It’s like breathing clean air to talk -- without judgment -- about stuff that matters, especially the stuff people don’t like to talk about. In my opinion most of us think we talk about sex, but we don’t really talk about sex. Dunno about you, but the polite society I live in likes to talk about talking about sex. For example, my girlfriends and I will make vague references at the kids' soccer games – in appropriately whispered tones for the underage venue -- about how glad we are that our husbands finally got over their fear that Viagra would un-macho them. We’ll wink when the kids go away to summer camp -- and then laugh together when it turns out that we still can’t squeeze sex into our schedules more than once a week while they’re gone. We’ll compliment each other on the clothes that make our cleavage deepen without saying that’s what’s so hot about it. But we don’t talk about why all this is so important, and we don’t share the true worries, anxieties and joys brewing between our legs.

I just read Lissa’s vagina book. Reading her earlier blog posts (Vagina!Vagina!Vagina!), I have to admit my instinct was initially, “Ugh, WHY do we have to talk about this?” But then I realized that I’ve spent the last few years getting in touch with my own sexuality and wondering what the hell took me so long. Why didn’t I discover the deeper joys of my vagina decades ago when my body could keep up with my desire? Reading the book was when I came to the full realization that I’m a Vaginal Hypocrite. I have no problem saying the word Vagina!, poking fun with friends, enjoying sex or going to the gynecologist. But I had kept my vagina’s best secrets to myself, literally in the dark with only a computer screen for company for decades. Decades! Well, ok, the hubby did get some glimpses. But still, the point is that by talking about talking about sex instead of bringing it out of the closet kept me from being as integrated or empowered as I’d like. I bet most of us aren’t. I want to fix that for all of us.

Why I Choose Anonymity

I told you I was a hypocrite. Here’s part of the reason why. I want to talk about sex. I want to let my freak flag fly in the hopes that we can all realize how normal the unspoken sexual "deviance" living inside us really is. The beauty of sexual deviance is that you and your partners – including and especially The Hand – get to decide for yourselves just how far to really go. And by exploring this subject without judgment and fear, I want us to find a little more mojo between the sheets that we can take back out into our lives. I wanna bring sex out of the bedroom and plunk it down in the middle of who we are as women.

But I don’t want to be defined by my sexuality. Lots of bloggers do and I admire their bravery a lot, but it’s not for me. In my day-to-day life, my sexuality fits nicely where it belongs: as one facet of a whole lotta me. But our culture doesn’t tend to treat sexuality as just a facet of who we are. Overt and explicit sexuality tends to dominate us if we “flaunt it.” I don’t think I could flaunt it if I wanted to. It’s just not my thing. I Own my Sexuality, and whole bunch of other stuff too. I Own all my Pink, not just my Vagina.

Just as importantly, I don’t want to lose my job due to an offended boss, or my friends’ respect – you know, the ones that really don’t want to know the TMI. I get that. I’m not sure I want to know my co-workers’ or soccer-mom friends’ sexual exploits while negotiating a contract or cheering the kiddies. It’s just... not what we’ve joined together to do. By contrast, I’ve had my most open sexual conversations when all the participants used the screen of anonymity to free us. Under pseudonyms we don’t have to worry about how we’d view each other over the conference or coffee table after confessions of BDSM fascination or dildo wars. So anonymity is just easier on everyone. So I’m going to keep my identity to myself. I’m going to talk here anonymously, and I invite you to post comments anonymously as well.

But I’m still a little conflicted. I mean, anonymity keeps me in hypocrite mode. It makes me feel a little less authentic to hide behind pink hair. And yet, I can already tell I’m speaking more authentically on the subject of sex than I do on my Facebook page where everything I say gets attributed to the me with the social security number: the wife, mom and worker-bee. So here I am in all my conflicted anonymity, admitting that my Vagina was my gateway to the divine feminine and inviting you to talk about your sexual questions and revelations with me.

At Lissa’s invitation, I’m just gonna own it and see where it takes me – and you.

Are you a Vaginal Hypocrite?

What about you? Do you think it’s important to talk about your vagina but don’t do it very often? With whom do you talk about vaginas and sex? With whom would that just not be a good idea? Are you just too embarrassed to even think about it? Do you find yourself able to speak more openly about sex with people you know well, or hardly at all? Have you ever participated in sex talk anonymously? How did it change your feelings on the subject? (And if you’ve never tried, give it a shot in the comments below!)

If no one could ever find out it was YOU, what would you say about sex and your body? If your vagina could talk, what would she say?

Warning. My posts are for adults. If you’re a guy, welcome, just be cool or I’ll delete your ass. If you don’t like explicit language and it makes you uncomfortable to explore, then I don’t blame you at all for stopping right here and never reading again. If you’re under 14, go away and for God’s sake, don’t comment if you insist on hanging around.