My pu$$y has a mind of her own

The other day a dear friend said she had a confession.

“I read your blog.  I mean, I found it, I read one post, and then I stopped reading.  But I was feeling guilty about it.  I had to tell you.”

When she said those words so many emotions went through me, so many thoughts, but my body responded first and I crossed my legs, standing there, feeling myself involuntarily close my vagina, as if it was the locus of vulnerability in my body.

And my mind was saying, “oh my gosh, she will know the most excruciatingly embarrassing things about me.”  And you, my dear reader, will surely know what I might find most embarrassing of all.  She continued a flood of reassurance and explanation, and although I had told her to never look for my blog, and she had done so, I was very grateful that she had the courage to tell me.

I am also glad I’ve never written about her.  Phew!

But I guess it isn’t too hard to find, so she won’t be the first.  Star Child, a self-confessed computer whizz and obsessive, has no doubt found her way to these pages.  As has my bestie, particularly now that we are no longer speaking to one another.  After all, once that break occurs, the self-justification can flow.

Is that a real-life version of Mario Puzo’s Godfather philosophy of “keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”  I don’t truck with that transactional worldview.  Good people are good people even when they make mistakes.  Calculating people are just gradations of selfish.

But the physical sensation of my vagina actually closing was real and was what I was thinking about as my mind ran over all the other people who might have found their way to these pages…my kids, my ex, former colleagues…current colleagues.

A few too many people know me in my broader life for this to remain anonymous.  Oh well.  I’m not stopping.  And I won’t be shamed.

Someone I cherish describes the antidote to her upbringing as becoming a ‘whore’.  I wonder to a certain extent if this isn’t also my own.

Physically, having a vagina is very different than having a penis.  Boy oh boy.  I mean, there are certain anatomical things which are obvious, the incredible need to protect the nuts, for example.  And since I have now just had my vulva flogged for the first time, I am conscious how not into getting kicked in the balls I would have been, and how nice a vulva flicking can be.

And of course, I just love to write about all the wild things that my vagina is, does, and needs…and how it puts me in touch with nature, and a spiritual world.

One of my tantric teachers has suggested that I enter a room ‘vagina first’.  That I learn to speak to the world around me with my vagina.  That I see and feel the world with it.  Based on my reaction to what my friend revealed, it seems I have no choice in the matter.

What does yours tell you ab out the world around you?