Masturbation. Is it just me or does that word have the power to make you blush? I’m the same way with “vagina”—I don’t know why, I always feel the need to call it something else like “hoo-hoo” or “you know what.” It’s ridiculous, really.
Why is there so much taboo wrapped up in self-touch? It’s like we keep this perfectly natural impulse locked away and hidden, pretending it doesn’t exist. Guilt, shame—why are we so convinced that pleasing ourselves is wrong? It’s my body, isn’t it? At what point did I learn that I’m not allowed to touch it; and if I do, well...that’s a dirty little secret I need to keep to myself.
I’m seriously getting over the whole “being ashamed of indulging my senses” bullshit. I love the high I get from chocolate. I love the warm and fuzzy buzz I get from wine. And I love the toe curling, mind blowing, all-encompassing, tingly rush of a good orgasm—whether I get it from my husband…or my other partner that has five speeds and requires two double A’s.
Welcome to Confabulous, peeps—we’re getting down and dirty this week. My gorgeous co-host, Pati Root, and I are talking about the self-inflicted Big O: why masturbation is awesome and why you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.
Vibrator. There I said it.
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