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My Netherlands
Well, you see, the sky was so blue today and everything was so green and fragrant I just had to be a part of it. And the Untersberg kept leading me higher and higher until I wanted to go right through the clouds with it...
. . .which shall be private no more.
I love my vagina. I love how pretty it is, how mysterious it is, how metaphoric it can be. I love how my room-mate once went on a geology field trip to these drippy caves and the pictures she took reminded me of wombs and Mother Earth and clitoris. I love my clitoris. I love my pubic hair. I love my parts that I forget the names of, because sometimes I like the words "pussy lips" better, even though they're kind of lame. I love the word pussy. I love the word cunt. I love how many words there are for my vagina. I love other women's vaginas, too. I love how they're different colors and different parts have different sizes and different women have different thoughts about theirs.
I especially love how I can just love my vagina, and end it there. I love how I don't have to defend my love for it, or justify it, or express it, or think about it, because my vagina will always be there for me to love, unless a Mack truck runs over my lower half and I have to get my hips cut off. I love how big words and academic discussion and other weird stuff confuses and makes my brain all hurty, but not my vagina. My vagina is very straightforward and unequivocal about what it is and what it wants, and that's why I love it.
Mostly I just love it because it's mine, and no one can ever take that away. Unless, again: Mack truck.
Because there's not enough mindless squeeing going on in them there parts, and we've been having very fine weather.
. . .which shall be private no more.
I love my vagina. I love how pretty it is, how mysterious it is, how metaphoric it can be. I love how my room-mate once went on a geology field trip to these drippy caves and the pictures she took reminded me of wombs and Mother Earth and clitoris. I love my clitoris. I love my pubic hair. I love my parts that I forget the names of, because sometimes I like the words "pussy lips" better, even though they're kind of lame. I love the word pussy. I love the word cunt. I love how many words there are for my vagina. I love other women's vaginas, too. I love how they're different colors and different parts have different sizes and different women have different thoughts about theirs.
I especially love how I can just love my vagina, and end it there. I love how I don't have to defend my love for it, or justify it, or express it, or think about it, because my vagina will always be there for me to love, unless a Mack truck runs over my lower half and I have to get my hips cut off. I love how big words and academic discussion and other weird stuff confuses and makes my brain all hurty, but not my vagina. My vagina is very straightforward and unequivocal about what it is and what it wants, and that's why I love it.
Mostly I just love it because it's mine, and no one can ever take that away. Unless, again: Mack truck.
Because there's not enough mindless squeeing going on in them there parts, and we've been having very fine weather.
no subject
Chica! You ain't seen nothin' yet!
I must be wierd too because it made me want to go get my compact out of my purse!!! *blushes*
It's not weird. At least, it's not weird to me, and imo, it shouldn't be weird. I believe women should want to look at and explore their bodies, and that it shouldn't be embarrassing for them. That's how I think, anyway.