Monday, October 29, 2012

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Toilet Paper Treaty

I live with TimV and a young woman, age 19. They don't care what they wipe their asses with. I do. So, a while back with my baking soda purchase I bought myself this body-friendly tp. They used it all up and quickly. Flush that! I drove to the health store and bought 12 new rolls. Then I drove to another store and they bought other, whatever-is-cheapest rolls. Then I drove to the hardware store and bought a toilet paper holder. "This is mine!" I raised up my silver-coated jumble of bars and springs. The housemates ughed but I cared not. "My vagina is getting what it wants!" I finished. Now there will be two toilet paper rolls attached to the wall in the bathroom, one that holds "100% recycled sources made from at least 80% post-consumer content, with clean and green processes that are safe for people and contribute to a sustainable environment." Plus, "exceptionally soft, economical, hypoallergenic, whitened without chlorine bleach, no dyes or fragrances." Yes!

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

..........a............

Notes: post-movie, pre-bed.
  • It is day three of my cycle. There were no signs of blood for three bathroom sits, at least. Then, a little red in the evening. Zero pads = save the planet.
  • I've been thinking a lot about an ex-partner, craving whatever he possesses. I think there is something there which I'll include in my daily inventory to track, currently I'm guessing. 
  • I spoke on my vagina's behalf tonight for sexual enhancement. The request was heard and matched. 
  • I've decided to take this month as a prepisode for next month. As part of this staging I'm categorizing vaginal discharge, much like Bristol's Stool Chart categorizes feces. Rather sliding my vaginal fluid's color, viscosity, odor, and quantity along Likert Scales I'm going to create categories based on a review of literature, conversations and personal experience to denote what my vagina emits each day.
 My vagina is happily not sore, not angry, not deprived, not leaking, and not hopeless.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Sticky note rescue

Tags.
  • I'm four regular pads into my period (day two, bright red, no lumps). I change pads based on time not because they are full.
  • At night I sleep without a pad but when I stand up out of bed in the morning, I immediately wonder why I consistently do this to my underwear, bloody them, I mean. 
  • I refrain from tampons after years of use. Maybe to keep less out. I tried a reusable menstrual cup (Diva) but found small holes in the lips I didn't trust for cleanliness. I choose organic pads with wings. I'm looking into alternatives.
  • I am the most aroused during menstruation. I call it The Week Anything Goes. Hard, fast, long, rough, over and over, my body can handle it better with blood and want it that way.
  • Menstrual blood, day two, is like paint. I have to put down a towel or expect the sheets to get kissed. Then there's the body blood swirling around his pubis, up on the my inner thighs, his scrotum, penis, my hands. 
  • TimV does not like this. For thirty-eight months he hasn't liked it. 
Today my vagina would like to report that beside it in bed there was a fully erect penis motivated to penetrate. My vagina was baffled. Usually it is begging, sulking in rejection or coming from pity-sex. Now, it was just going to get its way?! I was spun around but available--so "Yes, let's do, after I relieve my bladder, wipe the fresh plop of blood off, wash my hands, and let the dogs out."

Vagina Report: Sex. Slow to start. Wet from blood and saliva. Resisted deep penetration until tenting occurred. Woman on top position, verbal fantasy, headache probably from dehydration, sense of fullness, enjoyed most of it, orgasm was boxy (tall without a spike), back to resting state and sleep for me.

Then I woke up to a consumptive logging stream in my brain: urine, light yellow, almonds, 8 oz. of water, clothed except head, hands and feet, horny. After work I  continued last night's determined efforts to collect data consistently plunking away at questions on the Qualtrics server. It is the best survey system I've seen and that is just from the free trial version. Many possibilities that I see as opportunities had me spilling out variables, and variables of variables until I was overwhelmed.
           In defense, I take to a black Sharpie and sticky notes. I wrote down everything I wanted to measure or hold against the independent variable--time. Tomorrow more hours will go to this chore and I will eventually settle on a method that is both searching and manageable.
This is my infant vagina map.

 


    Sunday, June 5, 2011

    Bike Seats and Backaches

    Enter Midol. I took a pill two nights ago to curb some of the pre-menstrual irritability I felt coming on (it soothed). Then another yesterday (also helpful). It relieved me right into a state of forgetting menstruation and I proceeded to work-it, work-it. I gardened more, hand-tilled my lawn for new seed, and rode my bike for nine miles, after a three-season hiatus (Vagina Challenge Level: moderate-high). My vagina decided it does not like bike riding.
               I could write a vagina diatribe cursing the seats and stone roads of my junket but instead, I'm moving on. My new Super Kegel, from the church, can wait to be test-run. No working-out today! My vagina will be lounging in sweat-shorts and I will be eating stale brownies from the pan. I will not be clenching. I will not be limbercizing. I will be bleeding. And I will be plotting data collection methodology so that I know better next time and spare the bloody underwear.
               Page two of the Super Kegel manual features:
    Diagram from page 2 of The Super Kegel product manual.
    "The Super Kegel comes with the adjustable tension device preset to the lowest tension setting and should remain so throughout the program....Once you can go through the entire Super Kegel program, complete all sets and repetitions and get the wings completely closed, you may want to increase the resistance tension to create a challenge for your yourself and to maintain optimal fitness."
              Yah SK, put me in my place. My vagina needs to remain on the lowest tension setting. It needs me to give it a spreadsheet (pun!) and leave business of surgical stainless steel and a pliable outer body alone. It needs a break from the bike, and a new set of vulvawears. It needs me to complete all the sets and reps of daily vagina existence before bringing on the strain. It needs to know that I'm paying attention.
    *Day 1 of a woman's menstrual cycle, marked by first signs of blood, is an excellent day to begin tracking. 
    **There are iPhone Apps designed to track menstrual cycles and fertility including weight, breast and mood changes.

    What the church sold my vagina

    Last night's clouds were like spawning sock-eyes (red), which meant a dry day to follow. "Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in morning, sailors take warning." The weather forecast also predicted a weekend of sun I've been craving.
              So naturally I would plan a morning of Saturday sale-ing, the garage version. I would find a wheel barrow and a bean pole. Maybe some other trash-to-treasures. Ha! I slept in. My big morning became a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, one garage sale stop on the way to running errands.
              Between my house and first destination, there were two sales. I skipped the first at an apartment building  and opted for the next corner where there was a church sale. "Hi" I said to the nice ladies running the show and started the polite walk-by to scan merchandise. For a seasoned saler the walk has its heuristics to assess the seller's belongings for value. To include you in the appraisal I've categorized the sales into categories:
              1. Traditional Sale: baby clothes, puzzles, happy meal toys, books and first-generation appliances. It is advertised in the newspaper and well-marked with signs.
              2. Type-casted Sale: the personality of a few items can usually determine the character of the rest. Eg. hardware or scrap fabric.One buyer who has a similar personality to the seller could buy it all, or scorn it for being over-priced.
              3. Black Jack Sale: it takes time to read whether or not a sale is hot. The best salers can weed out most on a drive-by but they know their best luck comes from taking the gamble. They go where things aren't promoting themselves to be bought, deeper into the garage, bamn! that's the money.
              4. Address Sale: "Park the car this garage is attached to a mansion!" or "Keep driving this street is getting rid of everything I already have." People shop neighborhoods in this case and early birds know where the worms usually are.
    Vagina Bench Press.
              I thought the church sale was an address sale, maybe even type-casted. I expected lots of stuff especially Christmas lights and angel figurines. Surprise to my vagina--it was a Black Jack and there on a table boxed up without flare was a Super Kegel. $1.00.
     Oh nice church ladies, you go girls!

    I lifted the top of the box expecting a used dilator but found what looks like an enlarged, blue gravy boat, still packaged and awkward to boot. I'll give a vagina report on the use later. Until then here's to, "Red sky at night, saler's delight!"

    *Kegels (pronounced, kay-gills) are a type of exercise designed to work the pubococcygeal or PC muscles. The PC muscles cover most of the genital region from the pubic bone to the anus, like pelvic flooring. It plays a major role in the structure and power of the sexual center for the following benefits: (1) prevention of urge and stress urination—or peeing unwantedly; (2) aid in bowel control; (3) more comfortable pregnancy, labor, delivery, and recovery; (4) increased pleasurable sensations; (5) improved circulation through the groin, consequently bringing more lubrication to the surface; and (6) more genital control. 

    Friday, June 3, 2011

    Anal Sex and Strawberry Leaves

    My vagina took a break today, tapped and climbed out of the ring. Although the fissures healed I'm still experiencing the mean stuff. This creamy, white syrup that coats everything inside is like friction food. It is not slippery, nice vaginal lubricant. It is angry and dries the whole damn situation to "like the desert", he said, "you could grow cactus there."
              Yesterday I failed to mention that he, the man who puts his penis inside my vagina, griped about having creative sex, meaning he wanted it like usual, vaginal-penile penetrative without any, well, creativity due to not-slippery-when-wet. Ahhhhh. My vagina would like to report that this was not a sexy request. And while I do like that he enjoys how we usually sex, I also appreciate versatility.
              So after some physical and emotional blows, my vagina submitted to not getting the V-P sex. Of course. Vagina just came off a week of the papercuts, still parched, and now shuffled around by a request for monotonous, vanilla intercourse. Huh.
              Anus takes the ring--I switched entry points and proceeded with a different kind of caution. Happily anal sex was great. My vagina was thrilled to vacation and my clitoris received just as much attention in the same woman on top positive I tried to rock vaginally.
              Promptly afterward, I took a shower with the man who puts his penis inside my vagina and my anus (TMWPHPIMV-->TMMV-->TimV). We got dressed in farmer clothes, had lunch: tofu korma, lentils and kale, with Basmati rice. Then, per my request, we went to the nursery for trees. While shopping I came upon a package of strawberry seeds. Unlike like any other package on a wall of seed options this one blurted its remedial powers. For menstrual cramps! I took my stack of seeds: zukes, peas, lettuce, carrots, poppies, sunflowers, radishes, and strawberries to the white-haired green-thumb who was answering all my questions and asked her advice on planting from seeds. Everything was a go but the strawberries. Referring to the menstrual cramp relief tag she asked, "Are you growing strawberries to eat or er, uh?" "Both," I replied. She suggested grown plants and I bought 25 for $11 something.
    My uterus' cramp alleviating strawberry leaves.
         For the rest of daylight the seeds, Dahlia bulbs, peonies, four raspberry bushes, an apricot tree, cherry tree, and strawberries were submerged in rich, wet but not slippery, soil. Each one considered for its beauty, taste and productivity to enrich the landscape. The strawberries, specifically served additional function--combat against a future opponent--the cramps.
         Note: Since sentence one of this record I have been using fighting words. "Tapped", "submitted", "ring". I even perused the Ultimate Fighter fan page to make sure I was using them correctly. Then I realized how much of a fight I've been having with my vagina, how many fights we've been through in the past, and the reality of more to come. Reading through boxing terminology surfaced analogies for all the attacks I've felt to my body. It also surfaced the how-tos for offensive hits and blocking punches. Applicable as fighting may be to my vagina's experiences--years back with on-going dyspareunia (pain during intercourse),  recent fissures, the mean white stuff, male intention, self-inflicted expectations to perform, and monthly menstruation--it is not how I want to view those experiences.
    Tonight my vagina gets a new attitude--rather than viewing the world as a boxing ring, I choose a garden. Like nurturing those strawberries, I'm going to pull the weeds and foster sweet solutions. You just watch, this is the Vagina Report!