There is nothing more boring than someone who goes on and on about themselves. And I feel like I’ve been doing this for a few years now, ever since this process began. And while I find it hopelessly interesting, egads, please don’t think I am actually like this. Well. Just a little bit. Mmm. Maybe too much?
Anyway, I am in a “rut” of sorts, writing all the time about gender this and sex-change that, when what I really want to write about is how to bake a cake. But nobody reads those posts. Just so you know, and you heard it here first, those are my favourite posts. My most read posts, on the other hand, are the ones that make men angry. Usually polyamory this and that, and that women are the ones who need and crave variety. It’s true. And so, my dear readers, we can conclude that the system is rigged.
In the meantime, what I want to talk about is what I do all day. Study my vulva. Wouldn’t you? My women friends are telling me that I know more about vulvas and vaginas than they do. Nope, not possible. The richest knowledge is lived experience. I’ve only got three weeks on mine. You are still my big sisters. But boy, am I fascinated by it. I have to study it carefully. Well, sort of.
I hitch my legs up in a homemade version of a gynaecologist’s chair. That means folding the duvet several times, putting a pillow on top, and placing my feet on it, so that my legs are raised. Before doing it this way, which was the way I was told to do it, I was doing it by opening my pelvis at the hips as a ballerina would, heels together and letting gravity pull my legs wide and flat. But I developed a fear that this was pulling on my stitches, so I have kept my legs pretty firmly clamped shut ever since. “Female chastity”.
Female chastity is not something that ever makes it into the fetish world, it is always the cuckold man and the cock cage. Why are there so few female chastity lovers? I have a theory. Because so much of daily existence for women, how society proscribes female behaviour using virtue to police her, is already a kind of existential chastity. So, why want more of what life is already dishing out? And I wonder if male chastity is a response to this, a kind of apology…as if to imagine that the male who enjoys it has the presence of mind to understand the root causes of his kink. Unlikely.
I have this jiffy little handheld mirror which is a genius design, where one side is “normal” and the other side gives a 7x magnification. I love using the magnifier to really get to know my vulva, its unique personality, the folds in the skin. It is still swollen, but much less, and more and more I can see how it will settle.
The process of dilation is time-consuming but critical. Don’t do it and the vagina will close, and quite quickly. A bit like the piercing of the ears. I did stretch my stitches a bit, and I have seen some real horror images so I get panicky and let my doctor know, and she was like, “stop spreading your legs so much.” The double entendre on a statement like that is too beautiful to leave out.
And the smell. This is something I both notice and do and are things I couldn’t have imagined doing. I smell my vagina all the time. I guess I am worried that I will get a UTI or something in my vagina…So far so good. But I am also wondering when it is going to start smelling like the secretions of a natal woman?
When I first started dilating, which was the day my bandages came off, I smelled my fingers, the dilator, and what did I get? The smell of cut beef. That is the closest I can come to describe the scent. It was not at all unpleasant, but rather fresh.