Health, Fitness, & Nutrition: New Articles’ Series From ArousedWoman!
Now that we’re moving into 2013, I want to start a few new series for my ArousedWoman readers that focus on Health, Fitness, and Nutrition, respectively.
These will be separate categories but they certainly intertwine in their importance. Overall health is required for vibrant sexual response — even if you’re not with a partner. You cannot be truly healthy if you exercise a lot but then eat junk food on a regular basis. Likewise, eating a healthy diet but not allowing your body to utilize its full range of motion can adversely affect the muscles, tendons, ligaments, even your bone density and skeletal frame.
There is energy transference from the food you eat; and if you ingest unhealthy, “dead” energy, you are unhealthy, “dead” energy. The body can mask the mounting long-term effects of eating the Standard American Diet (SAD) until it seems too late. However, no matter how old you are or how long you’ve been out of shape, it’s never too late to revamp your approach to your health. After all, erections and orgasms require happy muscles and healthy blood vessels!
Your approach to balancing your overall health should include stress-reducing practices such as moderate exercise and meditation(!!!). No New Age woo-woo stuff here, people. Science is finally catching up to what yogis have known for millennia. Meditation is very good for you! Not only is meditation great for your mind, but it is also beneficial for your body by increasing oxygen intake, lowering blood pressure, and controlling stress hormones.
On the short list for topics, I will be discussing diet choices for aphrodisiac nutrition, primal/paleo vs. vegetarian/vegan, vitamins and minerals supplements, as well as fitness tips for functional strength/resistance training, flexibility, and range of motion, and other lifestyle choices that will keep your body in optimal orgasmic health. This summer, I hope to begin a video series on all this as well.
You only have one meat-suit, people. Take care of it while you’re using it this lifetime. 
trish
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AskTrish: Man Asks About the Allure & Sexual Myths of Redheads
Trish, what is it about redheaded women that truly makes them stand out compared to other women? Are they harder to love/please or is that just a myth? Do people get burned easily by such a warm personality and fiery passion? Or is that just a myth. What are things that people need to understand about redheads? What sexual myths do you hear often that are associated to women with Red hair? Do you honestly believe any of them? Does that make men or women more attracted to you or at least curious in some way?
tigertwo1515
Hey, there!
Redheads are quite deserving of such awesome questions, so thank you!
“Redhead” is a ubiquitous term for the fair-skinned, often freckle-faced redheads of Ireland and Scotland. However, natural redheads are found around the world. Redheads have been the source of stereotyping — good and bad — for millennia, and it’s only been in recent times that being a redhead has been something to get excited about.
“Red” hair ranges from reddish “strawberry” blonde, to carrot-top orange, to ginger, auburn, and chestnut shades. In a 1995 study of redheads at Edinburgh University, Dr. Jonathan Rees discovered the reason for red hair is due to a mutation of the melanocortin 1 receptor, a.k.a, the MC1R, on the 16th chromosome, something he called the “Ginger Gene.”
Redheads have a greater risk of bruising and sunburning, but we also have a higher pain threshold. In fact, redheaded people can require up to 20% more anesthesia during surgery than non-reds. Perhaps this is why Irish people are so characterized as pugilistic — Gaels can take a hit and not feel it as readily?
Redheads have been a thorn in the side of world super-powers since at least ancient times. Two of the Roman Empire’s most notorious foes were redheads: the warrior leader Vercingetorix of Gaul and the uppity Iceni warrior queen Boudicca of Britannia were both said to have masses of flowing red hair. Both Mary Magdalene and Judas were also said to have red hair, and poor Eve is also portrayed as a redhead. Between the Roman Empire’s pagan enemies and the Roman Church’s dislike of the Bible’s freethinking dissidents, adverse stereotypes of MC1R mutants were created to slander redheads.
Some of the myths that abound with having red hair also tie in to myths about freckles and even fair skin. In medieval times, women were burned at the stake for having moles or “unexplained” markings on their bodies (supposedly succubi of the Devil).
Other myths that surround the heads o’ red include such gems like redheads don’t have souls, walking by a redhead on the sidewalk means you have to turn around, or that if two redheads have a child together, the child will be evil… the list goes on.
Natural redheads are also associated with having naturally large breasts. Artists exploit this from pin-ups to comic book characters to “Jessica Rabbit,” therefore redheads are rarely portrayed as small-busted. Thanks to the stereotypes of big breasts in porn, men automatically assume a woman with naturally large breasts is more sexual or more easily talked into sex — neither is true. But add that myth to the other fiery temper myths about redheads, you’d think redheads were the sexual scourge of the earth.
Growing up, I hated being ridiculed for my “weird” hair color and “weird” eye color. I even hated my freckles until an Indian dancer told me they were special because they were kisses from the sun. Somehow, him saying that made me feel better about my freckles. As for my hair, I was called “Peppermint Patty” and “Pippy Longstocking” more times than I care to recall, but I didn’t mind being called “Anne of Green Gables” or “Heidi.” Though, thankfully, I have never been called the offensive “Tampon Top,” as some redheads are.
Redheads in Bed
I asked around on Twitter, and I received a plethora of replies from men… so adding that to my personal experience of what men have said they love (and HATE) about me… the overwhelming consensus is that redheaded women are thoroughly uninhibited in bed.
Apparently, the outlandish stories about redheads being wild, sexually insatiable nymphomaniacs are neither a myth nor stereotype, but a delicious reality. Since by “redhead,” I assume you’re talking about the Gaelic fiery Irish redhead — or at least, I hope so — I can attest that redheads are amazing in bed.
The fire isn’t just for the temperament or flaming auburn tresses, though. We Gaelic types also tend to have hot skin. I have had partners who didn’t want to sleep next to me or even hold my hand because my skin is so hot to the touch. This is only one reason my nickname is “Lava.” And I find it interesting that in Ayurvedic medicine, redheads are thought to epitomize the elemental energy pitta, which is a mix of fire & water ( see?… Lava ).
Yes, we’re easy to anger (we’re Irish, duh!), but we’re also easy to laugh. Redheads love adventure, taking risks, and trying new things. We love singing and dancing with pure joy and full heart, and we want everyone around us to feel the same. We love spinning a good yarn and listening to a great story in return. Redheads naturally gravitate toward walking the road less traveled.
According to my non-scientific research, almost every man has a dream of being with a redheaded woman. I, myself, align with the “Women Who Run With the Wolves” type of woman — women who are close to nature and the natural, inherent freedom of woman. But then, I’m also a heathen pagan witch. So who knows?!
Maybe that’s what men see in redheads — we heed the call of wild abandon in life, in love, and in sex, when other women allow themselves and their sexuality to be repressed.
And we don’t take shit off anyone! 
trish
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LINKS:
OpEd: Want Me to Talk Dirty? Bite Me.
For some reason the topic of “talking dirty” has come up several times recently. Apparently, men are under the assumption that women want to talk dirty, that we like to talk dirty, that we live for talking dirty in bed.
What the hell?!
Actually, most women do NOT like the “talk dirty” part of sex that men addicted to porn seem to like, or men who still view women under the Maiden/Whore dichotomy — “bad” girls do what “good” girls won’t stereotype.
“Oooo, baby, yeah, fuck me. Fuck my pussy with your big fat cock, ram it in me hard…”
Really?
What does “talking dirty” do for the man? What purpose is it supposed to serve?
I, personally, would NEVER “talk dirty.” “Talking dirty” is a dumbing-down affectation of porn and perpetuates the compartmentalizing of a woman into labels and categories, separating her into disparate personalities — i.e., the good-hearted, nurturing woman who is a mother couldn’t possibly be associated with the multi-orgasmic cougar in bed. What better way to segregate the various aspects of woman than to ask her to say or do something so contrary from her everyday personality or communicative style?
Besides that, “talking dirty” is an insult to my intelligence and my extensive vocabulary as a professional writer and performer of language.
Yes, I call a penis a penis or lingam, and my vulva is my vulva or yoni. I may call a penis a dick, but that is rare; and I say testicles and balls interchangeably. Other than that, my vagina is my vagina, and my clit is my clit. The anus, ass, and perineum are synonymous for both sexes. And my breasts are breasts — NOT ANY OTHER HORRIBLE, DEGRADING TERM that MEN (and implant Barbies) USE FOR BREASTS. BREASTS!!! That’s what they’re called, and that’s what I call them. Calling various parts of my anatomy by other names — particularly “dirty” slang terms — disassociates me from my body, or places my body into parts ( J. Alfred Prufrock style) as mere “things” for someone else’s use and enjoyment, not mine.
On a side note, I will call ejaculate “cum” but having an orgasm is not “cumming” — since ejaculating and having (lots of) orgasms are two completely different functions. And yes, my vaginal fluids ARE the “nectar of the gods,” thank you very much!
As I wrote in my article “Me, My Breasts, and I,” I hated my breasts most of my life because of how men treated them and treated me because of them. My body image was molded through the perspective of others who did not value me as a person or my body as the physical extension of my self. It took a Tantric breast meditation to integrate my breasts to my body and my sense of self, to love my body. But now, to be considered “hot,” I have to “talk dirty”? Fuck that!
Why would I talk “dirty” when there’s nothing dirty about sex or being sexual? As I say on Twitter ALL THE TIME: “The human body is beautiful. Sex is beautiful.”
I’m beginning to think that the concept of “talking dirty” is for the sole purpose of distancing the partners from an emotional connection — to keep the sex as just physical as opposed to an opportunity to experience beautiful, mind-blowing orgasms. Even fuck-buddies can have a great connection beyond the physical orgasm — without the “complications” of the dreaded “relationship.” Even Tantra partners who are not “in love” would never “talk dirty” — that would be so disrespectful, particularly to the woman. The man is beautiful. The woman is beautiful. The experience is beautiful. No ramming or dirty talk required.
If you’re a woman and you actually like to talk dirty, I would love to hear from you — to hear why you like to talk dirty — and don’t say because your male partner likes it — ’cause then you’re doing it for him, not because the want and desire to “talk dirty” emanates naturally from within you.
I can’t “talk dirty” about the body or being sexual because I find them both to be wonderfully beautiful. And I felt that way long before I began studying Tantra.
So bite me.
trish
Anatomy: Penis Size: Measuring Up to Your Woman’s Sex Toy
Let’s dispel any “polite society” myths right now. Women have sex toys. We love them. Straight and bisexual women love penises, too.
While most men know how long they are, a lot of men don’t seem to know how wide they are. This is a shame since most women prefer girth over length. Many men may not realize that when women shop for sex toys, width is an important consideration. In fact, many women buy sex toys based more on the width than the length.
A toy that is penis-shaped and 1 1/4″ wide would not be considered by most experienced women shoppers; whereas, a penis-shaped toy that is 2″ wide or wider might be considered, especially as a gag gift. My personal toy preference is between 1-5/8″ and 1-3/4″ wide because it’s easier to handle and doesn’t wear out my wrist.
On a side note, sex toys designed to stimulate the female prostate are oftentimes more narrow and more curved than the usual dildo. For prostate stimulation, and especially for female ejaculation, wider is not better.
When it comes to sex, size really does matter because too long or too wide can hurt the woman. Better to ask up front what size dildo your woman likes to use and see how you measure up to what she prefers. This gives you an idea how compatible you two will be physically. For instance, if her favorite toy is 1.5″ wide and you’re 1.75″ wide, you know ahead of time that extra lube and extended yoni worship may be required before insertion. (Note: If you’re too shy to ask her about her sex toy, maybe you shouldn’t have sex with her in the first place.)
So how do you measure up to your woman’s favorite sex toy? Here are some tips on how to measure your penis:
Use a flexible measuring tape, not a ruler.
For length:
Measure from the base to the tip while fully erect. Measure on the top side of the penis, from the lower abs at the pubic bone. The vagina is only 3 to 4 inches in length, and can expand up to 50% when aroused. So a penis that is at least 6″ long will bottom out.
Do NOT press in to measure! The root of the penis inside the man’s body is rather long and can be felt (and held) below the balls at the perineum. Don’t press in just to add an extra half inch or so to your length measurement. Last time I checked, the woman’s pubic bone does not magically extend outward into the man’s abs during sex.
For width:
Measure around the widest part of the fully aroused, fully erect penis to get the circumference. Where this point is varies. Some men are wider at the base, while some are wider in the middle, and some near the head. Measuring the width is especially important for men who are widest in the top third of the shaft and the head, as this is the part of the penis most likely to be inserted into the woman.
If the head is bulbous and noticeably wider than the rest of the penis, measure the circumference of the head as well… just to know.
Now, you get to use that high school algebra you never thought you would ever need. To get the width (diameter) of a circle (penis shaft), divide the circumference (around measurement) by pi (3.14).
If circumference is:
4.5″ = penis is 1.43″ wide
5.0″ = penis is 1.59″ wide
5.5″ = penis is 1.75″ wide
6.0″ = penis is 1.91″ wide
6.5″ = penis is 2.07″ wide
7.0″ = What are you? Caligula’s horse?!
I’m not saying you should steer clear of a potential partner just based on penis size, but to deny the importance of sex in the relationship is Puritanical nonsense. Many relationships and marriages end because the sex was not pleasurable or the partners just were not compatible.
By the way, guys, don’t worry if you are in the long and narrow or the short and wide ranges. Every vagina is different, so regardless of how you measure up, there is a partner for you — you just have to find her!
trish
Related Articles:
- Anatomy: #TeamUncut Intact Natural Penis Collage for #ForeskinFriday (21+ NSFW)
- Anatomy: Male Prostate – the Male G-Spot
- OpEd: The Face of Orgasm: Is Your Woman Faking Orgasms or Not?
- AskTrish: Stop Ejaculating and Have Multiple Orgasms Already!
- AskTrish: Bisexual Man Comes Out But Girlfriend is Now Jealous
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Anatomy: #TeamUncut Intact Natural Penis Collage for #ForeskinFriday (21+ NSFW)
About a month ago, I put out the call for submissions for uncircumcised men to send in photos of their uncut penis. Sure, I got lots of teasing on Twitter, but I was diligent in my self-prescribed duty to look through lots of penis photos to create the collages below.
The purpose of the collage is to normalize the uncut penis in an effort to end routine circumcision. Men who were circumcised as infants face a number of medical issues from pain in the penis to sexual dysfunction and loss of sensation, not to mention the women who often endure painful friction sex with cut men. These uncut men also suffer social ridicule for looking “different,” or “nasty” or “not normal,” when in fact, the intact penis IS what is normal — the circumcised penis is what is NOT normal.
Circumcision is a barbaric, unnecessary procedure of sexual assault on a child and a gross violation of that child’s basic human right to be left whole, particularly in America where routine circumcision is so prevalent. What’s worse is that adult circumcision has been touted as preventing transmission of AIDS and/or HIV, and that is not true. Circumcision is blatant sexual assault carrying a Bible and wrapped in a flag — to paraphrase Sinclair Lewis’ definition of fascism.
For the collage, the men who submitted pics took photos with their phone or laptop camera. (Maybe in the future, we can do a pro photo shoot — with me supervising! YUM.) There is even a photo of a restored foreskin! Can you tell which one? (Hint: the pic is in Photo #1.)
Below, you can see the wonderful variations in the penises’ shapes in the shaft, head, curvature, and coloration. You will also notice how the skin covers the glans/head differently on different men and in various states of arousal. I particularly love how the foreskin covers and even extends beyond the tip like it’s the wrapping on a present — a present for me to open… Just sayin’.
In photo #3 of the erect penises, you can see how the foreskin slides back, creating the ridged band on the anterior of the penis and the frenular delta (triangle of attached skin) on the underside of the penis head.
To join the anti-circumcision discussion, make a profile on the brand new ArousedWoman Forum. On Twitter, use the hastags, #i2, #nocirc, and #circumchat, and use #4skin for talking about foreskin restoration.
All photo collages are Copyright 2012 by ArousedWoman.com which is owned by Trish Causey. If you post these photos on your own blog or social media page, do not remove the copyright notice (which I have embedded on every penis) and please provide a link in the Reply box below so I can see.
And YES, I hope to do more collages, not only on the penis, but the testicles, and to celebrate the differences in women’s vulvas, clits, and breasts. As my mantra goes, “The human body is beautiful. Sex is beautiful. Orgasm is natural. Reject any dogma that shames what is beautiful and natural.”
To the guys who submitted photos – THANK YOU!!!
ENJOY!
trish
Related:
- Anatomy: Male Prostate – the Male G-Spot
- AskTrish: Stop Ejaculating and Have Multiple Orgasms Already!
- AskTrish: Man With Large Penis Worries About Causing Girlfriend Pain During Sex
- OpEd: Fucking Cherokee Men (and Other People of Color)
- DailyOJ 08-29-12: Stormy Weather, Labia-gasms, & Emotion
Click on an image to enlarge.
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- #1 – Uncut Penis at rest or unaroused. *** Uncircumcised Penis Collage is Copyright 2012 by ArousedWoman.com by Trish Causey.. For #TeamUncut on #ForeskinFriday ***
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- #2 – Uncut Penis getting aroused. *** Uncircumcised Penis Collage is Copyright 2012 by ArousedWoman.com by Trish Causey.. For #TeamUncut on #ForeskinFriday ***
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- #3 – Uncut Penis erect. *** Uncircumcised Penis Collage is Copyright 2012 by ArousedWoman.com by Trish Causey.. For #TeamUncut on #ForeskinFriday ***
Submission Guidelines for #TeamUncut #ForeskinFriday Penis Pics to ArousedWoman
In a selfless gesture to help the women of America overcome their phobias and misunderstandings about uncircumcized penises, I am accepting self-portraits of men who are uncut, aged 21 and over.
Don’t get me wrong — I love ALL penises: circumcized penises, small penises, large penises, all of them. But some uncut men in the United States still have to deal with discrimination from partners who are unaccustomed to seeing, handling, or loving a natural, intact penis.
I recently saw a tortured comment from one uncut guy on Tumblr. He was so distraught by a girlfriend calling his natural penis “nasty,” he was seriously contemplating getting circumcized at his current age of 23 or 24. I was horrified — not only at the thought of an adult male choosing circumcision just to be considered “normal” in a culture that has no clue about what normal sexuality should be (i.e., not evil, not sinful, not shameful, not jackhammering a vagina), but this girlfriend then told all her friends about his “nasty” penis and he became the laughing stock of his friends and acquaintances — at a college, no less.
** Stepping up on soapbox: America’s Puritanical overlords and evangelical bullshit have so warped our culture, few people have a clue as to what is natural and beautiful… in penises, breasts, or vulva! And yes, I am one of those radical tree-huggers who views routine infant male circumcision and any female circumcision as aggravated sexual assault with a deadly weapon, with the perpetrators being culpable and deserving jail time. (Stepping down…) **
I have already had a few submissions, and while some are great, some are a bit lackluster — not for size or shape, but for the absolute disregard for ambiance!!! Jeez! Dudes! You’re taking pics of your penis for a woman!!! Why is the toilet in the background?!
So I’m laying out some Submission Guidelines.
- Photo must be of you and submitted by you, and YOU must be 21 years of age or older, regardless of where you live in the world.
- Photo must be a close-up of your penis and testicles, or of your body somewhere from your navel to above your knees, i.e., your face should not be in the pic.
- Multiple photos are permissible to show the way the foreskin moves/changes in different states: unaroused/natural, partially aroused, fully erect, etc. No cum shots will be posted (but you can send them anyway ).
- Photos should be taken in natural light with NO FLASH — using flash does NOT make your penis look inviting. (Sorry, but that’s the truth.) So take the pic near a window, outside in the woods or other place where you won’t be arrested for indecent exposure, etc.
- Higher resolution is better.
- Photo may be edited by me for size, color tone, etc.
- I HATE BLUE!!! So please don’t have anything blue in the picture.
- All men — straight, gay, bi — are more than welcome!
If in doubt as to tone and ambiance, PLEASE look at my Tumblr page. I adore sensuality. Crude porn shots is NOT what I’m looking for. I want to honor the male and the uncut penis.
Sumbit via email on the main ArousedWoman.com website.
P.S. Cut guys — feel free to send pics, too, and I’ll put them in a separate collage.
trish
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AskTrish: Man With Large Penis Worries About Causing Girlfriend Pain During Sex
Trish – I would like to ask a question in relation to the gentlemen who asked about small penises. I’m a man in my late 20′s and have been sexually active for roughly 10 years. In those ten years, I have grown to know that I have a rather large penis. I have lost girlfriends due to the sheer girth and length (8+ inches) as most women find it hard to accommodate me during intercourse. My present girlfriend is smaller in stature and has had a child but we have intercourse roughly once or twice a week due to her not enjoying it most times. I have tried different positions and a lot of other things and I am just curious as to how you would coach someone to help with this. I attached a picture just as a reference point. Thanks!
Sincerely,
N., in Ohio
Dear N.,
Thank you for such a great question! Whether talking about breasts or penises, our culture is yet again let down by the “bigger is better” brainwashing and phallic fallacies of porn. The stereotyped preference for a huge penis not only does a disservice to more modest members, but it does not realistically show the physical burden on the woman or the emotional and psychological impact on the man.
The great points I see in your post are 1) you care for your partner beyond just your physical gratification, 2) you seem willing to want to learn some new techniques, and 3) with having sex a couple times per week, you’re doing better than most men! However, pain during sex can strain the relationship, and while there are techniques you can learn, sometimes a woman feeling pain during sex has nothing to do with you.
Certain positions are better for long penises, while others automatically hurt the woman. The better positions for a long penis will be missionary, rear entry, and side-behind positions. Positions that can hurt the woman physically include woman-on-top and even legs-over-the-shoulders, depending on the length of the man.
Girth is an entirely different issue. For you, N., you better love the vagina because the only way you will be able to have sex that doesn’t hurt your woman is to resolve yourself to LOTS of pre-penetration attention on your woman’s body EVERY time. And your woman will have homework as well.
Most women want fullness during penetrative sex, but in order to accommodate any penis at all, the vagina must be properly warmed up. If the vagina and labia are not warmed up, swollen thick with arousal, wet from vaginal fluid or lube, AND the vaginal entrance wide open, then the vagina is not truly ready for sex.
The pre-penetration ritual should ideally begin with her mind, then perhaps evolve to kissing (her mouth), moving southward to copious amounts of breast worship, eventually leading to your fingers stimulating her vulva. The vagina is comprised of muscles whose job is to stretch for penetration as well as for childbirth. I’m thinking your issue may not be the inner vagina but the opening and first inch or so.
The opening to the vagina is encircled by the labia as well as the remnants of the hymen. These hymenal remnants can be like any scar tissue that is less pliable than the rest of the skin. The hymen also does not have its own source of lubrication so it must be lubricated with vaginal fluid or purchased lube. Warming up the labia — the lips — outside the vaginal opening is just as important because this skin is attached to the muscles that will need to stretch to accommodate your penis.
A great reason to switch to watching erotica is to learn techniques that warm up the vulva, or as she’s called in Tantra: “yoni.” Yoni massage is a time-proven technique in Eastern sexual philosophy but is not as widely known in the West. The vaginal opening can be warmed up with your mouth, tongue, or fingers in a yoni massage.
Not just oral sex, yoni massage is a hands-on Tantric practice of showing respect and devotion to the entire vulva — the labia, the vagina, the mons pubis — respect to the whole woman. Using lube or massage oil with your warm hands, slowly massaging your woman’s vulva for half an hour will stretch the skin, the opening, and the inner muscles required for comfortable penetration. In fact, midwives/doulas will have a woman’s partner do yoni massage on her during labor to prevent a tearing of the vaginal opening. (*Side note: Oil and condoms don’t mix.*)
Just inside the vaginal opening, the clitoris takes on a life of its own. Not just the little nub visible from the outside, the clit can be up to 6 inches long inside her body, several inches wide, and has 18 distinct parts. Forming a horseshoe over and around the vaginal opening, the clitoral bulbs are erectile tissue that swell with blood during arousal and grip whatever is inside the vagina as the woman nears climax. If the vagina was snug before, at this point, the vagina may be uncomfortably tight. For the woman, she may resist getting fully aroused or getting near climax to avoid discomfort. For the man, the squeezing of the penis may be so great he might start to lose his erection.
This is where lube plays an important role in sex. Even if your woman is young, healthy, active, and gets “wet,” use lots of lubricant anyway. Friction sex hurts at the best of times. When there is a size discrepancy between partners, lube may be your life-(and relationship)-saver. Here’s a link to the lube I use and absolutely love.
Your homework:
- Spend at least half an hour on her breasts and vulva — this might actually need to last an hour!
- Use your fingers, not just your tongue, to gently stretch the vagina. If you can insert 2 fingers, open them in a “V” and massage the interior, moving your fingers open and closed. If you can’t get 2 fingers in, she’s nowhere near ready for penetration.
- Use lots of lube. Lots!
- Give her a few orgasms with your mouth and/or hands first to make sure she’s ready for your penis.
- Do slow, sensuous sex once you’re inside, not hard, fast, thrusting friction sex.
- Don’t try positions that keep her legs together, i.e., her legs over your shoulders or rear entry with her knees together.
- Also, positions that bring her knees up to her torso shorten the vagina, which may not work well with a long penis.
- Look at the book Yoni Massage as well as the DVD Guide to Fingering: How to Touch a Woman.
The woman’s homework:
- Do solo yoni massage every day to encourage the tissues to stretch.
- Take a hot bath or shower before sex to warm the skin and muscles in the groin.
- Drink lots of water to encourage your natural vaginal fluids (and lay off the caffeine).
- Exercise your PC muscles by pushing outward, not just tensing up and inward.
- Push out on the vaginal muscles as the man enters you.
- Use your fingers or toys that stretch and relax the vaginal muscles.
- Trying relaxation techniques such as mediation and/or deep belly breathing to soothe your nerves and warm the pelvic girdle.
So what if you do all this and sex still hurts? If the painful sex has been going on a while, the woman may have developed a slight phobia now that she associates sex and pain. This can be helped with lots of talking, yoni massage prior to sex, and adopting a non-attachment philosophy during your time together. It is also possible the woman may have a vaginal, uterine, or pelvic condition that is contributing to the pain, and she should see her OBGYN for an exam.
You’ll be pleased to note that the vagina stretches (or shrinks) to fit a regular partner. So trying the yoni massage and slow sex techniques frequently may help your situation in the long run. Also, I’ve just updated the Store page on the AW site, so look through the books and DVD’s to further your technique quest.
The important thing is that you do not develop a negative outlook on your body or your partner. Your heart can’t help whom it falls in love with. With patience and some effort, your bodies can become as compatible as your affections.
I hope this has helped. Feel free to let me know if you have more questions, and I look forward to my readers’ replies!
Take care,
trish
* Read more AskTrish: AskTrish Posts *
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AskTrish: Man with Small Penis Wonders If He Can Fully Satisfy a Woman
Dear trish,
I was born in a Muslim family and had circumcision at an early age, and I think the doctor messed up or something cause I have a really small penis. The question is — does size actually matter to fully satisfy a woman? My gal and I have been having sex, enjoying various positions. She says she is happy and she actually does have an orgasm most times. She also does all she can to pleasure me to the highest during foreplay and even sometimes taking control of the sex. But, since I’m on the smaller side I want to know does size matter cos my gal hasn’t had any other partners so she doesn’t know the difference. We are happy together, but this is a matter of curiosity and maybe to help my gal explore something better.
Anonymous, in Mangalore, India
Dear Anonymous,
Penis size is an issue that is debated in the neuroses of men, but not so much for women, in my opinion. You actually have several issues going on here, but allow me to address circumcision first.
Routine infant male circumcision and any female circumcision is not medically necessary and should be considered sexual assault, especially since the child cannot give informed consent to the procedure. In males, circumcision can damage the penis head as well as the shaft, not just the foreskin. So there may be a chance that the length of your penis has been “shortened” due to a botched circumcision that left the skin too tight. Also, some reports say infant circumcision is responsible for 60% of erectile dysfunction in adult men. Not to get on my anti-circ soapboax, but there are methods of foreskin restoration that might help loosen the skin of the penis so that your erections might become “fuller.”
You sound young to me, perhaps in your early 20′s, and since your girlfriend has not been with anyone else, I’ll assume she is also in that age range. The fact that she orgasms at all during penetrative sex means you’re doing something right! Female orgasm statistics consistently show that 70% of all women have never orgasmed during penetrative sex, with that percentage being lower for women in their 20′s. The best way to make sure your woman orgasms is to be well-versed in female sexual anatomy. There’s more to our genitals than just the clit or the G-spot, and so many more kinds of orgasms than just clitoral or vaginal. (Just as there are more kinds of male orgasm than just penile/ejaculatory.)
Your concern over the size of your penis — when clearly, you’re doing just fine in the bedroom — may be a result of culture and media influence. What porn and media don’t explain is that the average length of the vagina for all women, regardless of height, build, ethnicity, or childbirth, is 3 to 4 inches. When fully aroused, the vagina can expand in length by 50% and widens at the top, so the maximum length of the vagina is around 6 inches.
As a woman, I can testify that a penis that is too long (9-inches+) can hurt! So being on the ” short” side (5-inches or less) when fully aroused is not a bad thing. Remember, the vagina will only be about 6 inches when fully aroused. You just have to know what positions work best for a smaller penis, such as woman-on-top. If I had to choose a penis size, I’d go for a fat, thick penis over a long penis any day of the week. But since penis size isn’t something I consider when choosing a sex partner, I suppose it doesn’t really matter.
Please note, however, that in order for a woman to be truly aroused and ready for sex, she needs at least 20 minutes of “foreplay” so that her own erectile tissues can begin to fill with blood as well. This 20 to 30 minutes of arousal-play also allows the woman’s mind to shift from mundane issues to relaxing into a sexual mode.
As for satisfying a woman fully, regardless of penis size, I’m assuming you have fingers, a mouth, a tongue, even a big toe, all of which can be used in the physical side of sexually satisfying a woman. However, a woman’s most important sexual organ is her mind, that non-physical field that exists in the ether around the physical cranium. Start with her mind, then engage her body, beginning with her skin, and her breasts (if she likes breast stimulation), and sensual massage. Allowing the woman to relax into the moment is the most important step to help a woman orgasm.
Since you say she has orgasms “most” of the time, I’m assuming you have an orgasm every time. The activist part of me says the sex should not be over unless both partners have at least one orgasm. The horny woman part of me wonders why are you even entering her vagina with your penis if you haven’t already eaten her to a few orgasms with your mouth on her genitals?! Oral sex on the woman is an almost guaranteed orgasm technique — your mouth sucking her clit and labia with a finger or two in the vagina and/or anus drives most women to passionate madness.
***As a shameless plug, I’m in the process of developing my own orgasm training method, so be sure to check back here for updates on when it’s ready.***
Experiment with positions and techniques that you both find interesting and arousing, and just enjoy the discovery of your own bodies and your sexual preferences. Communication should be the foundation of your relationship anyway. Keep in mind, that sex is supposed to be enjoyable and fulfilling, not a competition or a race. Relax, experiment, discover. If you love the journey, the destination is bound to be wonderful.
trish
* Read more AskTrish: AskTrish Posts *
* AskTrish a question: AskTrish *
DailyOJ 09-29-12: My 40th Birthday & First Ever Nude Photoshoot
Just a year ago, I dreaded the idea of turning 40. Just as a decade ago, I dreaded turning 30. Turning 30 was hard, perhaps because I was still in the crux of a life I didn’t want, trying to make sense of that life, and wanting desperately to get back to being true to myself.
Almost two years, I left that life I didn’t want and started over. I had built up my radio show, was a professional theatre writer, an award-winning composer, and mom to a cranky but wonderful tween. And while I didn’t (and don’t) have a car, a TV, or even a livingroom couch, I had my freedom. That was paramount. I was free. I AM free. And anything else is just crap to get through. But mostly I am happy — so much happier than I have been in the past 16 years, it really is unbelievable.
The purpose of the photoshoot was for a calendar submission. (Don’t know yet, if I made it in.) But just doing it was scary and invigorating. Though my male friends on Twitter constantly tell me my body is fine, I am still coping with this dual personality that exists within my perception of myself. I still feel 19. My body was amazing back then, thanks to years of ballet, theatrical dancing , belly dancing, and performing in Musical Theatre. Now, all these years later, after being overweight for years and having had a child, my body has that “lived in” look. Stretch marks. It’s all I saw when I looked in the mirror for the past 14 years. I saw my flaws and practically counted all the ways a man would never want me because of how I look.
Oddly enough, doing my Tumblr page has been a great source of readjusting my attitude toward myself and my body. For all the sex confidence I have (yes, I AM fabulous in bed! ), the idea of being naked in front of a man again was almost terrifying. Since starting this blog, I’ve openly dealt with issues that I had only previously stuffed down inside me — to my detriment. Now that these wounds have been given the light of day, I feel them healing. Having done the photoshoot, other wounds surfaced, but already they are healing as well.
The day itself was a bit crazy. We had thunderstorms and flash flooding outside. Inside, I was trying to work, then get ready, shaving everything with a new razor that left razor burn in the most inopportune places. With the rain, curling my hair was impossible, so I had to use the curling iron to smooth out the Irish frizzies and tame the wild woman ends. I was worried about Chipmunk the Squirrel who had been more independent lately, but I was afraid the storm might bring back bad memories for him of his fall the day before Hurricane Isaac, when I found him. At one point, I had so many lamps on, I short-circuited the breakers to half the apartment. I asked the Universe to be with me as I flipped the breakers a couple times. Thankfully, there was light. Otherwise, the photoshoot would be a no-go, and I really wanted to do this ON my 40th birthday.
In fact, the whole day seemed to be a test of one kind or another, as if the Universe wanted to make sure I really wanted to do this, and how far would I go to make sure it actually happened. This need to do this on my birthday come hell or flash flooding’s high water was important to me. One thing I haven’t written about here is the slump I have been in for the past 6 months, a slowed down, introspective journey I had asked for to discover my Yin, but I had no idea how bad it would get. I will write about it soon, but it is a tale for another time.
The photoshoot itself was an eye-opener. The photographer was a friend from high school that I hadn’t seen since graduation. I had sent her info ahead of time of colors, set up, and what I wanted the pose to be so she would know ahead of time. Apparently, this was only her second nude/implied nude shoot, and it was very obvious within the first few shots. Also, the fact that she’s a size 0 made me even more self-conscious. At this point, I was thinking I would have preferred a male photographer so I could feed off the male energy.
In reviewing a few of the photos in the camera, she seemed not to know how to talk about my body, since my body is soooooo well-rounded. She even made a comment, “Yes, I can see how we want to do this differently to avoid that.” That was the rounded curviness of my breast and butt. I said, “Actually, I really like that. That’s exactly what I was going for.” “Oh,” she sounded surprised. All the doubt about my body came flooding back and it was difficult to get out of that head-space. I did do some actual nudes, but was so filled with self-doubt at this point, they will never be seen by anyone but me.
By 11:30 p.m., we were wrapping it up, finally getting some implied nudes I can be happy about. I’m not happy that I didn’t get a nude shot I liked, but hey, that gives me a goal for the future… with a male photographer.
All in all, it was a great 40th birthday that began with amazing orgasms in my bed (see picture at the top of this post), and ended with important insights into myself, my self, my body, and why I should never allow media, culture, or other people to affect my perception of my body or anything else about me.
Aroused and shutter-bugging,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s DailyOJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
DailyOJ 08-17-12, Part 2: Lying Broken in Pieces As I Heal
* Read Part 1 here! *
Glad to have movement and feeling in my back again after the excruciating pain that started a week ago, I was really looking forward to resuming my orgasmic awakening routine. After all, my big, loud O’s had been on lock-down almost all summer while I gorged on stealth and spontaneous orgasms (now to be known as SASO). Getting back on the path with KSMO & OM-touch was a milestone for my 1-year multi-orgasmic anniversary.
The back pain had been a curious development. Since losing almost 70 pounds from my highest weight, I know all about pain — back pain, hip/sciatica pain, lower back, neck, every joint imaginable pain, lower extremities/pedal edema, crazy hormones, all while being miserable inside as a person as well.
Similarly to my session on 08-08-12, I laid in bed for a while… a long while… as the majority of pain had melted away rather miraculously. I don’t know why I had started this “tradition” of laying in bed, allowing my mind to wander, absentmindedly caressing myself. In the summer, this was practically the extent of my sexual activities — with little privacy to pursue much fun with Sparkles, the SASO’s were exceedingly, surprisingly satisfying. Now able to arch my back, the nipple O’s also made a glorious return.
The OM-touch orgasms were not instant as they usually were, but rather needed a few strokes on the upper left (my left) part of my clit to get going. The right side of my clit is also very receptive to OM-touch, and I gratefully accepted the back-arching orgasms from that side as well. Apparently, with the nipples unresponsive due to pinched nerves in my back, my clit had been less responsive to touch as well — not surprising since the the nipples are wired directly to the clit.
After an incredible length of time that didn’t feel like any time at all, I looked at the clock. I wasn’t even sure I had time to get the 20-minute session in much less the after-session fun. More than an hour had passed. I decided to begin the 20-minute KSMO session, starting in my old-school style — with my nipples. I had worried that starting back with KSMO had diminished my nipple/stealth orgasms in a phase of integration. This can happen as you sojourn on any energy-based orgasm journey. A big breakthrough explodes then fades — or integrates — as new experiences rise to the surface. However, I think the issues this past week with the SASO’s were due to the back pain/heart chakra blockage.
I did the 20 minutes, moving to my clit and prostate for the last 10 minutes. It all felt wonderful, and I was so glad to be able to move my hips again. I was cutting it close to time, and with only an hour left of free time, I decided not to go for the full Sparkles treatment and just lay in bed. I took mental notes of all the energy zings all over my skin, the pulsating inside my vagina, the swelling of my prostate (!), the pulsating throbbing of my PC muscles, my anus, and the continuing circles and figure-8′s of my hips that I was not doing intentionally.
After a half hour of this, the “after-O’s” pulsed more slowly as they began to simmer to the background — notice I didn’t have a “big” O, and yet I still had the after-O’s! Oddly fulfilled and thankfully not hurting, I got dressed, made up my bed, and walked (slowly) back to my desk.
It occurred to me later that lying in the bed before any stimulation or session caress or sounds had been an important aspect of my orgasmic awakening. If you remember, I shared this article from another site on the concept of “lying broken.” That being “broken” is one of those glass half-full situations. You can see yourself as a shambles of what you were, or you can recognize that the pieces are now truly yours to put back how you want to be renewed.
This, then, was another eye-opener for me. Though this experience happened on Friday, 08-17-12, and the Todd Akin “legitimate rape” debacle occurred over the weekend, remembering the “lying broken” article became a welcome glimpse of hindsight. My heart chakra probably was triggered by my return to KSMO because it was my return to working on me. For the past several months, I have been going through what I call the “Dark Side of Yin,” a chronic lethargy as old wounds churn at the core of me. Not being alone during the summer, I had no real time or space to meditate or focus on myself in a self-healing capacity. I also think some of the Kundalini awakening contributed to my turning inward so significantly — the coiled serpent that began its rise from slumber at my root chakra is making its way through my energy centers, and it appears my heart chakra was the wheel that needed to be cleansed this past week.
My work is not over for my heart chakra, but I do believe I have made great strides toward reassembling the pieces of my broken self into the newly forming me — as a whole woman. And how fitting that this is occurring as I am about to turn 40. I am still putting the bad experiences behind me, but more than ever I know that the pieces are mine to assemble as I see fit. If I don’t like what I see forming, I will go back to lying broken until I once again have a clear vision of my self as a whole human being. And unlike my afternoon schedule, I can take my time. That’s why I’m here on this plane anyway.
Aroused and broken but healing,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s DailyOJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
DailyOJ 08-17-12, Part 1: Twitter War Triggers Blocked Chakra Energy
I’m writing this a few days after the fact for a couple of reasons:
1 – The events of this day were very powerful to me on an orgasmic and a human level. I needed time to process them.
2 – The GOP had to go all stupid (again), and the entire weekend was dealing with the idiocy of rape culture.
So back at the drawing board here… my headspace has been so filled with the memory of my rape and reading readers comments, telling me about their rapes, that Friday seems blurry… like it was 18 years ago and the rape was last week… or yesterday…
But the events of Friday were important so I will detail them, though perhaps not as elegantly as usual.
Friday morning began with getting my daughter on the school bus, after which I caught the local bus to the grocery store. While shopping in the produce section, a small Twitter war began in which I was being ridiculed for being from Mississippi — as usual, and also as usual, made to be at fault for all of Mississippi’s past ill history. Of course, I stood up for my state — my point being that Mississippi has a flawed past as do most states in this country. (What? New York was a slave state?! Yes. Quelle surprise! ) The New England states just like to think they’re perfect. They’re not.
The perception of Mississippi will never change because the media and American culture like having someone at whom to point the accusatory finger, to blame for all the bad things in the U.S., which conveniently keeps them from looking in the mirror and fixing their own problems. The news never reports the good things that happen here — just the bad… unless that bad thing is Hurricane Katrina — that the media reported hit New Orleans — it didn’t. The northeastern eyewall went over my house in Gulfport, MS, while we were inside, and I’ve got the coordinates to prove it!
As you can see, a lifetime of Post Traumatic Stress came up with that one stupid Twitter altercation, that ironically was with friends, but I was the butt of all the jokes and the lone voice for what is good and nice about Mississippi. This hurt greatly that the ridicule came from friends because the incident triggered deeper hurts that I have held on to since childhood.
Being from Mississippi, I am not good enough. For anything.
In dealing with the Broadway world for my day job and my radio show, I always dreaded being offered press seats that I would have to turn down because I don’t live in New York. Invariably, they would ask me where I live (because how can a person cover Broadway and not be in New York?! (From working very, very, VERY hard!). I dreaded giving the answer, but always said with a smile on my face and a lilt in my voice: “On the beautiful Mississippi Gulf Coast.”
Silence. Shock on the other end… “Well, you don’t sound like you’re from Mississippi!”… “Oh, really? And how do Mississippians sound?” (Like TV and Hollywood stereotypes!)… “Well, um…”… Then I feel obligated to explain my mother was a literature professor and my father was a physics teacher turned physicist for the government, to somehow prove Mississippians aren’t stupid. In fact, when I bought my new smartphone last year, I got a Manhattan number so at least when I ring the press agents, it just saves time not having to explain my area code… except that after three years, they know me now.
Having to defend myself just as an intelligent, well-read, educated, erudite ActivistArtist(TM) on a daily basis just gets old. It’s exhausting. And I realized it’s something I’ve been doing since I was a kid. Trying to prove my worth as a human being regardless of one thing or another — the color of my skin, my freckles, my religious choices as a Pagan/Witch, being bisexual, having a child out of wedlock in a Red State, dealing with being molested as a kid, thinking I was doomed to Hell thanks to Catholic brainwashing, dealing with being raped as an adult and not reporting it for fear of public ridicule, losing my identity as a person and an artist thanks to my asshole marriage, regrouping with my musical work that was stalled because of the destruction of Hurricane Katrina, dealing with the bad economy, the BP Oil Spill, then becoming a single mom in an affluent artists’ hamlet. I’m just tired.
So Friday, after a week of horrendous back pain which began after I started back with KSMO, I got home, sat down at my desk, and had a really good, gut-wrenching cry. Not a pretty, dabbing-the-eyes cry. No, this was full-out, cathartic wailing.
The crying brought me to my source of the pain — the fear that I am not good enough to be loved by anyone. That if someone did love me, I have no idea why he would. The irony is that I know I’m kinda fabulous in many ways. I’ve got the bustline and the music fellowship grants to prove it. But deep down… deeeeeeeeeeep down, I still have issues…. being told I was ugly as a kid, being told I was fat, that I should kill myself, that I’m going to Hell — for numerous reasons, then actually being fat as an adult, losing my sense of self and place in this world, hearing my asshole ex-husband’s ridicule of my singing voice and my original music plus his hurtful words regarding my body if I got breast reduction surgery, complaining that I got too wet during sex, that I shouldn’t do anything during sex because he would get insecure.
At times, it just feels like I’ve spent 39 years of doing nothing right.
Within an hour of this little emotional breakdown, I noticed my back was loosening up. The pain, I then realized, was in a place in my back that I don’t normally get back pain. Usually, the knots are along my bra straps horizontally across my ribs and vertically in both shoulder blade areas. This pain was in the center, at the spine, directly behind my heart. I jokingly thought that maybe the crying had knocked something loose. Then I thought about that again. The excruciating pain I had had for a week was literally almost gone. The pain that was left was not the pain of clenched muscles contracting nerves (anymore), it was more like sore muscles, exhausted from clenching and spasming for the past week. I could move through those vertebrae again — and I had not been able to do that all week! The immobility through my back had prevented most kinds of orgasm — the stealth, Kundalini O’s make my back arch so there was no way to do that as I was accustomed… the few times I had stealth O’d, I literally tucked my pelvis so my back wouldn’t try to arch — not nearly as much fun. The nipple orgasms were completely nonexistent because the nipple’s nerves stem straight off the spinal cord in that exact area of my pain — the area of my physical heart and my esoteric/Tantric heart chakra.
Looking at the time, I figured I’d better get on with my session for the day. With the weekend coming up and the prospect of my period starting Monday-ish, I knew vaginal O’s would be another week away if I didn’t get this sh’O on the road… Now that my back could arch, I wanted orgasms!!!!
* Read Part 2 here! *
Aroused and unblocking,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s DailyOJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
DailyOJ 08-09-12: The Return of the Tingles
In similar fashion to the return of my afternoon delights yesterday, I had yet another KSMO session and a date with Sparkles, my purple silicone boyfriend. This was concurrent to yesterday’s session, which Jack does not recommend for newbies. However, I attained Adept status a couple months ago (apparently), so I kinda get to do what I want. (Neener-neener.)
I had already decided I was going to do back-to-back days about a month ago — the longing to be free again had been so poignant and clear. (“Man, I just need to be fucked already — and SOON!”) I had been feeling the almost overwhelming need — craving — to experience that wild, bed-frolicking, hip-rollicking abandon of insatiable passion and out-of-body orgasms that I had glimpsed in the Fall and Spring. I knew I couldn’t gain it all back overnight, but I figured a few back-to-back sessions wouldn’t do any harm, especially since the weekend is right here, and I’d be back on the wagon. (Sigh.)
Essentially, today’s session was much like yesterday’s. I laid in bed an hour in some stupidly ridiculous bliss of just being okay laying in bed being stupidly ridiculously blissful. My mind wandered. That was okay. I stealth O’d. That was fabulous. When I was ready for KSMO, I did KSMO. I felt some tingles which were a good sign, but I didn’t try to make anything happen. I finished the session, fucked Sparkles, cried, lather, rinse, repeat.
Okay…. Here’s where it got interesting. In the time afterward, I was paying attention to my body — what I was feeling, where, and how; what I felt emotionally, mentally, intellectually about what I was feeling physically, energetically, spiritually.
I noticed the crying afterward had been delayed by a couple minutes. This felt strange not to be immediately emotional. The orgasms felt good. What was the problem? I remembered this happened yesterday, too, and I felt the same conflicted response to the quasi-ambivalent emotion. The crying happened, and when it did, the feelings I felt were not just caused by the stimulation of my A-spot to induce the emotional uterine orgasm (that sounds so mechanical). What I felt were feelings of emotion that were tied to insecurities and uncertainties about finding a partner: why would any man want to be with me, why would a man love me, what did I have to offer? I had no answers, so I cried some more. I was too involved in the unexpected pity party to pay attention to whatever might have been happening physiologically in my genitals. I can only assume my body went through its usual after-O’s. But I don’t know for sure.
As the emotion slowed to a trickle, I noticed energy on my left side, up my leg and into my torso. I then felt energy collect in the ball of my left foot and shoot out from there. I have felt this before, and the image that comes to mind is the end of the animated film, The Beauty and the Beast. During his change from “The Beast” back to a “Man,” a ray of “light” bursts out of his feet and hands. That is what it feels like — a sudden gathering of energy that shoots out in a ray of light energy explosion… (except my feet aren’t hairy like the Beast’s. Just sayin’.)
Another unexpected sensation occurred while I was laying there feeling my feelings — the emotional ones as well as the physical sensations. My eyes were closed, but my attention was drawn to my hands. If my hands aren’t over my head, they are usually resting on my torso at my bottom rib/waistline area. I lay like this so my upper arms can support the weight of my breasts. I thought my hands were in the air, but I didn’t remember telling them to move. I opened my eyes and looked down. My arms were still by my sides, my hands still on my waist. But it felt like my hands were in mid-air, but heavy, like they were trying to pull away from me, or pull me up. I have felt similar “pulling” sensations when I experienced heartgasms — it felt like my inner me was trying desperately to separate from my body when I was wide awake — this happened for almost two weeks!
The rest of the day, I felt the odd tingle here and there, nothing major nor localized for too long in any one spot. (Wow, just got a zap of energy through my right outer labia just remembering that. Cool.) I didn’t have any single tingle strong enough or long enough for it to register as a particular -gasm, i.e., scalpgasm, leg-gasm, deskgasm, etc. I could feel the beginnings of the beginnings of awakening, the stirrings before the actual stirrings begin. So I know the bamboo has been growing under the surface and will burst through soon. Time is the only water it needs…. Dammit.
Aroused and tingling,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
OpEd: Fucking Cherokee Men (and Other People of Color)
As a kid in Mississippi, the Native culture was all around. State law requires 5th graders to take a year of Mississippi history, and high school students have to take at least one semester of Mississippi history to get their high school diploma. I’ve been very fortunate to have several mentors who literally changed my life, and the irony that most of them were American Indian has not been lost on me.
When I entered Catholic schools in 4th grade, I discovered just how cruel the elitist class could be. Because of my fair skin, I was called “albino.” Because my hair was a weird strawberry-blonde color and my eyes were blue-green, I was called “mutant.” Add in my freckles and the gap in my front teeth, I was a treasure trove of reasons for the rich kids to ridicule me.
This was also around the time the movie E.T. came out. So playing on the mutant/alien theme, I would hear, “Hey, E.T., here’s a quarter, why don’t you phone home? ‘Cause we don’t want you here!” … or … “Hey, E.T. Guess you’re here ’cause your alien family didn’t want you either.”
When I hit puberty, I was suddenly taller than everyone, and I grew breasts and hips, making me wider than everyone else, too. The kids took my first name, Patricia, and renamed me “Fatty Patty.” I was not overweight, but reality did not matter. When we studied World War II and learned about the Japanese suicide bombers, the Kamikaze, the bullies at school then took my last name, Causey, and used it in taunts: “Hey, Kami-Causey, you’re so ugly, why don’t you go fly a plane and kill yourself?!” … or… “Hey, Kami-Causey, you’re so fat, why don’t you go fly a plane — oh, wait, you’re so fat, the plane wouldn’t get off the ground.”
The “in” look of the late 1970′s and early 1980′s, as portrayed by models like Cheryl Tiegs and Christie Brinkley, was the Midwestern tall, thin, tan stereotype. I certainly didn’t fit the bill. Except for my grandmother, I was the shortest female in my family. I was 5-foot-6. In my Scotch-Irish family, the women were Amazons and the men were tree trunks. I was short — for my family.
Somewhere in these formative years, I developed a liking for men who were tall, dark, and handsome… or at least tall and dark. Maybe it was a matter of “opposites attract,” or maybe I just had too many years of being made to feel worthless because of the way I looked. Maybe it was the cultural and media conditioning of Disney movies where the “Prince” is usually tall and dark. Or perhaps it is just a cruel fact of nature that blonde men are stupid… and arrogant… On a side note, I hope a blonde man will prove me wrong one day. Also, I prefer brunette women, but sex with a redhead would just be redundant.
I support colorblind casting in theatre. Everyone should be given a chance regardless of what they look like. And I’ve always felt that reverse discrimination is still discrimination. Isn’t discriminating for just as bad as discriminating against? And yet, growing up in the elitist world of private schools and the fine arts, having “discriminating tastes” was a sign of being well-bred and “cultured.” Looking back, I can see now why some people were shocked that my best friends in (Catholic) high school were a Jewish girl, a black guy, and a short, overweight girl who ate Wendy’s burgers to curb her sexual fetishes… and then there were all my gay theatre friends…
When I was 17, an American Indian ballet dancer pointed me in the direction of my Irish heritage. It was amazing to finally be connected with people who looked like me! And learning about the pre-Christian traditions of the Gaelic people was life-changing for me. But meeting him — this gorgeous, tall, gorgeous, dark, exotic, gorgeous, NDN male ballet dancer who exuded virile masculinity even though he wore tights on his gorgeous muscular legs and his gorgeous buns of steel… Sorry… I digress… Meeting him opened my eyes to men other than the WASPs and redneck assholes I’d met so far.
Participating in an international theatre competition in South Korea at age 21, I fell in love with the Korean people, and my eyes were opened to the beauty of Asian men. (Yes, I now watch “Hawaii Five-0″ for Daniel Dae Kim. I could totally fuck his cheekbones!) And yet, I have a fondness in my heart (and in my loins) for the Black Irish and Black Scots like Pierce Brosnan and Sean Connery, respectively. Years ago, I developed a fascination with India and all things Hindu, so those dudes are most definitely on my vagina’s radar. A sure sign of progress, television now offers a beautiful rainbow of men to ogle, thanks to diversity casting (albeit for still somewhat stereotypical roles). And truth be told, being a white chick from Mississippi, I just assume no black guy would want to be with me, so no, I haven’t bothered in that department (doesn’t mean I wouldn’t if I got the chance, though! Call me.).
However, the idea of purposely choosing a partner for the way he or she looks — or for his or her ethnicity — didn’t enter my awareness until a conversation I had while working with a ballet seamstress of Cherokee and Choctaw blood.
Studying ancient cultures and other peoples of the world, I found that most of the world has black hair and brown eyes, while reddish hair and blue-green eyes really are the results of mutant genes…. Oh, well…. The good news was that lusting after dark men isn’t really discriminating for that “look.” Choosing a man with dark coloring is actually just the law of averages at play. So then choosing a mate really comes down to penis size.
(Just kidding. Still reading?)
Joanne, the Cherokee/Choctaw master seamstress, and I worked on the costumes for an upcoming production of The Nutcracker. I think she was bedazzling a Sugar Plum Fairy costume — except she was doing it old school, hand-sewing each cabochon rhinestone and sequin by hand. Meanwhile, I was put in charge of working on the Mouse King’s giant chicken-wire and shag carpet-covered head. As a woman in her 60′s, working with the carpet materials was too much for her hands.
She would often reminisce about previous ballet competitions and the former great dancers. She would also talk about being from the reservation here in Mississippi and being poor. At this time in her life, Joanne was looking forward to marrying her second husband, and I noticed she would often talk about her first husband from many years prior, the father of her children, who were now grown. Knowing that she needed to vent, I let her. I loved her dearly as a friend and mentor. She was a prolific articulator of the words “fuck” and “asshole.” I loved her even more for it.
Working in complete silence, Joanne suddenly started the conversation that inspired this post…
“He was a mean asshole.”
I thought she was talking about the Artistic Director. “Fernando?!”
“No, my first husband… He was a mean asshole.”
“Why?” I asked.
“He was a full-blood Cherokee and cantankerous as all get out…. Yep. He was an asshole.”
Silence. Several minutes passed.
“When he would drink was when it was the worst,” she continued. “He’d start some stupid shit just to start an argument. And he seemed to forget I’m Cherokee and Choctaw. And an Indian woman doesn’t put up with an Indian man’s bullshit. Fuck that!”
In complete naivete, I inquired, “Joanne, why on earth would you stay with someone like that?”
She looked off into the distance, “He was only like that when he drank too much. But when he was sober, he could fuck like nobody’s business!”
“Joanne!”
“It’s true. He didn’t realize I let him have his drunk rampages ’cause I knew the fuckin’ we’d be doing when he was sober and sorry about it.” She looked me square in the eye. “If you ever get the chance to fuck a Cherokee man, do it! You won’t regret it! Best fuckers out there!”
“Joanne!” I exclaimed, still incredulous. “Isn’t that racist?! “
“It would be, if I were talking about his skin… But I’m talking about his dick. And Cherokee men can fuck like nobody’s business.”
So ……………… um …………………….. Any Cherokee men out there???
Aroused and heading for the stomping grounds,
trish
Related articles:
- OpEd: Wounded Knee 1890 – U.S. Still Wages #WarOnWomen
- Anatomy: Female Ejaculation and Woman’s Ability to Conceive
- AskTrish: Stop Ejaculating and Have Multiple Orgasms Already
- OpEd: Want Me to Talk Dirty? Bite Me.
Links:
NEWS: ACLU Chapter in California Seems to Bully Anti-Circumcision Intactivists
According to the Intactivist site, Circumcision and HIV, the local ACLU chapter of Santa Cruz, CA, was in very bad form at a recent Pride parade, and apparently, this isn’t the first time Northern California ACLU chapters have displayed a double standard in protecting civil liberties — particularly protecting the religious freedom rights of parents over the basic civil liberties and human rights of infant boys.
Protecting the United States’ First Amendment is the cornerstone of my writing and music. I find it unconscionable to see the ACLU’s Northern California and Santa Cruz affiliates and others putting some people’s religious beliefs ABOVE infant boys’ pro-choice rights to their bodies.
If someone wanted to take a slice out of my body or my daughter’s, the ACLU would stand behind my right to my body and her right to hers. I doubt the ACLU would support the stoning of a woman because she had premarital sex — a stoning dictated by a misogynist religious mandate. And yet, the circumcision of newborn boys is a perfectly acceptable religious mandate?
Believe it or not, there are growing numbers of Jewish groups that oppose circumcision, so not all Jews approve of such orthodox misogyny and misguided body mutilation.
Why would any person or group support the physical and sexual abuse of defenseless infant boys by putting religion over the child’s right to his body? Is this a case in which the Orwellian adage rings true: “All animals are equal… but some animals are more equal than others”? Since this body mutilation occurs on the penis, which is necessary for reproduction later in his life, isn’t circumcision a violation of the boy’s reproductive rights as well?
Every American baby boy has inherent, inalienable, protected rights including his First Amendment right to Freedom of Religion. Since he is only days old when the scalpel-happy doctor and religious fanatic parents are wanting to permanently modify and potentially permanently harm his newborn body, the baby boy cannot say what HIS religion is yet — if he even wants to participate in his parents’ religion that mandates this mutilation.
The baby boy does not have a voice. Except for us activists — intactivists!
Contact these ACLU branches and use YOUR freedom of speech to speak out against the ACLU protecting adults over innocent babies: ACLU-Northern California: (415) 621-2493, and ACLU-Santa Cruz: info@aclusantacruz.org. Tweet them @ACLU and @ACLU_NorCal or find them on Facebook to let them know this is NOT acceptable for an organization supposedly devoted to protecting civil liberties for ALL.
I want to be proud of the ACLU again. So ACLU-Northern California and ACLU-Santa Cruz need to do the right thing and protect baby boys from religious extremism.
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
What Has ‘Aroused Woman’ Inspired YOU to Try?
C’mon, ladies and gents!
Time to spill the beans. I’d love to know if anything here on Aroused Woman has inspired YOU to take better care of your self (yes, that was spaced, your self).
I am still smiling over the comment left by one reader whose girlfriend noticed a change in their lovemaking after he read some of my posts here on AW.
Feel free to leave a comment on this post — either a brief mention or detailed comment on how AW has helped you get in touch with yourself or your female partner… or if your approach to women and women’s sexuality has been changed in any way. Remember, comments can be left anonymously.
This can be a solo experience, and/or with your partner, or even a “Calgon, take me away!” moment… a change in your energy, an awakening somehow… or maybe you got some ideas from my excerpt I just released on Amazon Kindle (wink!).
Can’t wait to hear from all of you! xoxo
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily OJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
Sex with Uncircumcised Men
With the issue of anti-circumcision rearing its “head,” I thought I’d petition comments from readers who would like to discuss the topic of uncut sex — sex with men who are not circumcised.
What does it feel like? Is slow sex better? Is deep penetration or shallow better? What are the pros and cons, the experiences from the man’s perspective? From his partner’s?
Mainly, I want to create an opportunity for mothers- and fathers-to-be to get a glimpse of why they should allow their sons to be left intact. Circumcision is permanent body modification, and this choice belongs to the male whose body would be affected. His parents are the stewards for his basic human right to be left whole.
There are rules for participating in the discussion!
Commenters can be:
- Men who are UNcircumcised — I would especially love to hear from you guys!
- Women/men who have been with men who are UNcircumcised — Please share your stories!
- Circumcised men or their partners who have questions or comments regarding circumcision.
- Readers who are supportive of the anti-circumcision movement and even potential legislation to ban circumcision.
Comments should be:
- Respectful, NOT snarky toward men with circumcised penises — after all their right to choose what was done to their body was violated. It’s not THEIR fault they are cut.
- From readers who have specific questions or info about the UNcircumcised penis, including hygiene, personal feelings/experiences, bullying, sexual info during arousal, penetration, orgasm, and after sex; oral, hand play, and anal sex; any info regarding the foreskin, lubrication, erections, ejaculation, sensations, etc.
Keep the conversation clean and respectful. And yes, every comment has to be approved by me first, so don’t waste my time being pro-circ, rude, snarky, or a jerk (or jerkette).
Check back often to read what others write, or sign up for the RSS Comments feed (on the right-hand side –>).
Now, chat away!
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
OpEd: ‘Male Circumcision Is No Biggie’
Having been an activist for one “bleeding heart” liberal Human Rights issue or another since I was 13, I’ve learned that people who don’t jive with Human Rights fall into one of two categories:
1 – those who are completely unaware of an issue so their apathy is due to ignorance…
and…
2 – those who are aware of the issues but have been drinking the Kool-aid too long to see the rights violations right in front of them…
Or in this case, in their pants.
Last night on Facebook, I updated my status with this:
“My thoughts on FGM & Male Circumcision: Any body modification not fully consented to by the person on whom it is being done is straight up EVIL & being perpetrated by ASSHOLES.”
After yet another exhibition of my Irish gift of being blunt, an interesting discussion followed by friends who, of course, feel similarly. I went on to say:
“Any change to the body is the basic human right of THAT PERSON to make a change to the body. Especially when this isn’t a life-threatening situation. Circumcision in 1st world countries is done out of habit more than educated knowledge that it is a religious act — and since many white Americans proudly claim to be Christian, why the hell do they do this to their babies? (Though I think brainwashing a child in any one religion is also heinous, but that’s another convo.)… Many people do not realize that baby boys die from male circumcision, just as some girls die from FGM. Female Genital Mutilation is the definition of barbaric & misogynist.
“P.S. I refused to cut my daughter’s hair until SHE was ready to have her hair cut. Most people see the hair as dead, but it isn’t — not from a spiritual perspective (and no, I’m not Indian)… I gave [her] her first haircut on her 5th birthday, and her ears were pierced 5 years later. Her body. Her choices.”
One enlightened friend wrote about male circumcision:
“It’s traumatic to babies, it’s dangerous, and so unnecessary. The argument “so he’ll look like his father” makes me want to fight! If Dad was missing a finger, would we chop one of baby’s fingers off too? And then there’s the rampant sexual dysfunction caused by corneated glanses that guys have to beat the crap out of in order to get off.”
Then there was one comment that left me with my jaw hanging open as disgust and dismay ran through my bloodstream.
One commenter wrote:
“FGM is a sin (if you are a believer in such) and a crime against nature, but male circumcision is no biggie. It actually has proponents in the medical field who make good arguments for it.”
While I love it when people agree with me, the only time I can truly create change is when I’ve reached someone whose ideology is different (read: narrow-minded and uneducated). So my response is thus:
- No, I don’t believe in sin. “Sin” is a carefully crafted construct of religious propaganda to steer the masses into doing its bidding, which usually entails keeping the rich, white guys wealthy and in control. (Where have I heard that before?)
- Circumcision IS a “biggie” to the innocent baby on whom this violation is being perpetrated.
- The so-called medical proponents must be operating under the delusion of religious brainwashing, socio-cultural conditioning, or being highly compensated to keep spouting these “medically necessary” lies regarding male circumcision.
Circumcision as we know it is a practice of the Abrahamic religions, namely Judaism and its spin-offs Christianity and Islam. As with many aspects of the Jewish faith, Judaism was heavily influenced by the religious practices and ideologies of Ancient Egypt, which is known to have practiced circumcision on adult men who chose to be circumcised as part of their initiation into the priests’ order.
Because of the spread of these religions outside their indigenous Middle Eastern origins, the brutal practice of shearing the foreskin off a newborn’s penis has gone global. However, not every country under these religious delusions practices male circumcision.
The proponents for male circumcision offer little medical evidence that it is actually “necessary.” Also, I would rather trust the body’s inherent intelligence that it has a foreskin because it serves a purpose — to the boy who will become a man. Granted, I don’t know why we still have an appendix, but I do know why my clitoris has a hood — the same reason the male version of the clit, the glans penis, also has a hood.
Proponents for male circumcision also offer the ridiculous argument that boys want to “look like their father.” Was the father circumcised later in his life when he was old enough to make an educated, informed decision based on his personal preference to have the foreskin removed? Likely not. The father was probably circumcised as an infant as well, without his consent.
Those who say circumcision prevents AIDS and HIV transmission are also not getting the whole picture. Plenty of circumcised men in America have HIV or AIDS. The lack of foreskin didn’t prevent the spread of the sexually transmitted disease. Here’s an article from the University of Oxford regarding medical studies supposedly supporting male circumcision.
Essentially, the issue of male circumcision is one of basic Human Rights, that a person has the basic right to choose what happens to her or his body. No one should be allowed to make such a permanent change to a person’s body without their consent.
Informed consent is crucial because of the medical and sexual ramifications, including permanent physical damage to the penis, the urethra, as well as the psychological repercussions as the child grows up.
What if the government passed a law that all baby boys must have their pinky amputated? Or their left ear? Or their nose? Would you willingly submit your newborn child to this just because the government said to? I doubt it. But parents willingly subject their baby boy to having a part of his anatomy amputated just because of a tradition from a Middle Eastern religion and/or American cultural conditioning?
I absolutely think there should be legislation prohibiting circumcision since there are fanatics who will keep enacting this barbarity on baby boys UNLESS legislation bans circumcision. If someone cut a slice out of my daughter, that act is punishable by law with prison time because it is aggravated assault and endangering the welfare of a minor. But circumcision is okay?! NO!
Others would say that banning circumcision violates the parents’ First Amendment freedom of religion. Then what about the baby’s fundamental First Amendment right to Freedom FROM his parents’ religion — to remain a whole human being?
But I’m a female. What would I know about wanting to preserve a person’s right to choose what happens to their body?
Here are some facts from the wonderful website, IntactAmerica:
- Risks include infection, hemorrhage, scarring, difficulty urinating, loss of part or all of the penis, and even death.
- The amount of skin removed in a typical infant circumcision is the equivalent of 15 square inches in an adult male.
- No professional medical association in the U.S. or anywhere else in the world recommends routine circumcision as medically necessary.
- Most medically advanced nations do not practice child circumcision. Three quarters of the world’s men are intact.
- The foreskin is actually an important and functional body part, protecting the head of the penis from injury and providing moisture and lubrication. Circumcision also diminishes sexual pleasure later in life.
- Claims that circumcision prevents HIV have repeatedly been proven to be exaggerated or false.
- Whatever the rationale, forced removal of healthy genital tissue from any child – male or female – is unethical. Boys have the same right as girls to an intact body, and to be spared this inhumane, unnecessary surgery. (Okay, I threw this one in because of its comparison to Female Genital Mutilation.)
Source: IntactAmerica.org, “The Facts Behind Circumcision”
I can only surmise that the men who are pro-circumcision are circumcised themselves (and the women who are pro-circ have only been with circumcised partners), and the thought of a “different”-looking penis is too weird for them to accept what is natural. Or the circumcised men feel jealous that they might be missing out on sexual pleasure, so they want all men to miss out on sexual pleasure, perpetuating this basic Human Rights violation on these innocent children.
No one can undo the past, so if you’re a man who is circumcised, please don’t feel jealous. Sexual pleasure is an energy, and incredible sexual pleasure can be learned without the need for genital stimulation at all.
Just as women need to speak out for women’s rights, men need to speak out against male circumcision. The voice being heard has to come from the gender being violated. But know, we women are here to support you in ending this heinous practice of non-consensual circumcision just as we know you guys are here to support us in our fight to keep control over our bodies.
Male circumcision IS a “biggie.” Circumcision is a Human Rights violation that scars the male in more ways than just physically. If need be, let’s get Congress to enact legislation to prohibit male circumcision. It is the individual male’s right to choose what happens to his body.
trish
NEWS: Woman Fired From Job for Having Large Breasts
In a case of “how stupid can some religious fanatics be” (yes, that is a rhetorical question), a New Jersey woman has filed charges with the Equal Opportunity Employment Commission saying she was fired from a lingerie business because she was too “busty”.
I recently wrote two articles on just this sort of misogyny and cultural brainwashing: “Me, My Breasts, and I” and “American’s Love/Hate Relationship with Breasts, Part 1″. So if anyone thought I was making stuff up about how women are systematically abused and mistreated due to their cup size, here’s a “life imitating art imitating life” Kodak moment.
New Jersey resident Lauren Odes claims she was fired a few days after starting a desk job at Native Intimates, a 5th Avenue Manhattan lingerie distributor, because of her full-figure. At a press conference, Odes presented her three outfits with which her Orthodox Jewish employers took umbrage.Two of the outfits were on hangers, while she was wearing the third one (see image above).
At the press conference, Odes said this:
“When I first started working there, I asked what the dress code was, and I was just told to look around and see what everyone else was wearing. So I did. The dress was very casual athletic wear to business attire. When my supervisors suggested that I tape down my breasts, I asked ‘Are you kidding me?’ The supervisor said, ‘Just cover up a little more.’”
Odes was then made to wear a red robe that the manager personally put on her person. Odes took a picture of herself in the robe (see poster in picture above).
“She told me to sit at my desk and wear it all day. I felt completely humiliated. She put the bathrobe on me and tied the belt, and I returned to my desk wearing it.”
Odes was then told to go out and buy a sweater, but while shopping for something to suit her misogynist employer, Odes received a phone call informing her she was fired.
Not being stupid, Odes recorded the phone call, then got the best of the best on the case, renown feminist lawyer Gloria Allred, who stood beside Odes at the press conference Monday. Odes had this to say:
“I do not feel any employer has the right to impose their religious beliefs on me when I’m working in a business that is not a synagogue, but instead selling thongs with hearts placed in the female genital area and boy shorts for women saying ‘HOT’ in the buttocks’ area.”
Any thoughts on this sort of patriarchal religious and cultural harassment in the #WarOnWomen here in the 21st century? Or do you think the leftist media is making too much out of it? Any comments, peeps?
trish
OpEd: America’s Love/Hate Relationship with Breasts
To say American men are enamored of breasts is an understatement.
The “red-blooded-ness” of the American male’s manhood is quantified by the degree to which he holds breasts in esteem and wants to hold them in his hands… and his mouth… and slide his erection between them. As one former beau put it, “There’s a whole world of breasts out there, and I can’t die till I’ve seen every pair of them.”
Over the last 40 years, breasts have not only become a national obsession, they’ve become big business spurring the porn and plastic surgery industries to gigantic proportions — a different kind of #WarOnWomen. One might think that porn invented breasts — or even the proliferation of showing breasts, but ancient art and fertility sites clearly indicate the female form has been revered for millennia.
The breast is a gland. Anatomically, female breasts are almost identical to the male breast, though we are unaccustomed to referring to the male’s pectoral/nipple area as a “breast.” The underlying structure of the breast is the pectoral muscle, over which the mammary glands and ducts and fat tissue protrude from the body in post-pubescent females and some men. Men can get breast cancer, and some men even lactate and have breastfed their babies. Men who have excess breast tissue may have a hormonal condition known as gynecomastia, treatment of which is usually surgical male breast reduction.
Our perception of breasts — what they should look like, how they should move, what they should feel like, has changed drastically with the mainstreaming of porn and the life-altering rise of the internet. With sex readily available on any device capable of an internet or wi-fi connection, fake breasts and staged sex are literally at your fingertips 24/7. But what has all this accessibility done to the breast? To women’s bodies? To our body image and self-esteem? Do men even know what real breasts look like anymore?
Real breasts come in many shapes, sizes, and colors. Though the exact look and feel of the breasts varies with the woman, for the most part women’s breasts are oval shaped (not spherical), with the majority of the breast tissue being at or below the nipple/areola complex, and the nipples angled slightly outward, away from each other. In larger breasts, the areola may be oval-shaped as well. Because real breasts function at the demand of the law of gravity, they move — sometimes down, sometimes to the sides toward the armpits, or away from each other all together. Real breasts move.
(Photos from Dian Hanson’s book Big Book of Breasts)
Thanks to porn and plastic surgery, the placement and the size of implants has created a distorted view of women’s breasts. At times, it seems as if even the doctors don’t know what breasts are supposed to look like!
With results that can appear as if basketballs were surgically implanted, fake breasts can look completely unnatural: spherical instead of oval, the areolas too small in proportion to the size of the breast, the nipples pointing straight out — or worse, upwards.
Implants are inserted at the areola line, inframammary line, or under the armpit, cutting through the nerve-rich tissue and leaving some implantees with little to no sensation in the nipples. Permanently. Considering the nipples are wired directly to the clitoris, why would a woman sacrifice a lifetime of orgasms for money she might earn in porn or stripping — or worse, because she feels inadequate with her body because of the pressure to have huge, high, perfect breasts?
With fake breasts, the implant is placed under the pectoral muscle. Essentially, the implant is held up by the chest wall muscles, rendering the breast an almost motionless appendage. (How are real breasts supposed to compete with this?!)
I’d like to say I don’t have a problem with implants, but yes, I really do have a problem with implants when the woman is getting them because she feels inferior due to media and socio-cultural conditioning. But I recognize this is my problem, and a woman’s body is hers to do with as she chooses. I certainly have no problem with implants for women who are reconstructing their breast(s) post-breast cancer or are evening out a condition in which one breast is underdeveloped. But these are not the majority of women seeking breast augmentation.
Having worked for a plastic surgeon, I heard many women say that they wanted the implants to give them the look of a push-up bra without having to wear a bra. Many implantees get their breasts done with a “pushed up” curvature in the center. Presto! Permanent cleavage.
The proliferation of the push-up bra phenomenon is a direct result of the breast-obsessed culture. While you can argue that the pushed up nature of brassieres harkens back to the days of corsets, the reality is that for most of the corset’s history, the job of the corset (or “pair of bodies” as it was originally called) was to shape the torso into the desired look of the time, not push the breasts up and in.
The pushing up and in of the breasts is actually the complete opposite of what is natural for the breasts and for innate biological signs of sexual maturity. The dropping of the breast tissue is the last phase of puberty for the breasts, and this may not fully happen until the woman is 21 years old. When plastic surgeons are taking measurements for a patient’s breast reduction, they gauge the new nipple line at the inframammary fold, where the underside of the breast meets the torso. So if cosmetic surgeons can get this right with breast reduction, why do they purposely get it so very wrong for breast augmentation?
The hypersexualization of women’s breasts has surpassed the porn and skin mags industry, with the cups of commerce spilling over into stripping, lingerie, comic books, video games, mainstream film, mass market paperback books, and even kids’ cartoons and national beauty pageants.
This doesn’t begin to cover the topic of how breasts naturally change throughout a women’s life. Breasts change constantly through a woman’s monthly cycle. You could say that once puberty starts, the breasts never stop changing!
Add in to this ever-evolving metamorphosis the life cycles of pregnancy, breastfeeding, post-partum hormone craziness, weight gain, weight loss, menopause, and just getting older. The life of real breasts is tough physically, emotionally, and psychologically.
Could there be a shortage of real breasts in the next few decades? While scientists are looking for a cure for the common cold and AIDS, are they already working on a DNA breast augmentation injection so that future generations of girls won’t have to suffer the indignity of not measuring up to society’s demands for unnaturally shaped breasts?
I certainly hope not!
So then why do men buy porn? And skin mags? And go see strippers? I know men are viscerally oriented and generally lack imagination when it comes to getting off, but this is ridiculous.
And why the hell do men think women want lingerie as a gift?! All of these industries are run by men for men with women not being considered in the equation at all — except to feel like something is wrong if they’re a size A cup instead of FFF or their breasts hang naturally instead of defying the laws of gravity.
Why are men so desirous of seeing breasts bigger and bigger and in completely unnatural formations and perfectly, unnaturally symmetrical? How would men feel if they were expected to have their sensitive parts pushed up and in when these parts are supposed to be down, free, and maybe slightly uneven?
Whether temporary pushing up of the breasts via a bra or permanent cleavage due to manipulated implants, society not only accepts but expects this violation against women’s biology. In fact, when women’s breasts do not meet the porn/skin mag fake implant standard, the real, living, breathing, feeling, natural, un-airbrushed women are made to feel as if something is wrong with them — that their bodies are somehow misshapen or ugly if their breasts do not match society’s porn-induced standard.
Breasts come in many different sizes, shapes, and colors. Before passing judgment on a woman’s body that will make her feel less than human, think of other females you know — your sister or your daughter, even your mother. Would you want someone else to make them feel less than worthy as a human being just because of the way their body is naturally?
Then don’t pass the socio-cultural brainwashing on by passing judgment on your girlfriend or wife. And stop supporting the very industries that propagate the brainwashing. Stop buying porn and skin mags and comic books. Start buying erotica directed by women and starring natural women. Buy books about women written by women, or subscribe to sites that feature natural women being naturally sexy.
Better yet, get off the computer and go hug your woman.
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
Me, My Breasts, and I
Copyright 2012 by Trish Causey.
I always hated my breasts.
For most of my life that was all I was good for. Having breasts. And thick hair. Breasts and hair. That was me in a nutshell. Nevermind that I was intelligent, talented in the performing and literary arts, a Girl Scout, an honor student, an activist, a nice person. None of that mattered. I had thick, red hair and large, lust-inducing breasts.
I woke up one morning at the age of 10, and POOF! There they were. Size C practically overnight. I went from being the wallflower nerd in 5th grade to getting weird looks from the boys who glanced at me from lowered eyelids but no longer talked to me.
At age 11, my ballet teacher measured me for my recital costume and announced (in front of my class much to my horror) that my measurements were 37-26-37. She then had the nerve to tell me if I gained an inch in my waist, I’d have perfect measurements. I’d just started my period and was about to get braces. Having perfect measurements was nowhere on my radar. And neither were boyfriends.
I was 13, working backstage at an international ballet competition, when a German photographer wanted to take “pictures” of me. At age 15, I had my first experience with being mauled by a guy — a fellow castmember of a show, who was my ride home after a rehearsal. With no other way to get home, I felt like I had to let him do what he wanted so he wouldn’t leave me there at the deserted library at 10 o’clock at night. (This was well before cell phones were commonplace). Luckily my leotard didn’t have snaps at the crotch.
I graduated high school a D-cup and quickly moved into a DD.
While volunteering with a ballet company at age 18, the ballet master of a troupe visiting from Russia, cornered me in the Green Room after everyone had left. Before I knew what was happening, he’d maneuvered both of my arms behind me and held my wrists in one of his hands while the other went to my blouse, untucking it from my skirt. He grabbed my breasts and squeezed roughly. His knee was between my legs which were trapped in a pencil skirt. The more I fought, the stronger he became. My only recourse when he kissed me was to bite his tongue as hard as I could. He backed off immediately, blood pouring from his mouth. I tucked in my shirt and told him he was never to do that again. Even in this situation, my Southern upbringing would not allow me to be rude.
At 20, I traveled with a theatre company to South Korea for an international theatre competition. I was friendly with the troupe from Tblisi, in the Republic of Georgia. Just friends. Nothing happened. It was brought to my attention on the plane ride home that almost everyone in the competition — people from 16 countries — thought I’d fucked the entire acting company from Tblisi… and some of the Germans and a French guy.
Swell.
At 21, working the ballet competition again, I was more fully aware of my seeming powers over men, and I was ready to be slightly more proactive. An Adonis of a male dancer from Cuba lusted after me, but his partner didn’t make it to Round 2, so I couldn’t take that opportunity to the next step. A ballet master from Spain wanted me. One night while making out with him, he, of course, went for my breasts first. The intensity of the situation was too much, and while he wiped off his fogged up glasses, I made an excuse about needing to do something and left.
I didn’t understand what the big fuss was about. When I was 9, my molestor used to admire the beginnings of my breasts, and she was greatly thrilled when they came in at age 10. This coupled with all the other events made me leery of sex. I was still a virgin at 21 until I was raped. The guy repeatedly ran his fingernails up and down my breasts, commenting that he’d dreamt of the day he’d get his hands on them. I knew him and we were in my bedroom, and at the time, the concept of date-rape was still new and not considered “real” rape. I bled for four days, but I still felt his nails on my skin.
I was so embarrassed that I was still a virgin at 21, I did not report the rape for fear the policemen would laugh at me. Or worse. It was too much to fathom sitting in a courtroom having to explain why I had never had sex, when everyone around me thought I was a slut.
For years, everyone thought I was a “loose girl” because I had large breasts. Everyone just assumed I was a “certain way” because my Irish anatomy was genetically predisposed to being full-figured. Finally, I’d been penetrated. At least now, I wouldn’t have to pretend a reaction when people smirked in my direction. The look of shame was real.
My breasts were never pin-up fabulous — not high or perky or uber firm — but they were large. At theatre orgies, when I was 22 to 24, my breasts were all the rage. And I was proud of them — but only because I knew they gave me power over men. One guy wanted time with them, so I laid back on the bed, purring, until he said — out loud where everyone heard, “They went to the sides.” I responded, “Yes, that’s what they do.” He replied, “Nevermind. They’re just sacks of skin.” I was humiliated. He was used to breasts that didn’t move, defied gravity, and were perfect(ly fake). As large as mine were, my breasts didn’t measure up.
Aged 25 and working as a leasing consultant at an apartment property, I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of being big-busted — never wear form-fitting sweaters. Sure enough, as I sat there, one of the paint contractors walks in — I’d never seen him before. He took one look at me, and exclaimed, “Damn, but don’t you put Dolly Parton to shame!”
Lovely. From a complete stranger, no less.
I hated my breasts, and I wanted them gone. I thoroughly researched breast reduction. I watched every nerd channel show on plastic surgery, scrutinizing the process and the results. I even worked for a plastic surgeon and felt I could practically do a breast redux consult and procedure myself by that point.
Frequently, I would have to ask my husband to massage my back to help release the knots. These massages were never spa- or romance-novel-worthy. They were painful. Horribly, hot, sharp, stabbing, searing pain, painful.
From the nape of my neck to my bottom ribs, from one shoulder across to the other, my back was one, huge knotted mass of contracted muscle and pinched nerves, for years. Constant back pain affected how I walked and how I slept — when I could sleep. Permanent red grooves still scar my shoulders from their weight.
External and environmental projections of cultural myths and stereotypes compelled self-loathing within me I never would have imagined possible. Having large breasts made my body acceptable for repeated sexual abuse, and society assumed I “wanted” it or “deserved” it just because of the way my body developed.
In 2004, I thought my marriage might work out after all. Things had looked up for a while, and I had surprised myself thinking that I might actually grow to love him again. I was in the kitchen, and remarked, quite off the cuff, that I’d decided to go ahead and have the breast reduction surgery. He shook his head, getting angry, and actually pouted.
After inquiring what was wrong, he said, “If you go through with it, I’ll never be able to make love to you again. I would take one look at those hideous purple scars and be too disgusted to be aroused.” That cut me to my soul. And it solidified for me that he’d never truly loved me. No man ever had or would. I was nothing but breasts and hair to men.
I’ve had a child, whom I breastfed. I purposely gained weight so my husband wouldn’t want me, which wrecked my thyroid. Hurricane Katrina in 2005 and the subsequent PTSD didn’t help. In 2010, I escaped my hellhole marriage and began a path of reclaiming my dreams and my identity.
Last fall, a friend suggested I try sensual massage as part of my orgasm awakening regimen. I thought it was hokey, but I tried it anyway. At the same time, I read Tantric Orgasm for Women
The sensual self-massage put me in touch with my body in a gentle, caressing way that I’d not thought possible. I realized then that I’d never been touched gently. Ever. By anyone. Tingles rippled up and down my body. Energy zinged up my spine, across my scalp, and tickled my face.
The breast meditation involved gently holding my breasts from the outside while mentally entering my breasts from the inside. From my center. From my heart. This was the first time I experienced my breasts in relationship to my body and how they come from me. Since I was 9, the attention my breasts received has been from the external world passing judgment, men (and females) groping, clawing, and lusting after them, while society applied the scarlet letter of shame.
My breasts had been the victim, not my enemy. For the first time, I experienced my breasts as a part of me, and I cried uncontrollably. Holding my breasts, I wanted to apologize for ever hating them and sending the negativity to them.
I’m now a single mom, 43 pounds lighter, and infinitely happier. I’m a few months away from turning 40.
While laying in bed one night, I noticed a woman on my laptop’s screen. I thought, “Wow, those breasts look good.” I then realized the screen was dark due to the screen saver, and the breasts I saw were mine. I looked good laying down — with my breasts to the sides as real breasts are wont to do.
It was at that moment that I knew without a doubt that I will never have breast reduction. After years of wanting them gone, I cannot imagine having them cut now. Knowing that the surgeon will cut every nerve around the nipple-areola complex which is wired directly to the clitoris and remove a huge triangle of nerve-rich skin from the underside of the breast, simply hurts my heart — not to mention what it might do to my orgasms. After making peace with my breasts and experiencing such wonderful sensations and orgasms directly because of them, I can’t fathom not having them exactly as they are.
My breasts will never grace a magazine’s centerfold, and they’d never withstand the scrutiny of men accustomed to ogling implants and the perfect breasts of 20-somethings in skin mags or porn. I’ll never look good bra-less, and swimsuits will always be my arch-nemesis. I can live with that. And however society chooses to judge my old, not-perfect breasts is society’s waste of time and energy. I have other things to do than worry about what other people think — which I can’t control anyway.
My breasts will never be perfect. But they will always be mine. And I love my breasts.
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
DailyOJ 12-08-11: Breasts & Yoni Massage
December 8, 2011
(*In response to a gentleman’s comment about nipple stimulation.*)
I’d LOVE to hear what nipple stimulation “techniques” are most preferable to men — gentle squeezing of the nipple, stroking of the nipple-areola complex? Something stronger? Pectoral massage? Hmmm?
Unfortunately, I think most young guys get their notion of how to treat breasts from watching porn. Personally, the way men (and women) treat breasts in porn is down right horrible, in my opinion. Clearly porn is for the male voyeur who doesn’t realize that such man-handling HURTS! If you watch the women on IFeelMyself.com, you can see how real women treat their breasts. It’s very loving – even when we’re highly aroused, we are NOT rough, groping, pawing, lifting / dropping the breast(s). OUCH!
It’s weird to talk about breasts because usually (for me) it is in a negative way due to many negative experiences with men (who like to grope things that aren’t theirs). But I am now in a much better place emotionally and mentally with my breasts because of doing sensual massage (and yoni massage down lower has been amazingly rewarding), and generally realizing my breasts aren’t the enemy (and neither are men ).
When you hate one part of your body, it’s difficult to love yourself as a whole — you feel separated from an intrinsic part you. Breastfeeding my daughter actually pushed me further from my breasts emotionally because it was not a good experience for me (though, I would do breastfeeding again because it is the best source of nutrition for a child).
But if other women can re-examine their relationship with their breasts, or their clitoris, their vulva, vagina, female prostate(!!!), et al, then the we can heal individually, and that will help women heal as a community. Just imagine the energy shift and power surges if every woman in the world actually LOVED herself?!
Aroused and massaging,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
OpEd: FUCKING CHEROKEE MEN (AND OTHER PEOPLE OF COLOR)
OpEd: THE FACE OF ORGASM: IS YOUR WOMAN FAKING ORGASMS OR NOT?
DailyOJ: ALLOWING AND RECEIVING
MyTweets & Comments 08-16-12: Hippy, Free Love & Stretch Marks
I commiserated that I haven’t lost enough weight to be naked in front of others in public and was promptly reminded that we women cannot self-sabotage ourselves by heeding the KoolAid of media and culture’s negativity.
So onward I go, through this catharsis that has me by my she-balls.
trish
(Click image to enlarge.)
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August 17, 2012 | Categories: #WarOnWomen, #WhereAreTheWomen, 2012 elections, activism, body image, breast feeding, comments, communication, matriarchal, mind noise, MyTweets, politics, pregnancy, reclaiming sexuality, stress, women's circles, women's rights, women's sexuality | Leave A Comment »