“My cunt does not want to wear diamonds. It is not a ripened peach. My cunt is not a metaphor. It is the part between my legs.
It is for bleeding, for breeding, for fucking. It gurgles wordlessly. It swells up, sucks up and spits out. I have no desire to gaze lovingly at its reflection. I don’t want to name it or talk to it. I am not going to glorify it any more than I would glorify a pinky finger, a forearm or a toenail. It’s as amazing and as mundane as every other part of my body. I’m not a prude. I love deeply and fuck deeply. But it is not my vagina that falls in love. It doesn’t house my femininity; it is not what makes me a woman. It is the part between my legs. It’s sensitive and skittish sometimes. At other times it wouldn’t flinch if you punched it. How much can you really talk about your cunt? It’s a part of my body that can bring me both pain and pleasure. My partner adores it. I trim its hair when it gets itchy. I keep it pretty clean. The end.”
“sweetness and light, all my gushing hormotional rage torrents a thick anarchic mess and smoke of a billion scooters buzzing down the highways upon roads upon freeways upon carparks upon billboards and seemingly endless noise.
abrupt, immediate and helpful smiley nurses spread me out on a table. intense gazing genius and passionate eyes penetrating deep into my cunt, here I am once again, metal objects sliding in and out, nurses contorting my scarred sensitive glandular bits in an acrobatic performance like you couldnt imagine, cameras flashing from all angles, haphazardly plappin my clitoris in a funny way I laugh and smile and aaaaall my privacy feelings float out the window and the desensitized life sets back in.
here beautiful people of all sorts of body shapes and forms and beauty dance a dance politely as possible to avoid the masses of swollen flesh and severed nerve endings from erupting the mother load of pain they slowly and surely grow to love because, well, you gotta love your body, right?
vagina boy removed a bunch of over sensitive tissue between my vag and my urethra. i was awake the whole procedure… it was bizarre… a beautiful girl called jib who has massive calm in the stroke of your hand and glittery colourful eye colour poking through her mask stood close to me. she took care of my make cunt numb treatment earlier, she spread me out and slopped gunk in my slit and sealed me up with this liner type thingo. once i was in the operating theatre vagina boy did lots n lots of extra make cunt numb injections, and before I knew it, it was all business haha. i didn’t cry! yay. i didn’t cough. i lay there calm, focused completely on my heart beating and my lungs expanding as calmly to deflate to a relaxing calm zone of zen. i don’t know how long I was in there with my feet tied up high above my body, but it was hard to keep my extremities from going completely to sleep!
so. i survived.
time to chuck shitloads of antibiotics and various pills, visualise the magical process of healing cell by cell by cell. fuck i wish i could climb up on the roof and watch the big tropical storms splatter and flash lightening out on the ocean, all expanse and blowing humidity into my face n shit.
having a leaky eyes-drop-in-bowl fulls type moment… see, before i left australia i got blood and endocrine doctor boy to cut my guts and shove valerate pellets into my flesh, and turns out i agreed for him to use 200mg worth… Which is a considerable amount more than my hormonal receptors are accustomed to handle. So, I’ve been crying and crying my face has been leaking plaploads plappin plap, plonk!
by the time i was in my twenties self-guided, self-funded medical cost became a proud burden for me, seemingly unimaginable to friendly feminine souls but completely respected and understood somewhat. many years of hurt and confusion working long weeks in labour intensive jobs, my flesh and i endured, and we now live a fulfilled life, free, stimulating, ridiculous, celebrated, lumpy and scarred often appreciated.
a beautiful moment of clarity of thought and sweetness. sun up cunt. DAILY! yup. things are pretty freakin amazing.
one day at a time.”
“Growing up is a strange thing, and as a women you are usually taught to keep your vagina and all its taboos to yourself. We are very much conditioned in this society to feel embarrassed to speak up about sex, our moonflow (period), pap smears etc. How ridiculous. Women need to feel support from not just other women, but from men also. We can’t have men screwing up their faces at the term ‘period’ but see their faces light up as soon as ‘sex’ is mentioned. As far as I am concerned it is all sacred, as it is a place of pleasure and creation.
When I was younger I used to want surgery on my labia minor, as I have a-symmetrical vaginal lips. I waited years and years for one to catch up with the other! I like symmetry, and thought it was the universes way of bringing me out of my comfort zone.
I soon started to really respect the fact that I was a little different, and alas, found out I really wasn’t that different at all, because many women experience this. One of my friends told me that it was cute, because it looks like my vagina is poking its tongue out! Now my friends and I laugh about it, and they sometimes call me A-Sym, and I feel complete in the fact that I am me and I am beautiful. I would rather not live up to a playboy portrait. Lets get all the REAL women out here! and EMBRACE OUR TRULY SACRED CUNTS!”