I’m an over-discloser….and proud!

As a child i aspired to be, amongst other things, a prostitute.

I entirely blame my mother for this as, in an attempt to “de-taboo” the horizontal tango she bravely and openly explained to my sisters and i what a special, natural and pleasureable experience the art of love-making between a man and a woman who loved each other could be.

Ever the optimistic, and a natural mathematician, i quickly put two and two together and made 69, realising that being paid to engage in such pleasureable and much sought after activities was probably the “crown jewels” of employment opportunity….something to aspire towards.

This may not have been my mothers intention.

Luckily, before the legal age of consumation i settled myself into a long-term relationship with a partner who was not in favour of the plan A career path and thus an alternative career in accountancy materialised.

As two youngsters in lust, we were without our own space in which to explore this new-found art and suffered limited guidance….the few biology teachers willing to stretch a condom over an overly large test tube…. the rambling lies of other teenage boys and girls who had apparently “done it” loads of times despite not having gone through puberty…. and the rare but treasured pirate porn videos we would occasionally stumble across

As such our sexual life became pretty adventurous….in location, in scope and in…. spite of occasional failed efforts, such as the infamous time our attempt to recreate a Thai ping pong show nearly ended up with a trip to A&E. I think these things make a relationship stronger.

Sadly, without nurturing, these crucial elements of a relationship can die over time, and with that death can ultimately come a passing of the relationship itself, as was eventually the case for us, 15 years later

A little further down the line, having touched on a few sexual encounters which have rekindled an understanding of the potent possibilities for adventure and intimacy out there and i find myself intentionally single, googling the legendary sex and female empowerment therapist Kim Anami, and feeling as unafraid of putting objects into my vagina as i did as a teenage girl.

On a forced period of abstinence, due to hip surgery, and with pelvic floor exercises a key part of my recovery routine anyway, fate has called on me to start to re-engage with and retrain my vagina, and in doing so start to “unlock the secret powers” that apparently reside within that part of my body (who knew!)

The timing also seems right to start to share my journey on this with you (you lucky things)

For years of my life people have told me i share too much, i’m too honest, i’m too open and i need to wear more of a mask. A mask at work, a mask at home and a mask with people i don’t know. I’ve been called naive, weird, brave, stupid you name it, i’ve heard it….but i’ve decided that my ability to be open and honest is not a burden or a curse, it’s my superpower. Being able to be 100% myself and have relationships and conversations with people based on utter honesty, on reality as we all experience it, (but don’t discuss), and on the most controversial topics in life is what makes me unique, not weak.

I’m an overdiscloser….and i’m proud of it!

I don’t think this was my mothers intention.

So, despite having no real clue what i’m doing, no mentor and no handbook, thanks to the marvellous power of the internet my first weeks vaginal training has started.

I’m not going to lie, it’s been messy.

I’ve melted my original jade egg strings in an OCD cleaning incident and replaced them with dental floss (note to self…next time don’t go for mint), i’ve lost the safety ball on the end of one string meaning i’ve twice slept with that egg in and then failed to find the string to remove it in the morning (like i didn’t learn the first time!) and i’ve constructed a makeshift set up with a hair band and small silk pouch which constantly fails me and within which i’ve worked up from a lipbalm to a canister of hair oil and eventually upgraded to a large moisturizer hung precariously directly from the hairband, but which has several times risked smashing on my black granite bathroom tiles as i’ve failed to hold the weight with my novice pink fortress.

I took a 1kg weight upstairs with me today. I soon realised that was overly optimistic

So i no longer aspire to be a prostitute, regularly question my own judgement and optimism, have a mother who is undoubtedly at a point of total despair with me and a new hobby which can’t be put to good use for another six months but nonetheless i feel a sense of personal and spiritual growth which only comes from putting yourself outside your comfort zone…. plus of course the unfamiliar feeling of a piece of minty dental floss between my legs!