The first cut was the deepest (the imaginary circumcision that was)

Since https://mascarastreaks.wordpress.com/2014/01/30/a-strange-post-my-imaginary-circumcision/

I’m still processing things and am a little headfucked.

As the indignity of having (albeit a very lovely) doctor shining a light between my legs & peering and poking and prodding me unfolded, I was under the impression that this indignity would just confirm that I might be a bit over-imaginative and anxious.

In spite of my worries leading me to the doctor, I was VERY BLOODY SURPRISED to find out that my suspicion that everything wasn’t quite right down there, was not something created by my imagination, but something that was done to my child-body. I thought I may have been cut, I thought that perhaps a part of my clitoris had been cut out, but I was not right about that. My clitoral hood had been stitched over my clitoris.

Man, I still can’t believe I’m writing that – perhaps I’m in shock still. Am not sure how I process this. I do not think that it was my parents or done with their knowledge, but by relatives in one of the countries that I am from, over the summer when I was 7 or 8. It makes sense of some of the memories I have from a particular summer I spent there (I was sent there to stay with relatives & learn the culture/religion every summer). I’ll maybe talk about that another time, when my mind is less headfucked.

Gen-it-al mu-til-a-tion the words sound and feel so ugly in my head and my mouth. I know I’m so angry, I’m so humiliated, I’m so violent, I’ve been robbed. But I can’t feel. I can just sense myself, I can’t feel yet. I’m too scared to feel. I’m so betrayed. I’m so ashamed, but am not letting myself be ashamed, it’s not me that should be, but I am, somehow (I just can’t feel it, just sense it). The rage is somewhere & I’m worried about when I will feel it.

It seems strange that my immediate reaction was relief when the lovely doctor told me. Relief that my clitoris was there (typing that sentence feels like an indignity & a humiliation), relief that I hadn’t been cut in the way that I’d imagined. The type of mu-til-a-tion (argh!) that I suffered is of the most minor variety in female genital mutilation. What a fucking sentence. The most minor type – none of is minor. Child abuse is not minor, in anyway. I posit that any child abuse that involves their genitals is child sex abuse, actually. What kind of adults are interested in the genitals of kids (unless it’s for some medically necessary reason?)? Huh? It is very fucked up. Am so violated. Meh. I can’t imagine how those women who have had more brutal mutilations than me must feel if I’m feeling this bad. I’ve felt the joy of orgasms (even if I can’t at the moment due to headfuck) and I don’t know of a more fulfilling feeling than an orgasm with the someone(s) you love. Imagine not knowing what that felt like? Instead of pleasure, to only feel pain or fear of pain? I can’t. I know I’m being a little orgasm-centred right now, but they’re on my mind, because they’re not in my body.

I’m usually a woman of many words, but I don’t know what to say or what to think. I have been using the word cunt quite a lot for the last couple of weeks. Not as satisfying as it usually feels.

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Sex, Morality and Control.

Sometimes, I wonder whether we are living in enlightened times, or whether that’s one of the big self-delusions our species has created for ourselves. (Inclined to the latter, personally).

There seems to be so much moralising against women, especially & the old double standards are alive and well when it comes to sex.

Our sexualities are nobody’s business but our own. We aren’t here for the gratification & judgement of others, we’re here to live our lives – to seek pleasure & avoid pain – just the same as everyone else.

It seems to be that this judgementality that seems reserved more often for women than men (although also for trans people of any gender) is designed to control what is seen as troublesome behaviour. Anything that doesn’t conform with the rigid heteronormative, monogamous ideas that are wrapped up in supposed ‘decency’, ‘morality’ and the ‘proper’ ways to behave – all of these are arbitrary & imposed.

This, I feels, strips us of our humanity – the ability to think, choose and do what we like. For, as long as our behaviour doesn’t make anyone else suffer, why should it be wrong for us if it feels right for us?

Why should we be judged on who we choose to sleep with, or how many we sleep with, or have slept with, or what we do with our consenting humans? Isn’t this the essence of our humanity? Is it not inhumane to subject others to your ideas of what is ‘right’, when we all know that those ideas were just put there in your heads, probably just to appease others’ insecurities and make them feel good about themselves in a completely oppressive-to-others kind of way?

What makes us human is our ability to think for ourselves & to make our own decisions. I don’t have anything nice to say about those small-minded enough to impose their wills on others. Conforming just for the sake of it & ridiculing/discouraging others who choose not to, is a kind of dictatorship – trying to control others because of your own mental limitations & fears/insecurities. It’s also really boring.

It’s not you, it’s me. Another cliché today.

I think I might have to have the “It’s not you, it’s me” conversation with the person I started sleeping with very recently. I think it would be cruel to do anything else.

On the whole, in the past, when I’ve had this conversation, I’ve just been polite. Mostly, it hasn’t been me, but them.

This time it’s different. It really isn’t him, it really is me. I have no fault with him. He’s lots of lovely things, I’m just not really into him, for reasons I can’t quite fathom. This makes it more difficult.

I hope he doesn’t feel hurt. I feel very sorry/guilty, even though I’m not sure I should. I feel cruel, but I know I’m not.

Sigh.

Todays cliche of the day – Once bitten twice shy.

Once bitten twice shy? Well you’d think so, wouldn’t you?

Having read my last post, you wouldn’t have thought that I’d make the same mistake twice. Yet alone with the same person!

Shouldn’t have slept with him again, really. Have always felt strongly that no sex is infinitely preferable to bad sex and I’ve proved myself twice right.

He stopped halfway through to ask if I was bored (I was, but I’d never be cruel enough to say so). He’s lovely, but there’s an absence of excitement and chemistry & that was reflected by my… unenthusiasm. Poor thing, it isn’t his fault.

Worst thing is I think he’s started to get attached. He’s using “we”, he’s started to talk about stuff he wants to do next month with me, even though I said at the start I was non-committing. He did that gazing at me with big eyes thing first thing in the morning, saying “you’re so lovely”. It’s freaking me out a little!

Ah, I’m a numbnut sometimes. I hope this post acts as an aid memoire, and I don’t find myself posting about twice bitten, thrice shy.

Today’s cliche… Feel The Fear And Do It, Anyway

I like this one.

My friends think am quite a brave/bolshy character. I’m thought of as strong-willed and strong-minded. What they don’t know is that, whilst I might be, I’m crapping myself half the time.

Fear is a wonderful and terrible thing. It’s totally okay to be fearful, to acknowledge it, but the best way to deal with it sometimes is just to press on in spite of it.

So, tonight am going to go to a poly/kink club event thing that I heard about from someone I went on a date with. Now, this whole world is a terrifying and unknown place for me. My life so far (especially with regards to sex & sexuality) has on the whole, tasted mainly of vanilla.

I can be fairly cautious with the unknown, but now that I know what I’m curious in, it’s probably time to jump in at the deep end, instead of just sitting on the fence (mixing my metaphors a little, but you know what I mean).

So, this evening, I will be putting one wobbly foot in front of the other, feeling the fear and doing it, anyway. (Or observing & learning, in any case).

Brave New Worlds

(also, what the hell do I wear?)

DEFINING THE LINES: A SWINGER’S DICTIONARY

Woah, there’s much more to this stuff than I’d anticipated! (Still all a little couple-centric, in my opinion!)

DEFINING THE LINES: A SWINGER’S DICTIONARY.

Also, am not that interested in swinging, really. What does that make me, a near-unicorn?

Me, me, me… and poly…

So, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and as I posted here https://mascarastreaks.wordpress.com/tag/monogamy-2/ I’d like to take a new approach to any relationships I have in the future.

I have a few concerns, it’s a bit of a Brave New World for me (which is equally thrilling & nerve-wracking.

I’ve spoken to a couple of people I know who are in poly relationships. However, all of the people that I know that are in poly/open relationships are all couples who have agreed between them to have other relationships, whatever the agreement is.

Also, a lot of the stuff that I’ve found on the net (not that I’ve spent that much time doing it) and the people I’ve spoke to talk about it from a very couple-centric perspective. I don’t want that, I want it from a me, me, me perspective.

Whereas I am a single woman, and I know what I’d like, which is for ME to be at the apex/centre, retaining control/autonomy of my life and space, rather than being part of a poly/open-relationship couple with other lovers.

It’s all pretty hypothetical at the moment, but it doesn’t stop me thinking about it. Would it make me more or less vulnerable than if I was (i) being monogamous, or (ii) part of a poly couple. What do I need to watch out for?

I’d welcome any thoughts/advice/opinions from anyone with experience or who knows more about this. I know what I want, it’s in my head, but how does it all work in the real world?

 

My beautiful bed is unfulfilled.

I bought my beautiful bed in June 2012. I’ve had friends stay and I’ve had lots of fun in her, but still, she hasn’t been christened yet. Which is a bit diabolical. For all the lovely sex I’ve had, none of it has been in my bed! In fact, none of it has been in this country, which is even more diabolical. My bed & I are a little unfulfilled, but am sure it’ll be worth the wait. Am not a perfectionist for nothing. It’s got to be just right, as beautiful as my bed and me.

I already know who I want it to be, he’s under my skin, he has been for awhile. I’m under his too, I think. Alas, though, it seems Sod’s law is against us for now, and I (& he) will have to wait, until that beautiful moment comes. Till then, my beautiful bed, I’m sorry, you’ll be fulfilled soon.