titillating tidbits
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Friday, February 20, 2009
Ooooh, Baby!
So I am just about six months pregnant now. I have a garage full of baby toys on loan from a friend. The Mister and I received our first baby-related gifts over the holidays. I have hired a midwife and a doula. I am just starting to think about what they call a "birth plan." Do I want my labor documented by a camera, moving or still? What music will I have playing in the background? At what point, if at all, should we go to the hospital? I don't know the answers to any of these questions yet, but I have decided who I want to come during my labor: Me.Early in my pregnancy, I decided that I wanted my birth experience to be as natural as possible. I was born at home, and I decided to plan to have my daughter at home as well. In preparation for this, I figured it would be a good idea to fill my head with images of natural, gentle births to make up for all the Hollywood depictions I have been cramming into my head for the last thirty-some-odd-years. During that research I was introduced to the concept of orgasmic birth, and while I haven't yet seen the movie of the same name (Netfilx is being a big tease), I am inspired to aim for a pleasurable birthing experience. What's that saying about aiming for the stars -- even if you fall short you'll fall on the moon? Maybe this is just me with my head placed firmly in the clouds, but the view is great.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
My Deflatable Penis*
The Adult Entertainment Expo (AEE) is held every January in Las Vegas. It is an opportunity for adult film and novelty makers to get together and share their wares with various distributors and everyone who wants to sell it, from mom and pop porn shops to the major players like Babeland. There is one giant room devoted to film and digital media. All of the major porn studios are represented with blaring and moaning video screens, and some booths proudly display graphic video games and even interactive toys that work with media. A second room houses any and all manner of sex toys. Various vendors and distributors have got you covered from butt plugs to nipple clamps. While there are a few industry-only days, the joint really starts jumping when fans are admitted to gawk and collect autographs from scantily-clad porn stars (and anyone else they might suspect of being a pornstar; someone requested a photo with my ass last year).
This year was the third year that I attended AEE. I still remember the first year I went. I was so excited. Wide-eyed and dumbstruck I stared at countless graphic sexual images. I think I saw more at that show than I had seen my whole life up until that point. I left the show proudly wearing my I *heart* Vagina pin and glowing with a new sense of ownership about my sexuality. Truth be told, I may not have ever started this blog had I not discovered AEE.
Last year I went for the second time, and I actually got up the nerve to talk to people. Still wide-eyed, I earnestly asked atendees questions about how they got into the industry and what their mothers thought about it and whether banks would give them loans to fund their less-than-vanilla projects and products. Actually talking to people made the show even more fascinating. I left not only with a new perspective but an armload of exciting new products that I went home to "test" and "review."
This year I eagerly awaited my trip to Vegas and AEE. My friends, accustomed the glee and toys I had come to share upon my return from previous shows, were just as excited about my visit. Sadly, I left Las Vegas on Sunday after the show feeling a little deflated. Don't get me wrong, there are some fabulous people involved with AEE, and I fully enjoyed spending time with Team OhMiBod and sex educator, Jamye Waxman, among others, but when it comes to the show itself, I suppose novelties can only be novel for so long. When you've smirked with appreciation for Not the Bradys XXX, how exciting is This Ain't the Munsters XXX? It is basically the same thing repackaged. And how many variations of the famed Rabbit Habbit does the world need?
Let me clarify -- I am all about capitalism, and I am a huge fan of innovation. I just found myself bored with seeing the same products and movies repackaged and reworked. There were a few novel things, and I will take the time to share some reviews over the next few days, but overall, there was not much novel about the novelties and not much new about the new releases. While I certainly enjoyed catching up with old friends and making new ones, I left the show feeling like I'd lost my mojo. This feeling is best described by the image above: beautiful, half-naked women squeezed the life out of my formerly firm porn show erection. Ah well, I suppose there are worse ways to lose a boner.
*Remember that song from the early nineties, "Detachable Penis"?
Labels: pornography, rant, review, toys
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
All Knocked Up and No Place to Go
Knocked-up. Preggers. Bun in the oven. The rabbit died. With child. In a family way. Yep, it's all true. I think "knocked-up" is my favorite, and I have been using it ever since I started telling people about my pregnancy a month or two ago.
I waited-out the first three months of my maternal state without telling anyone other than The Mister (who I had been trying to tell even before I got pregnant) and my sister (who I knew would notice my changed drinking habits and make a deal of it unless I gave her a heads up beforehand). It was brutal. There I was, excited to be a mom and share my news with anyone and everyone, and I chose to keep my mouth shut. Honestly, after hearing horror stories of women practically embarking on national ad campaigns to announce their pregnancies only to have to undo it after miscarrying within the first trimester, I am glad I did what I did. But those three months were kinda miserable.
On the one hand it was wonderfully fun to have a secret that just The Mister and me were in on, but I felt like I was lying to everyone else in my life. This was compounded by the fact that I had terrible symptoms that I could not explain without spilling my baby beans. My face broke out like Mount Vesuvius and my ass, not to be outdone by the bumpy beacon of my face decided (with the help of ice cream and candy corn) to stretch past the bounds of hot "baby got back" plumpness to "is she carrying a baby in her butt?" hugeness. I got downright fat. And not in a cute "Oh, look at me! I am a celebrity with chicken legs and a nice round baby bump" kinda way. All over fat from my pudgy acne strewn face to my body's own personal attempt at cankles. Needless to say, all of this left me feeling pretty un-sexy.
I spent a good part of the first trimester of my pregnancy as a recluse. I was embarrassed by my changing appearance, and I doubted I could keep from blurting out my news, if not out of sheer excitement, then in defense of my bumpy-faced, lumpy-assed self. I went to the gym and the supermarket, but found myself avoiding social time with my friends. I stayed home and slept a lot.
Now that I am just over four months into this whole procreation experiment, I am trying to find the sexy in pregnancy. I have friends who gush about how their libido went through the roof while they were "brimming with child." These same friends and others claim that they loved having big, round pregnant bodies. I decided I would be happier if I at least aimed for this instead of spending the whole nine months mourning the loss of my washboard abs. I've been reading all kinds of books about how a mother's mental state during pregnancy can impact her child for the rest of his or her life. I don't want my offspring to obsess about the size of her* ass or constantly be concerned about how others might view her; I've spent the last thirty or so years doing enough of that crap for both of us.
The four month mark has been a turning point for me. As I started to tell people about my pregnancy, my hormones decided to even out thus evening out the texture of my formerly bumpy face. I am still fat, but my boobs are pretty amazing (for me anyway). I have never had boobs to speak of, or a belly for that matter, and I am enjoying stroking both. Much to my satisfaction and delight, my "huge" boobs are busting out of my A cups. Just as I have dreamed of since grade school, my cups runneth over -- wishes really do come true! What a waste it would be to fail to enjoy my temporarily engorged breasts. I better make the most of this cleavage while it lasts; I can't imagine my offspring wanting to breastfeed well beyond puberty. And a belly? I must give myself credit for having had a fairly flat stomach for most of my adult life. It has always been one of my favorite body parts. I am at a point now where I can no longer suck it in. It still sticks out, even when I lie on my back. I better enjoy that, too, because come June it's hello sit-ups and goodbye bump.
Pregnancy, like most things, is temporary. I am inspired to relish every moment that I have left. Hello tight shirt and push-up bra. Hello bellybutton poking out from beneath that tight shirt. I am knocked-up, and I am going places.
*Yesterday's ultrasound showed that my womb is, in fact, inhabited by a healthy and active baby girl.
Labels: body image, boobs, rant
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Happy, happy, merry, merry!
Happy Capitalism Day to you!Friday, November 14, 2008
Unveiled Threats
I heard a story on the news last week that, I am now slightly embarrassed to say, made me smirk. According to the BBC, fifteen young women (teachers and students) were attacked on their way to school in Kandahar, Afghanistan. As yet unidentified men rode by on motorbikes and sprayed the women with battery acid. The part that brought a sick smile to my face was that some of the young women were protected from more severe acid burns because they were almost fully covered by their Islamic burkas. I found it ironic that a violent crime that was likely sparked by religious fundamentalism was thwarted (at least slightly) by that same fundamentalism.
I thought I would read more about Afghanistan and get the details of the attack and the general mood in the country so I could more fully make my charmingly ironic point. And then I actually read about Afghanistan. I have been aware that things are not right there. I listen to the news occasionally, and I have read a paper or two. I suppose I had allowed myself ignorance about the extent and severity of the oppression of women in that country.
Burkas are, supposedly, no longer mandated by law, but a woman might find herself beaten for choosing not to wear one in public. Schools are now open to both boys and girls, but the acid attack last week wasn’t the first of its kind, and I am sad to say that I doubt it will be the last. Women are routinely gang-raped by militants and then beaten and/or shunned by their families for the shame they have brought to bear as victims of violent sexual crime.
After reading all of this, I was left without much inspiration to play up the irony. Instead, I feel a bit sick to my stomach, and thankful that my face sees the sunlight on a regular basis and that I can marry and divorce as I see fit and seek an education and work how and where I choose.
At the same time, I am inspired by the hope and fortitude of the women making their way in this dangerous environment. They still want to go to school. They dream of being doctors. They dream of better lives. I can only look to them with awe and admiration. So much for irony. For the moment I am compelled to earnestly marinate in thankfulness for the life I am able to lead and the joy I experience on a daily basis.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Fukuoku to You, Too
I am not big on manual stimulation. By this I mean two things. First, when self-pleasuring I prefer to have the aid of some sort of tool or another, and second, I am not really into my hand as the tool. Ever since childhood, when I have wanted to "feel good" I have been more apt to rub up against something than to use my fingers and stick it to myself.
Recently I decided it might not be a bad idea to "let my fingers do the walking" and take a more "digital" approach to pleasure. I have enjoyed the added intimacy of feeling myself with my fingers. It has helped me to better learn my own unique anatomy from texture to location to size. With this new frontier at hand, I thought it might be fun to give myself a hand and try a toy that provided a little buzz while keeping the focus on the fingers. The Fukuoku 9000 was just the toy for the job.
The Fukuoku, powered by two watch batteries, fits neatly over a finger and provides a pretty mean buzz for something smaller than many a lipstick. It comes with three washable textured silicone sleeves and a handy-dandy carrying case that even boasts a belt loop. Innovative.
What I like about the Fukuoku
This little vibe is tiny. It is really a take anywhere toy that won't cause TSA to bat an eyelash. I also imagine that the Fukuoku is a great gateway toy. It is nonthreatening and, in no way, screams (or even mentions) sex. In fact, its campy brochure proclaims the wonders of using it to cure headaches and soothe tired feet (it says nothing about those sore feet and aching heads being anywhere near a vagina). Also, at about $30 it is not here to scare us off with designer sex toy pricing.
What I question about the Fukuoku
I read a number of reviews about the Fukuoku that complained about battery life. While I haven't buzzed mine into oblivion yet, I know the little watch batteries it uses can be pricey. Thankfully, the manufacturers do package it with a spare set. Additionally, I have to admit that while my fingers might be bulkier than some, I was surprised at how snugly the little Fukuoku fit me. After a few minutes, my finger was clearly retaining more blood than those around it. Again, I don't think I have man hands or anything, and I wonder how man hands would feel in this little device, despite its spring loaded adjustable-ness.
My Experience with the Fukuoku
I have to admit that I have been putting off trying this toy out for a few months. As I mentioned, I am not really into the finger thing, and I also enjoy penetration. When I finally pulled the Fukuoku out, it surprised me. First off, it is pretty darn loud for a little guy. Although, thankfully, its buzzing sound is muted significantly once pressed against flesh. The device fit neatly over my finger, and I found the on/off switch easy to manipulate with my thumb (watch out, Lefties; this may not work so well for you). The single speed vibration felt good on my body. I have to admit that I think it would take me many hours and batteries to actually reach climax with this device alone. As some reviewers recommend, it might be more fun with a friend and/or an insertion vibe as well.
For now, the Fukuoku 9000 delivers what its brochure offers, " Relaxation Massage Therapy..." I enjoyed the soft, warm buzz of the Fukuoku on my clit, I just can't imagine it taking me over the edge. That's alright. Some times all I need is a little "Relaxation Massage Therapy."
Fukuoku to you, too, at Babeland.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Some Bunny Loves Me
It was not the now infamous Sex and the City episode featuring the Rabbit Pearl vibrator that caused me to run out and buy one. In fact, I didn’t see that episode until years after I was the proud owner of my very own Rabbit.
I would, perhaps, still be bunny-less today if it were not for the creative shopping habits of The Mister. As I have mentioned here before, I did not own, nor use, a vibrator until my late twenties. One fine Capitalism Day in 2002, The Mister decided to give me the gift of things that go bump in the night. Wrapped with the utmost care in my pile of loot were both the Hello Kitty vibe (a hard plastic vibe that looks more like a children’s toy than a sex toy) and my very first Rabbit Pearl. I must admit I was a bit overwhelmed by the gifts at first. I felt a little like a cat owner; I knew the dead bird laid lovingly on my doorstep by my proud feline meant he loved me above all others, I just wasn’t sure what to do with it.
Years passed before I actually put my toys to use. While I admit that Hello Kitty never received a warm greeting from my “kitty,” The Rabbit Pearl quickly became my favorite sex toy, and like Charlotte on Sex in the City, I risked becoming its eternal victim. I loved my first bunny so much that he died in a haze of smoke that resulted (I think) from the motor overheating. I am serious. I killed the freakin’ rabbit with my vagina. Now that's love.
I did get a replacement Rabbit Pearl, but since reading about phthalates and the harm they can cause, I have been forcing my bunny to wear a condom, and I have been less than thrilled about using him at all; should I put a second condom on his cute little ears?
Enter Babeland with a fine solution to all my rabbit woes. Babeland is now selling a 100% elastomer version of the Rabbit Habit. What this means is that it is made of some sort of fancy rubber and completely free of latex and phthalates. This makes me feel safer overall and glad that Vibratex (the manufacturer) had the good sense to listen to consumers and change their formula.
I just played with my new Rabbit Habit for the first time, and I am not disappointed. First off, I know it is cheesy, and perhaps even juvenile, but I really appreciate the purple glitter body of the bunny. I feel it is appropriately visually stimulating for the task at hand. I prefer it to the pink of my old Rabbit Pearl. Another improvement of the Rabbit habit over the Rabbit Pearl is that the controls and battery case are located within the vibe instead of on a separate attached remote (is it still a remote if it’s attached?). This allows for one-handed use. I enjoyed having a hand free to roam where it pleased (me).
There are several other differences between the Rabbit Pearl and the new Rabbit Habit. First off, the shape of the Rabbit Habit is slightly different than that of the Rabbit Pearl. Most significantly, it is larger. I didn’t really notice the increased size until I was done playing with it and went to pull it out of my body. It didn’t cause pain or anything, but it was a noticeable feeling. If you are very petite, I might recommend a smaller duel-action (meaning clitoral and internal stimulation) vibe like the Rosebud.
Also changed is the rotation of the pearls in the shaft. They move more evenly in the Rabbit Habit. I can appreciate this because one of my earlier bunnies had pearls that got stuck and stopped rotating all together. Lastly, the new material of the Rabbit Habit allows the ears to flop about quite a bit more than they ever did on my old bunnies. I appreciated the added movement, but I think I got clit-slapped by my new bunny’s ears at one point. I didn’t mind. Slap me, Bunny, slap me. You dirty little rabbit!
Overall, I think the Rabbit Habit is a great addition to anyone’s toy collection, and a fabulous first time vibe. I have read many a tale of first time orgasms being achieved through the help of the Bunny. The added benefit of both clitoral and internal vibration (each with separate speed control) make this vibe extra versatile. In fact, because both the shaft and the bunny have separate controls, you can choose to use one or both and at varying speeds. I love the uniquely Japanese design which may make this vibe less intimidating to first time vibrator users. The shaft is made to look like the body of a woman. The “head” is actually her hair neatly parted in the middle. A demure pearl necklace and earrings accentuate her cute little smile. Only the Japanese. The Rabbit Habit is a classic, one of Babeland's All-Stars, actually. If you are going to buzz, this is the way to go.
Get your very own some Bunny to love at Babeland.
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