A routine pap smear exam today activated a flurry of memories
that brought about this post.
Do. Not. Enter.
If my vagina had a mantra for most of her life,
this would have been it.
My earliest memory of intrusion to this
vulnerable part of my body
was when I test rode my cousin Kevin's
10-speed bike that was much too big for my 10 year old body
and I hit a major bump in the road and the seat
slammed forcefully upwards into my little crotch.
I bled a little bit and tried to hide my underwear from my mother.
I knew that what happened wasn't natural yet had no language for it.
In 6th grade, we viewed a reel-to-reel film
about menstruation and "The talk".
It made little sense to me and
there was no way that any conversation about
this subject would ever be happening
between my mother and I.
The 1st girl to hit puberty at that time was the "go-to" gal for
all things period-related.
When I got mine in 7th grade,
I asked my mother where to get
the sanitary napkins.
She directed me to the bottom of the closet in
the bathroom and there was no further instruction.
Climbing poles with the boys introduced me to the
joyful stimulation of what I now know is my clit.
I wanted to climb them ALL the time just for this sensation.
My first boyfriend in high school
rubbed my crotch outside my jeans
and this was about as far as I wanted to go.
In college, I re-united with my high school sweetheart
and I let him go further.
I didn't really like sex much at all.
It was far better when I was drunk.
Consumption of a lot of booze would become
standard foreplay before the "act".
I still didn't have a handle on the fact
that what I really wanted was to have
sex with a woman and
penises did nothing for me.
So... I went on anesthetizing myself
in order to deal with heterosexual sex.
When I was 20 in my senior year of college,
I got very drunk at a party
held in my apartment.
A bunch of guys were visiting from another college.
Everyone went out to the bar except for me
and one of these visiting fellas.
I allowed him to go to a certain point
in my drunken haze and
then I began to say "No" and "Stop"
and I couldn't fight him off.
My roommates found me passed out
on top of a blood-filled sheet -- the contents
of which had poured out of my violated vagina.
My wrists were bruised.
5 weeks later, I never got my period
and began vomiting in the morning.
The pregnancy test was positive
and my outlook on life was not.
4 friends drove me to get an abortion.
It is a blur to this day.
I drank a pint of Jack Daniels
by myself in the backseat of the car
after the deed was done.
My first visit to a gynecologist was after this incident.
It was uneventful AND impersonal AND unpleasant.
I was prescribed birth control pills
which gave me free reign
during the next 8 years in my active alcoholism
to have my vagina
casually acquainted with a dozen or more
penises attached to men I will never remember
the faces of or names.
It is by the grace of God that I never contracted
an STD or HIV/AIDS.
And, once when I skipped a birth control pill,
I still got pregnant.
Divine intervention once again stepped in
and caused a miscarriage.
When I came out as a lesbian,
my vagina was finally ready for a different relationship.
I was still drinking when I found my 1st girlfriend
and have a lot of fuzziness about my initial encounter
with a woman. I do remember it was gentler and softer.
I was enamored with putting my mouth on a woman's vagina.
When I stopped drinking and met my former long-term partner,
I wanted to have more awake, pleasurable, sensual experiences
with my vagina.
There were some for the first couple of years that were incredible.
And then there was the disrespect of my vagina by my
partner's unwelcome, forceful fingers. Even after sharing with her
that this triggered painful memories, she made attempts to invade.
My vagina shut down.
Closed for business.
Sex was never the same after with her.
My vagina never saw the likes of her for the last 2 and a half yrs
of our relationship.
This is when I began to develop my own relationship
with my vagina.
I had an extremely voracious appetite
and imaginative fantasy life.
A couple casual girlfriends after the
ending of my long-term relationship
did not rejuvenate any life in my vagina.
They were only concerned about their vaginas being pleasured.
As I explore my femininity
and my renewed sexiness,
I am reaquainted with my vagina
on a whole new level.
She is free and open and loved and cared for.
And I am trustworthy now to keep her safe.
And very, very sacred.
No comments:
Post a Comment