While I was pottering about on Mastodon the other day, I came across the term Vulvember for the first time in my life. It was accompanied by an absolutely gorgeous picture from a mutual of her vulva.
There’s a collection of kinky Germans waves at said Germans on Mastodon with whom I’m in touch. They came up with this concept following Cocktober, which is pretty established and has various definitions in the Urban Dictionary. I did a search. There was very little to find, but I did discover that the term Vulvember is used by another person who is promoting gynaecological awareness in Australia.
I really like the idea of Vulvember. It seems like a nice kind of diving platform to launch yourself from to celebrate this very beautiful piece of anatomy. But before we do, let’s get our terms straight, shall we?
Terminology
When people refer to that whole area down there between my legs as a vagina, it really gets my back up. Dude, all that on the outside; that’s my vulva! The collective name for all that external genitalia: the outer and inner labia, the urethral and vaginal openings, the gorgeous rise of the mons pubis (I love viewing that part of the body on ALL sexes, from ALL sides and on ALL body types), and of course that most magic of buttons the clitoris, and her hood.
We all have such wonderful, diverse bodies and the vulva is a fabulous example of this. Every vulva is different. There’s absolutely no normal vulva. They are so fucking interesting and variable; textures, proportions, labia shape, clit protrusion, hue in comparison to the rest of your skin. Then throw sexual arousal into the mix, and see the effect it has on each of these elements. That’s probably worth a fantasy blog post all of its own.
So, what about the big question:
Hair or no Hair?
‘Scuse the old school slang, but I love to see a hairy fanny. It gives me the impression that the person who owns that labia is deeply in touch with their natural sexuality, and completely comfortable in their own skin in all its glory. But there’s a bit more to it than that; it triggers something inside me, and I can’t quite explain it. Maybe it’s just the huge turn on that confidence sparks in me. And I do like body hair in general, on other people.
And then there’s the hair; a pure preference thing that in every case belongs only to the vulva owner. Others can have their own preferences on what they like to see, and that’s also fine. Just don’t ever diss a vulva or their owner on how they style themselves.
Personally, I like to trim. My hair is lush and if I let it be, it can get uncomfortably long. On occasion I just remove it all, completely. Why do I do this? For added sensory pleasure! And I get a sexy kick while I shave it off. When I do it, it’s a ritual part of my own private foreplay. I’m getting myself ready for some joyous sex extravaganza, and part of the build-up for me is personal self-care.
Impact of Cultural Influence
Have you ever put off going to the doctor because of the future embarrassment? I have. While I was taking a shower last year, I discovered a painless lump near the opening of my vagina. After the initial cold-shock passed, I self-diagnosed and waited it out. Didn’t even tell my man (surprise, my love!).
It’s not like I haven’t been through a pelvic floor exam before. The first time I found myself in those stirrups was when as a teen, when my then boyfriend got an STD. His family blamed me, though I had not had sex with anyone but him. If I’d listened to myself when he gave me glandular fever a few months before, perhaps I wouldn’t have wound up in those stirrups so early.
Sorry dancing around the point – which is this: without fail every two to three years since that first time I have been in that chair, with my legs propped up in those stirrups and a doctor between them, opening me up with a speculum. There’ve been a plethora of different medics standing there peering into the deepest depths of me and taking a cell sample from my cervix. And, here’s the point: In all that time, I only ever encountered one who was neither empathic nor clinical in their approach. My current gyno (I’ve moved on since the experiences I talked about here) is the second kindest I’ve met, so it’s not like I need to be scared or afraid.
But I still found myself not wanting to go. The thing is, your vulva is just another part of your body, so why should I not go to the damn doctor if I need to! And I challenge myself to bite the bullet next time. Luckily for me, my self-diagnosis worked. Within weeks, the lump was gone.
So, why didn’t I even call the clinic to ask if I should come in? Could it have something to do with the impact of the cultural shame of owning a vulva, and then the added shame of actually having something going wrong with it? I’ve given this some thought now, and I would say the answer is yes. Another conversation worth having, but not now.
This is a celebration after all!
The Mind-Blowing Anatomy of the Clitoris
I read “Come as you Are” a few years back and was gobsmacked to find out that the clitoris was only fully mapped in the early 2000s.
And it’s not just a little pleasure button arranged beautifully within the vulval area. It’s a beast of an organ. The glans, aka the pleasure button, is just the tiniest part, and the only part directly stimulable from the outside. The clitoris is a massive organ, including the crura and vestibular bulbs, which wrap around the vaginal canal and extend toward the perineum, the area between the vagina and the anus.
When you get sexually excited the whole thing swells up, elongates inside you. For me, this internal arousal sometimes feels like something has flipped inside; it’s a gorgeous indication of just how hot and horny I’m feeling. I get super tight because of the swelling, pressing against the walls of my vagina.
And, Great News: These areas of the clitoris can be stimulated internally! Even having something inserted into the anus can create pressure throughout the area that helps stimulate the clitoral vestibular bulbs.
And that, people, is one of the reasons why I LOVE being bent over the table with a plug stuffed into my anus, while someone fucks my vaginal canal nice and hard with a dildo and simultaneously teases my glans with great sweeping licks of their tongue, until I come so fucking hard, moaning and sobbing and grinding my shapely, possibly shaved mons pubis against the edge of the table.
Vulvember!
So yeah, Vulvember might have started playfully, but to me it’s something beautifully real; an invitation to curiosity, pride, and pleasure. If pictures of real vulvas are shared by their owners on social media for Vulvember, brilliant. The gorgeous image my mutual posted is rightly shameless and it did generate conversation around elements of preference and such. I’m inspired by her bravery.
I’ve already shared one of my own.