Va-jay-jay.

I started this about a month ago, and I have hit a wall with it, so I’m leaving it unfinished and will revisit after I can sit and get some clarity on what I am saying.

I saw this article today and I had to share it.  It poses an interesting question in these changing times—-would you ever do a casting of your lady parts?  In spite of the #metoo movement and all the pro-woman stuff going on, we are still shamed for being sexual, for liking sex, for admitting that we masturbate and even for just admitting we love the benefits that come with being a chick.

Bear with me, I might struggle with my point a bit.

I had a conversation with my Aunt the other night about the #metoo movement and our differing views on why it’s happening now.  I think generationally(I know, it’s not a real work but neither is misunderestimate and yet it’s one of 43’s best known words) speaking there is a gap in how women are handling this movement.  There are women who want to burn Aziz Ansari for not being a mind-reader.  There are women who are basically saying everyone needs to chill the fuck out and calm their tits. I can only speak of my experiences.

I was raised pretty strict.  Actually, very strict. And strict about some weird stuff.  For example, after Roseanne Barr sang the anthem, I was never allowed to watch anything she was in.  Ever.  Or, while my father was home–my mom DGAF, so as long as Dad never saw my watching, I was cool.  My parents are older, my mom was 38 and my dad was 45 when I was born.  Yes, my parents were trendsetters being old parents before it was cool to be old parents.  My siblings that I grew up with were 16,17 and 21yrs older than me, so I didn’t have regular siblings to teach me anything.  My Mother is as catholic as they get, and my Dad was not as great at communicating with his family as he was with clients.

I don’t remember a sex talk from my parents.  I don’t remember any sex ed from school.  I’m sure they “taught” us something, but it had nothing to do with actual sex.  Sex was something that I had to figure out myself and what happened was I grew up believing some version of this:  Sex is for pretty people. If you aren’t one of the pretty people, no one will want you.  If no one wants you, you are worthless. Therefore, because I did not have sex in high school I might as well have not existed as a girl. 

This is probably why I am such great friends with men—I’ve been friend-zoned since the dawn of time, so I can channel my inner-dude like nobody’s business.

To be continued.

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