Monday, April 30, 2012

An Orgasm in Every Pill ... Maybe

I just finished watching the documentary Orgasm, Inc.

So, now we not only have to deal with the media telling us we are only acceptable as women if we look like an airbrushed cover model, but the pharmaceutical industry is now conspiring with doctors to create the phenomena of Female Sexual Dysfunction (FSD)?  Misinformation is spreading like wildfire, thanks in part to my favorite bastion of false idols--Oprah, and companies are desperately trying to convince women that they can give them orgasms if they just take this pill. Or that cream. Or this patch.

Don't worry, it's all perfectly safe. And even if it isn't totally, it's worth the risk because you are diseased with FSD. Don't believe me? Here, ask this doctor that we in no way compensated to endorse us.

Bullshit! Do you know what the drug trials proved time and time over?


No, I'm not kidding. There was no difference in the number of placebo orgasms than the ones with the pill, cream, patch or even electrodes attached to the spine. The one consistent factor throughout the trials is that the women responded to erotic videos.

As girls, we are overwhelming taught that porn is for men, is disgusting and only sluts and whores engage in watching it. We also are overlooked when it comes to sexual education other than don't get knocked up. Men are encouraged and indulged with their sex drives to masturbate and go out and get as much tail as possible. Most girls, especially ones with religious backgrounds, don't even know how to give themselves an orgasm. I was 21 before I had my first one.

The majority of women cannot achieve orgasms through intercourse. And out of the few who can, only 25% are able to achieve one consistently through intercourse. (Psychology Today, The interesting thing to note, then, is that this is not something our bodies are necessarily designed to do. Not orgasming via intercourse is NORMAL. So no pill, patch or cream is going to create enough of a physiological change to make us start coming the second a man puts his penis in our vaginas. Or even if he lasts all night; which would chafe anyway so men should really stop acting like we give a shit about that.

What we really need are men or women who help us establish a relationship built on trust, mutual respect and understanding of how to meet our needs in, and especially out of, the bedroom. Having a partner who helps with the household chores or gives us the freedom to be ourselves is far more of a turn on than a large penis. Someone who will explore our bodies with us, who we can learn together what brings us to climax, is far more likely to bring us to orgasm than taking a pill to impact our hormones. And a man/woman who knows how to use his/her tongue?


I have previously espoused the importance of being a whore with your mate, as well as the over-diagnosing of ED and prescribing of Viagra. This is just one more attack by an industry desperate to get our money and the capitulating by a culture increasingly dependent on a quick fix. If you are a woman and unable to orgasm, don't go to your doctor and ask for a pill. Be smarter than that. Educate yourself on your body and reach an orgasm with your hand or a toy. Then invite your partner, if you currently have one, to be part of your education. My fiance greatly enjoys using toys on me (although I do use that as a punishment at times for when he's not allowed to taste me or touch himself), and one of his greatest joys is bringing me to climax with his tongue.

So as the drug companies rush to get something on the shelves that promise to give us an orgasm, maybe, one more than we're already having at very best but all while watching erotic videos, I say spend your money elsewhere. Find a good porn. Buy an erotic book. Get a good toy, or several--variety is an amazing thing! If you have difficulty with intimacy, then go to therapy and work through what's causing you to avoid being vulnerable. There are so many organic ways to resolve your orgasmic problems, but you first have to start by being open.

And for goddess' sake, put the pills down.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

A Beauty Queen State of Mind

Tonight, while texting with @this503girl, she sent me a picture of a SkinnyGirl cosmetics display in Wal-Mart. It set me off.

Where the fuck does some stuck-up, worthless piece of shit reality TV "star" get off adding to the mountain of already overwhelming societal messages that tell women they aren't pretty unless they are skinny?

Everywhere we turn, there is some spokesperson, model, actor/actress, doctor or goddamn Oprah espousing via one medium or another that we must find our value in a number on the scale. And instead of standing up together and saying, "Fuck you and the bag of bones you rode in on," we turn on one another and whisper about who's packed on a few holiday pounds, the freshman fifteen, never lost the baby weight and OH MY GOD YOU DON'T NEED TO BE EATING FRENCH FRIES YOU FUCKING COW!

I've had enough. I'm tired of living in a culture where every time I go to the doctor I feel like I have to hurriedly explain that I do eat right, if not better than most, and that I'm working hard to take care of myself and have lost weight lately so please don't judge me and why I'm here by the number you see on the scale. Or when I go shopping for clothes feel like I've achieved a personal victory because I'm now an XL instead of a 1X. Or catch my reflection and compare it to the vision I have of myself in my head (which at one point seemed to be permanently stuck on the 16-year-old version of me) and think, "Oh, right. I forgot," and walk away defeated.

Because the sad thing is, when I was the 16-year-old version of me and nearly 80 lbs lighter than I am now, I did not enjoy my reflection then. In fact, I was surrounded by voices telling me I was unacceptable. My parents being the loudest and echoed by the popular girls in school and by what I saw on magazine covers, TV shows, movies, church, successful business women ... it never stopped. If you wanted to be considered pretty, you MUST be skinny. No ifs, ands or buts.

Yet, there was a part of me that believed what the mirror showed me. And the mirror said I was a knockout, easily equal to any beauty queen out there, just with more muscle and stronger curves. And when I closed my door, turned up my music (long live Skid Row, Bon Jovi and Slaughter), I was free to preen, pose and walk the imaginary catwalk my mirrored closet doors created. No matter what my parents said about buying me the stereo I wanted if I'd just lose 20 lbs, or the girls at school who made up nicknames so they could talk about me in front of me, or the Oprah's of the world who celebrated the last diet they were about to fail spectacularly at, I couldn't make what they said about me equal what I saw during those precious moments. I was beautiful. But those were fleeting seconds and my eyes were constantly drawn away by images I could never attain.

And when 20 years passed and I had long since become the fat person they accused me of being, I lamented that I wasted the time when I did have a perfect body worrying about the flaws others tried to give me. Flaws that I internalized and allowed to infect my own value system.

But that's not right. At all. Now that I do not have the perfect 16-year-old body, I have finally found my truth in the mirror. I am a beauty queen, BECAUSE I HOLD MY VALUE IN MY MIND, NOT IN SOMEONE ELSE'S. I look at my reflection and refuse to let my eyes follow the distractions that society would have me define my worth on. I see each stretch mark, fat deposit, thick thighs, cellulite dimple, flabby upper arm and understand that none of those outside attributes make me who I am, nor do they detract from my beauty.

I choose to live a Beauty Queen State of Mind.

And if you come sniffing around trying to take that away from me or any other woman or young girl, you'd better bring backup, because I'm bringing an army of me. And we will fuck your shit up.