I want to talk to you about my uterus.. We're allowed to talk about the diarrhea we suffer from, the gas causing an endless stream of farts strong enough to propel one around the house. I can whine about my heart, my agita, my head, my sex life. Activities performed by the vagina are OK too. We can talk about sex, vaginal infections but no one ever really talks about the what happens to the vagina as we age. When I was wee I bled like a lamb sliced for slaughter. My very first period had me over the toilet vomiting for my own death. Making it worse was the fact that I was wee eons before the invention of a sanitary napkin held nicely in place by a sticky strip. Tampons were around, but if you were Catholic (like me), or of some other like mind, you were forbidden to use tampons because their were perceived as possibly leaving your hymen no longer intact or giving you ideas about all the other things you might want to put in your vagina. They were little penises in some people...
mostly gentle, sometimes turbulent