Yoni Coloring Book Giveaway

CLICK HERE to enter a chance to win my newly released Yoni Coloring Book!

Want to buy one? Maybe have a get-together with your lady friends and celebrate with goddessy vulva pride? They are only $8.99 – go HERE – where I can show you mine.

Great idea for bridal showers, baby showers, Mother’s Day, a night with your goddessy friends, some time to just relax and binge on Netflix while you color something soothing and lovely.

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Snuggle Puppies

I found this short article to be quite interesting.  I’d love to read more on the subject of “petting parties” of the 1920s.

One thing I noticed was the mention of how young women are pretty much the ones people were trying to stop from going to the parties.  I suppose it’s not totally illogical, since if there aren’t girls then there’s no party.  But it’s the attitude about the girls that seems to put the onus on girls to uphold all the morals. You know, the girls “allow” liberties.  It’s too bad that the usefulness of this kind of sexual and social experimentation wasn’t seen as a gateway to healthy sexual behavior.  I could see how parents might worry things would get out of hand.  But instead of teaching sexual information, girls were maligned as the gatekeepers and therefore somehow the troublemakers and conduits to misbehaving.  It seems later was twisted into an idea that if you wanted to open the gates, you were not a good person.

There is one thing that’s for certain – I think girls are often the ones being told to watch out for their chastity because they are the ones who can become pregnant.  And ultimately, they are the ones who can be abandoned in a crisis pregnancy.  Men can walk away.  They can imagine themselves as innocent if they can convince themselves that she was with anybody else.  It’s as though this one simple fact of biology has made all kinds of strange, teetering, oddly shaped social constructs around sexual behavior.

Very interesting topic.  Also – I still use the word “spooning” but we definitely need to bring back “twosing.”

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Leting Go – Mostly

Inheritance

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Philyra rests next to the books on the table, where she isn’t supposed to be.

I’m a divorced woman who spent a majority of her 20 year relationship with her ex-husband at home with her children.  When my marriage came to an end I felt vulnerable, financially.  I felt broken, emotionally.  This is a story told over and over again by women.  It’s nothing new or shocking, even if some of the details are. It’s a story of betrayal and low self-esteem.  Of things happening I wished I could change, but later was glad they didn’t.  It’s nothing thousands of women don’t go through each year, some to a greater and lesser extent.  That fact used to make me feel like a stupid statistic.  Like I’d fallen into a foreseeable trap by my own foolishness.  I see it differently now.  Instead, I feel a part of something as though that shared pain brings me closer to a sisterhood.  It means I’m not alone.

I’ve always been a feminist and an advocate for women, in part because I have daughters and in part because of my own history as a victim of various types of abuses.  And despite feeling close to all women sometimes, at other times I feel the distance, too.  Yet, I’m not always aware of it when I’m feeling disconnected.  Probably because I can be introverted in long stretches.  I think I was feeling inside my own bubble when I picked up two books in a row that re-focused my feeling of being connected to women out there in the world.  Not just the ones alive today, but all those who have ever lived.  I feel my place in the universe, one planet among galaxies of women.  With my own gravity.  With my own landscape of barren deserts and rich ecosystems green with life and beauty.  I have my own orbit and satellites in orbit around me, as well.

It started off with checking out The Red Tent by Anita Diamant from the library on my Kindle.  You can read my Good Reads review of The Red Tent HERE.  By the time I finished that, I was lucky enough that Wild by Cheryl Strayed had become available to check out.  You can read my Good Reads review of Wild HERE.

Just a couple of days after I finished Wild I decided to order it and The Red Tent as gifts for my daughters.  Paper versions.  Objects they can hold in their hands and feel the paper under their fingertips as they flip each page.  A sort of prayer that connects them to all the things that make them sisters, not just with each other, but all other women.  And probably a memory years from now when I’m gone, of what has gone before them and what they want to do to affect what comes after them.  To remind them of their connection to this world.  And also, that they don’t need to fall apart when I die.

This is the most valuable inheritance I have for them.  I lay in bed last night imaging the letters I would write to my daughters to accompany these gifts.  Should I share valuable (to me) bits of advice?  Should I apologize for my shortcomings as a mother?  I composed until I fell asleep and woke up to sunbeams on the bed with my cat laying next to me.  And I thought about Dinah in Egypt and her first experiences with cats.  Coincidentally, my cat, Kali, is Egyptian and from a long line of sacred females, as well.

Kali the Abyssinian napping in the sunbeams on my bed.

Kali the Abyssinian napping in the sunbeams on my bed.