From the archives.
A letter submitted to www.dodsonandross.com by Arielle Anker.
Dear sweet friend,
First and foremost, although I have never had the pleasure of seeing it (which can, of course, almost immediately be remedied… butt I digress), I am so sure you have a beautiful pussy. I just know it. I’m picturing it right now, and imagining…. simply breathtaking. And breath-giving!
PLEASE do not get labiaplasty or vaginoplasty or any kind of genital-altering cosmetic surgery.
I understand your feelings. I recognize what you are talking about from myself - I, too, can at the worst times feel ashamed of my cunt (I usually use the word “cunt” for my own). I worry that it is ugly, asymmetrical, vulgar, messy, too large, too loose, etc. In other words, I worry that my cunt is wrong and renders me unlovable. My labia are different from one another - both are fairly juicy, but the right lip is decidedly fat and about twice the size of the left one. A boyfriend once joked that my cunt looks like it’s sticking its tongue out at its beholder - initially I hated what he said, but upon further reflection I thought it was awesome - I have a sassy cunt, it’s got attitude.
When I was 16 and embarking upon a partner-sex life with my first boyfriend, I learned a lot about my cunt. Before then I’m not sure I ever gave much thought to how it looked. One time my fat right labia got stuffed and “caught” inside my vagina during intercourse - which we didn’t realize until afterwards, when I experienced intense chafing, soreness and swelling of said lip. I even went to the doctor with this “condition” - a swollen lip - because I hadn’t understood how it happened, it hurt like hell, and it scared me. Fortunately I had a sensible and sensitive doctor, who simply explained what she thought had happened, told me to lay off intercourse until my lip had recovered, and advised me to be conscious of my labia being “out of the way” for penetration. My boyfriend was smart and sweet and didn’t freak out at all, though he felt quite guilty for having contributed to any pain I was experiencing. He truly loved my cunt and lavished upon it much attention - a champion pussy-eater despite his young years! His adoration helped me to accept my labia, even though I was mortified by the “stuffing” incident. We laughed about it together for years afterwards, and it became one of many private references that could crack us up.
Since then, I have grown to love my cunt more and more, and also her appearance - first and foremost because she’s mine. I know her, we experience so much pleasure together - and we also give much pleasure to others. When I take care of her and treat her with kindness and respect, she rewards me boundlessly. Which is not to say that I do not have regular bouts of insecurity about my cunt. To begin with, I still don’t always think she’s particularly pretty. On a good day I can call her beautiful and powerful, but once in a while I think, “I wish I had a nice sweet pretty one…” (Because it seems a more lovable way to be - demure, pretty, delicately feminine. Fuck that! “Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.”) My cunt is proud and powerful and strong and hungry (adjectives not usually associated with classical notions of femininity = lovability), and she is completely feminine in a sexual goddess warrior way - I do believe she is worthy of worship!
I should mention that I have since learned that my fat right lip, for a while the bane of my existence and source of such shame, is exquisitely sensitive, more so than the smaller left one. It feels amazing to have it sucked, like the sensations from my clitoris extend and flow into the entire lip. When fully engorged with blood, my labia are astonishingly sensitive - and sometimes I can cum from stimulating them alone. So thank goddess for their size and utter orgasmic juicy voluptuousness!
It is of the essence to assert that I (and many other people, especially women), when experiencing anxiety, insecurity, anger, vulnerability, stress, etc. - any emotions that are challenging or painful for us to deal with and process - tend to channel these feelings into body hatred and shame. Sometimes we turn our feelings against ourselves, which manifests in negative body image and irrational “hang-ups”. And the worst part is, it’s neverending - because the root of the original emotions lies somewhere else, and we are not dealing with the root. e.g.: I’m stressed about work, I look in the mirror and think I look gross (and fat and ugly and unlovable). Then I obssess about my gross/ugly/fat insert-random-body-part-here, which actually does momentarily distract me from work stress, but then afterwards I feel even worse about myself, thereby feeling more stressed about work, less confident that I can figure stuff out at work, and on top of it all - I feel unlovable because of body issues. It’s a vicious cycle, and it’s endless.
Top that all off with the fact that we have rigid beauty standards and we are surrounded by a very narrow representation of human appearance. There is a wide variety of bodies and genitals, and if only we knew that ours are not freakishly abnormal and hence ugly (because they should look in this one particular way), it would be so much easier to love and accept ourselves. It makes me FURIOUS to think of all the energy I have wasted and still waste on hating my body and harboring toxic destructive thoughts about myself. I want to be free of this energy-sucking bullshit, it drains my creativity and productivity, it decreases my pleasure in life and keeps me in a cage! But it’s so complex and there are so many interfering factors and so many battles to fight - and when you see porn you see one kind of pussy - and you are taught that that is a sexy pussy that men want to fuck - and you are taught that men wanting to fuck you is love - that to be desired is to be loved - and so if you don’t have a particular kind of pussy, forget about ever being desired, not to mention loved…
When at our most vulnerable we fall victim to society’s narrow commercial standards of desirability also outside of porn (look like this if you want to get fucked; for only if you are fuckable are you lovable) - an ideal specifically manufactured to prey upon our insecurities in order to create the desire and desperation for whatever shit whoever wants to sell us. As long as I feel like shit about my appearance and about myself, someone can make a buck selling me something. When I give “them” my money for some random beauty product (dopamine boost response to temporarily forget and assuage an insecurity, as if I could buy myself some self-love), I give “them” energy I am thereby taking energy away from myself, away from sustainably investing in my own self-development. (I would love to do an experiment with insecure teenage girls who spend all their money on beauty products and skimpy clothes - what if for one year, every cent they spent on cosmetics, appearance-enhancing accessories and the like, they instead spent on books, academics, dance classes, camera equipment, art supplies, sports and other extracurricular activities, therapy, sex toys, etc. What if they invested their money in themselves?
I bet their self-esteem would sky-rocket during this year as they learned new things, overcame challenges, had real experiences, developed as human beings!) For every dollar I spend on an overpriced skin cream, I am spending one dollar less investing in my art, my work, myself. Am I really so insecure, do I really love myself so little, that I prefer to be beautiful and fuckable and lovable and a lesser artist, because I devote the majority of my time and energy to enhancing my appearance as opposed to developing my work? Sometimes it would seem so, and I am disgusted with myself! This pisses me off so much that sometimes when I’m down, struggling to love myself, feeling that everything is meaningless and lacking motivation for the good fight - in order to not beat myself up even more, I get in touch with my rage, and out of sheer spite I vow to work my ass off building my self-esteem - because I don’t want to fatten the wallets of any of those corporate fuckwads behind the advertising machine! I imagine my insecurity as big deposits in their bank accounts, debits from my own account, and this visualization helps me through. That “capital”, my time and my energy, must stay with me - and as much as I hate to use an annoying financial-strategy metaphor - I will pay myself first. So in our world of capitalism, advertising, and corporate rule, where time is money and money is power: pay yourself first! And let your pussy cash that first check.
So when you are upset and you feel like shit about your appearance or develop a new obssession about a body part - ask yourself, what is this really about? Life is uncertain, it can feel happening… chaotic and confusing, meaningless and out of control… Maybe you feel scared and insecure… DON’T MAKE YOUR PUSSY PAY THE PRICE. It won’t solve anything anyway. And you risk decreasing sensation and pleasure, surgical complications, and losing lots and lots of money. You are completely adorable and lovable and mad-fucking-hot just the way you are. The more you enjoy your pussy and the pleasure she gives and takes, the less you’ll focus on how she looks… And the more pleasure you feel, the more beautiful your pussy will become to you!
Juicy-dripping-horny-happy-dangling-snatch-slurpy-sloppy-kisses-VULVA LOVE from your pussy-preservation advocate friend!
SEVERE PUNISHMENT YEILDS OBEDIENT SLAVES. THIS BITCH WILL GET A DOUBLE DOSE!
I don’t care about your other responsibilities. You’re my boyfriend, and as far as I’m concerned that means one thing above all else: I get to fuck the shit out of you whenever I want!!
So forget about going into work today, bucko. Lie still and watch Princess dance on your cock — for the next three hours, you’re my fuck-toy!
I know I said I wasn’t going to post anything else, but this was too good.
She works out, he gets a workout.