Vaginas of Great Importance

(Most of the posts to this blog are pensive, heartfelt, and sensitive. This one isn’t. This one is me getting fed up with way too many ways in which the world tells me that the place between my legs is a bad thing.)

Internet, (may I call you Internet?) I’d like to talk to you about my vagina. See, I don’t talk about my vagina very much, and hell, as Eve Ensler puts it, no one ever asks. Vaginas are scary, mythical places deeply shrouded in all sorts of misunderstandings. They’re all hidden and secret, a very literal Pandora’s Box. Imagine if that old story was actually about Pandora’s “box”? Hey, I think there’s a story or a play in there somewhere – Oh wait! A METAPHOR? Who would’ve guessed!

Let me tell you a few very important truths about vaginas, since you and me, Internet, are so very close. I feel I can be honest about the very dark and enigmatic topic of cooters.

So before we start getting in depth (ha!) about my vagina, let’s just establish a few simple ground rules about it.

  • 1. My vagina is just fine the way it is.
  • 2. I may use words for my vagina like cooter, snatch, pussy, squish, and whatever else strikes my fancy. You, however, may refer to my vagina as Supremely Awesome Genitals of Win.
  • 3. If at any point the words “gross”, or “ew” or “nasty” enter the conversation in direct reference to the Supremely Awesome Genitals of Win, you will be banished forthwith from all of my vagina’s good graces. Never to return. Men, bi women, and lesbians, take heed. Straight women, you have a little more wiggle room obviously, but let’s pretend we have a little vaginal solidarity, shall we?

Okay, now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s have a serious talk about vaginas. First of all, let me tell you what my vagina does not need. It does not need this and it does not need this and it certainly does NOT need this. Please see rule number one, which specifies that the S.A.G.W. (needs better acronym) is just fine the way it is. So I have no need of vagomints, no need to have my vagina bedazzled, and I certainly don’t think it needs to be cut with a scalpel to look prettier. I also have no need of putting a razor on my cooter.

OH NO! I’ve done the unthinkable. I’ve admitted that (whisper) I don’t shave my pussy. Guess what. I don’t. I likely never will. Do you know why? Because that is a razor. You know. That object that is insanely sharp and often used to remove glue from windows. My vagina is not a window. My pubic hair is not glue. Guess what folks? I’m unabashed in my au natural vagina! Well, I shouldn’t get ahead (ha!) of myself (yeah that one was stretching, I can still ha about it) because I do trim a bit – like say, the hair on my head. But the day I dye my cooter funny colors, cover it in gems, or go under the knife for a prettier pussy is the day I eat my own foot with barbecue sauce.

So we’re clear on the lack of muff modification I’m willing to undergo, right? I think we’re ready to dive into the really important part of the matter. The smell factor. Oh yes, ladies and gentleman, I’m going to do it, I’m going to talk about the terrible horrible misconception about that “smelly”, “fishy” orifice. Let me clue you all in to something very, very important – particularly you menfolk. There are three possibilities when it comes to a woman’s vaginal odor.

  • 1. She smells fishy. This, just for your educational knowledge, is caused by the interaction between the PH balance of the vagina, and semen. That’s right guys, it’s all your fault.
  • 2. She hasn’t bathed. Is it possible? Yeah. It’s possible. I’ve met some folks who could use a shower more often and I admit, there is the distinct possibility that sooner or later you’ll run into one. But let me clue you into something very important that ties closely to #3. If a girl thinks at any point that there will be someone visiting the Pink Palace, she will be clean. It’s theoretically possible that she could be surprised by the sudden trip to her clam shack, but gents, lemme give you a hint: If she’s gently trying to put you off, it might just be that she wants to feel a little bit fresher for you. Take her up on that, or shut the fuck up.
  • 3. Here’s the final and most frequent possibility: That’s how a vagina is supposed to look, smell, taste, and feel. Guess what, that’s what the gods, goddesses, or atheistic nonentities intended. Guys and gals alike, let me clue you in to the Magic of the Cooter. It’s a self-cleaning orifice. It’s like an oven, only you don’t have sex with an oven. Or at least I hope you don’t. There’s a joke there connecting bun-in-the-oven metaphors and self-cleaning, but I can’t manage it right now so I’m leaving that up to you. Don’t let me down, Internet.

That’s right folks, vaginas lubricate themselves and clean themselves and all for the price of admission. What’s that price, you ask? Guys, do me a favor. Spend a full day in a pair of underwear. Then put it on your face. Then tell me that vaginas are gross.

While we’re on the topic of penises vs. vaginas, let’s just put something out there. Earlier this winter I declared 2010 to be the year of Mandatory Cunniligus Reciprocity. You see, in concept at least, I understand if someone wants no part of any oral sex. I don’t share that view, but I can in theory understand how someone would decide hey, it’s not my thing, I don’t want your mouth on my johnson, and I don’t want to lick your cooter.

However, the ones that can die in a fire are the men (and women!) who are all about receiving the pleasure, and then say “ew” when it’s their turn. Goose and gander, folks. If you don’t want to dive and dine, that’s fine, but don’t expect your partner to do all the snorkling and let you off the hook. So join me, men and women of the world, and respect the year of MCR. Or, MFR if you’re a guy who’s giving and not getting. I’m an equal opportunity diver, after all.

In closing, vaginas are important. They’re so important that even pluralizing them makes my spell checker freak out. They’re shrouded in mystery and distressingly hard to find. As Eve Ensler puts it, finding your vagina is a full day’s work. Never mind finding someone else’s. But let’s have a little love for the vajayjay, shall we? Because I’m sick and fucking tired of the notion that a part of my body can be so full of pleasure, can give life, can show a miracle of genetic development in it’s simple perfection… And yet be such a shameful, dark place.

I’d toss my fist in the air and say something about pussy power, but really I’m just going for some airing out of the cooter myths here. Airing out! HA! I crack me up.


~ by oniongirl13 on February 25, 2010.

6 Responses to “Vaginas of Great Importance”

  1. Word! Oniongirl. I snorted with laughter twice.

  2. This was a Supremely Awesome POST of Win! A fun bit of levity to go along with your fantastic deeper posts. Thanks!

  3. hahaha! awesome!
    i particularly like “Supremely Awesome Genitals of Win”

  4. This is the best thing I’ve ever read, ever. Hilarious!

  5. To first person. Vaginas have birth canals , a urethra, clitoris, vulva and inner and outer labia and a uterus I believe. Not much of a Pandora’s box. We’ve looked inside them medically you know. You need to explore your body if you don’t know what your own junk is. Penis goes in one whole, pee comes out another, babies come out of the biggest one. The rest is for closure and climax. Shrouded in mystery??? They are a reproductive organ. Solved.

    • Because apparently this wasn’t clear from the hyperbolic tone: Please look up the word “sarcasm.” I talk pretty graphically about my organs, thanks. I was mocking people who are scared of how “complicated” they are, since it’s a common trope in media.

      And no, I’m not publishing your second comment.

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