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.
Had we but world enough, and time,
ReplyDeleteThis coyness, Lady, were no crime
We would sit down and think which way
To walk and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, Lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song: then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapt power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Through the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.
You are an awesome Anonymous.
ReplyDeleteYou know that Anonymous didn't write that him- or herself, right?
ReplyDeletehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/To_His_Coy_Mistress
Wow, Factchecker, nothing gets by you, does it?
ReplyDelete(Yes, I did in fact know the poem. I've read books and stuff, seriously.)
"smoke 'em if you got 'em..." hearing a woman says that about her pussy is FUCKING HOT!
ReplyDeleteWell said, Holly. This is EXACTLY why you should get LOTS of labia piercings now, before it's too late. ;)
ReplyDeleteP.S.: And it would be perfectly fine if you were drunk at the time, too. The catch-basin works just as well collecting blood as it does when you start, ahem, barking at ants.
... "barking at ants?"
ReplyDeleteJack, are you just a figment of my fevered imagination? Do I type your comments myself and then purge the memory? Thinking carefully, have I ever seen another person speak directly to you? Because sometimes I think this is the most logical explanation for everything.
But hey, if I'm drunk and I happen to consent to labia piercing, hey, no takey backsies.
(I kid. Takey backsies are a vital component of the sex-positive feminist construction of consent.)
"I kid. Takey backsies are a vital component of the sex-positive feminist construction of consent"
ReplyDeleteLOL - takey backsies will now feature prominently in my consent conversations
Holly,
ReplyDeleteYou've figured it out, I'm your Tyler Durden.
You've never seen anyone speak directly to me without them actually try to speak directly to you. That coginitive dissonance explains why you feel so socially awkward at times, and why the people around you so often seem to be giving the 'fuck you talkin' 'bout, Willis?' look. It also explains why you're so tired that you fall asleep in your car and such.
And in this round of Seven-Card Labia Piercings, I'll see your takey backsies and raise you one ball gag and set of cuffs. :)
I wish I could say the same. So far mine breaks under too much pressure, "Too much" being what's probably average to most other folks. Even if it doesn't break, it feels like it's about to. I estimate I got maybe 20 relatively good years of vagina left, once I enter menopause all bets are off. I hope my clitoris lasts longer.
ReplyDeleteHow am I supposed to have a baby with this thing.
Well, I don't think someone is "awesome" for clogging up a comments section that I'm trying to read with a 40-plus-line poem that they didn't even write themselves. Why didn't they just quote the most important lines, or post a link to the whole poem?
ReplyDeleteYou could have 95 years left, if you indeed live to be 120! I plan on fucking as long as I can do it and find partners.
ReplyDeleteI heard about a feminist 60's slogan that went something like this: It's not a hole, it's a muscle.
ReplyDeleteThis is sad-making. I have been blessed with a half-broken vagina. I don't lubricate well naturally unless I have an orgasm and I can't insert something as big as a penis without lube and pain (at first, at least).
ReplyDeleteAnd then sometimes I just go numb? And sometimes I get pain out of nowhere. Not-good pain.
Sad-making. Though despite that, I have an extremely fulfilling sex life, as I come about 8-9 times per encounter with PIV sex (my favourite kind!). They start out very shy, kind of miniorgasms, and then build up into oh-my-god moan-my-head-off orgasms during the course of about 15 minutes. If it lasts much more than that, I usually start hurting.
Want to trade?