Something you should know about my vagina: it is not fragile. It is a big, tough muscle, as capable of stretching and flexing and holding its own as a bicep or a thigh. My vagina can take a hit. Every part is tough, gristly, firmly attached; it would take a very deliberate or completely insane attack to truly damage it. I may be sensitive in this area, my nerves may complain, but mt flesh itself is nowhere near its breaking point.
Something else you should know about my vagina: it's mine. Not idealogically mine like my soul is; literally mine, like my car is. I have a vested interest in keeping my car running and undented, but sometimes I'll do donuts or drive offroad or through puddles that are just a little too deep, because my car is mine to play with.
And one last thing about my vagina: it's temporary. We build things, sometimes, with no clear idea that they will end; companies do not plan to go out of business eventually, houses are not built to only stand for a while, governments do not conduct business keeping in mind that their rule has to end sometime. But they will. And on my vagina the deadline is even more clear: it's got about sixty years left. Maximum. After that, everything I might do to preserve my vagina's pristine and dignified nature becomes an extremely moot point. So... smoke 'em if you got 'em.
I am not am accidental slut. I am a slut by way of philosophical conviction.