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Tag: vaginas

Women's Bits

There I was at my keyboard, writing about something sensible and semi-important, when this news popped up on my screen: “Nearly Half of Young Women in the U.K. Don’t Know Where Their Vagina Is.” And because a headline like that can’t be ignored, you’ll just have to wait for a sensible, semi-important column another time.

My first reaction to this news, naturally, was shock. I hadn’t realized that so many British women share a vagina. And not a one of them could track the thing down? To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, for one woman to lose such a thing may be regarded as misfortune; for hundreds to lose it looks like carelessness.

I kept reading and learned that a survey of 1,000 British women revealed that only half of those aged 26-35 were able to correctly identify the vagina on a simple diagram of a woman’s reproductive system. And I mean simple. Like if there’d been a “You are here” icon, the survey participants could have spun 180 degrees and seen their vaginas is how simple it was.

The survey also showed that while young gals generally did not know which way was up, older women could tell an ovary from a uterus just fine and a cervix from a fallopian tube, thank you very much.

Don't Say 'Vagina'

It was the “vagina” heard round the world. Michigan State Rep. Lisa Brown was on the House floor, speaking out against a bill that would restrict abortion access, when she uttered these bons mots:

“And finally, Mr. Speaker, I’m flattered that you’re all so interested in my vagina, but no means no.”

From that place of interest, a great controversy was born. Republican House leaders barred Brown, a Democrat, from speaking in the state legislature the following day for trouncing on “the decorum of the House of Representatives.” They called into question her “maturity and civility.”

And feminists — as you might imagine — blew a flipping fuse. Brown and other women lawmakers performed The Vagina Monologues on the Capitol steps before 3,000 Michiganites waving signs like “MI-gina” and “I have a vagina, a voice, and a vote.” Their point, and it’s a good one: How can you dare legislate a body part that you can’t even speak of aloud?

Watch Her Strut

Long have men made a hobby of studying women’s wiggles. Dale Hawkins liked the way his Susie Q swaggered in the ’50s. In the midst of his 1979 hit “Here Comes My Girl,” Tom Petty erupted in a growly “Watch her walk!” Jane Fonda’s girlish gait inspired Bob Seger to pen the roadhouse grinder “Her Strut”: “They do respect her, but … they love to watch her strut.” (Or perhaps it’s: “They do respect her butt. They love to watch her strut.” Either way, really.)

Now researchers in Europe have turned men’s perambulation-peeping pastime from an art into a science. A recent study published in the Journal of Sexual Medicine showed that just by watching a woman walk, experts could predict her ability to have vaginal orgasms (as opposed to clitoral orgasms, which sticklers consider to be cheating but which, for the record, most women still prefer over a dozen roses).

Researchers at the University of the West of Scotland had a sampling of young women answer questions about their sexual history. Then they videotaped the ladies walking through a public place and asked a couple of “trained sexologists” to watch the tape and guess which ones were prone to vaginal orgasms. Let’s pause here while our male readers kick themselves for going into the wrong line of work.

Designer Vaginas

If it weren’t for my girlfriends, I would know nothing.

Over delicate lunches and sloppy happy hours, they keep me abreast of life’s juicy tidbits; which teachers are retiring and which couples divorcing, which restaurants are closing and which movies opening.

But my gal pals caught me off guard recently when they told me about a freaky new nether-trend. I was biting into an overpriced burger downtown when one of my diva dining companions let this rip:

“Ever heard of a labe trim?”

Surely I had heard her wrong; I demanded clarification.

“Getting snipped. Down there. You know… to make it… neater.”

She could have at least waited ’til I was finished chewing.

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