the girls last month discussing hair removing techniques whilst waiting for our mains to arrive. Andrea (meticulously groomed and gorgeous mother of one) piped up and said... "I've told Eamon (very understanding husband of hers) that if I have a stroke or I am in a coma, he's to pluck the dark hairs from my chin and keep my eyebrows perfectly manicured."

Wow....! WOW....! In all my years beside a waxing table, in amongst all the crazy requests and situations, throughout my twenty plus years of personal grooming, I had never thought to discuss this! Ever! With anyone! Sure I've openly discussed organ donation with my husband, but never hair-removing maintenance in a stroke or coma circumstance?

I guess this is a difficult subject to raise with loved ones, we never want to think of ourselves in this position, but note to my family and friends: If I am ever unable to physically remove unwanted hair from my face, I give you full permission to wax and tweeze my problem areas and tint my eyelashes, but please, PLEASE keep my eyebrow shape as it is, don't go crazy with the plucking, just the stray hairs underneath.

How about you? What's your unwanted hair story?