I saw The Vagina Monologues for the first time last night (with D - and we got to make out afterward....heheheeeeeee
) and it was awesome! It made me think how much I take mine for granted. I never really thought about it - whether I liked it, hated it, thought it was nice, whatever - until recently. (Actually it was a couple of posts in Tilted Sexuality about men wanting to know how to keep their girlfriends' inner labia from turning into "beef curtains" and then I got all self-conscious because all the women on the TB have these pert little clamshell pussies, and I have rather Georgia O'Keefe ruffly flower-petal labia and they protrude a bit and I never really knew they were supposed to do anything else. I'm over it.)
Anyhow, a couple of the questions the playwright asked the interviewees on whose experiences the play is based were:
1. If your vagina could talk, only 2 words, what would it say? (Some examples were SLOW DOWN! and Over here!)
2. What would your vagina wear?
So, I'm game. Are you?
If my vagina could talk, it would say...tease me.
It would wear a pretty purple tulle and taffetta party dress from the 50s, all lacy and feminine and demure, but with 3 1/2" spike heels, and underneath the dress it'd be wearing a leather corset and garters and maybe a strap-on
