Personal

Can Butt Plugs Cure Constipation?

Kate Sloan

Am I getting a reputation for being that chick who blogs about pooping? And a follow-up question: do I care?

This past week, three whole days went by without me evacuating my chute, if you know what I’m sayin’. That has never happened to me before. I was very worried.

I’ve been eating fewer calories lately to lose weight (that’ll be a whole ‘nother post, sometime in the murky future) and the other day I ate FIVE LARGE CARROTS because I am a lunatic. That’s probably what caused it.

I tried everything I could think of – short of regular ol’ laxatives, because I wanted to reserve those for a true emergency. I drank a fuckton of water to lubricate the pipes. I took an herbal psyllium husk supplement and waited 12+ hours. I walked around and jumped up and down. I ate more fiber, more fats. Nothin’.

Then I had a brilliant idea. There have been times in the past when I’ve inserted a butt plug, only to need to take it out again a few minutes later on account of sudden-onset bathroom requirements. This was always annoying before, but maybe now it would be a solution.

I poured a couple drops of Pink silicone-based lube on my medium Njoy Pure Plug and slipped it inside. I chose the Pure Plug because it’s heavy, so my butt would really be able to feel it and maybe it could wake up my intestines. (Man, I am so not a doctor.) I was prepared to switch out the medium plug for the larger version after a few minutes if necessary… but it wasn’t necessary.

After about 5-10 minutes of rhythmic clenching, hopin’ and prayin’, I heard angels singing hallelujah as my intestines started to do their thing. And then I went into the bathroom, took out the plug, and all became well with the world.

My theory on why this worked, which is backed by no medical knowledge whatsoever, is that the plug stimulated peristalsis. My butt was like, “Hey! There’s something in here! We better clear it out!” and other stuff was cleared out in the process too. Kind of sort of makes sense, right?

Mr. Will, another sex blogger, presented an alternate explanation: perhaps the lube was a factor. Indeed, the lube I used contains aloe vera, which some people use as a suppository when constipated. Soooo… yeah. That probably makes more medical sense than my theory.

Do you ever use sex toys to deal with your medical problems? (You probably shouldn’t. I’m not a doctor, I’m not responsible for the choices you make, you should always check with a medical professional, etc. You know the drill!)

Two-Year Blogiversary!

Kate Sloan

That’s right, Girly Juice is two years old today!

With that in mind, here are 10 things I’ve learned from the past two years of sex blogging:

1. “I have a sex toy blog” is a great conversation starter. Whether or not you can tell from reading what I write here, I’m pretty shy in real life. I tend to be that person who hangs out in the corner, smiling and nodding, until someone asks me a question. And if the question is “What do you do?” or “What are you up to?” then I always have a great (and sometimes show-stopping) response…

2. Sex toys do lose their appeal… eventually. Well, some of them. I’m no longer impressed by run-of-the-mill vibrators, standard dildos, or “innovative” gimmicks. A toy has to actually feel good and work well to get my attention – which means, unfortunately, that many things I receive these days just don’t thrill me. I often get asked if sex toys start to “get old” when you’ve tried dozens of them, and the answer is: the mediocre ones do.

3. Materials matter. I used to have a somewhat laissez-faire attitude about materials – I knew to avoid jelly at all costs, but I assumed everything else must be at least passably safe. Well, I was wrong. I’ve learned that porous toys can give me infections, and that phthalates can be present even in toys that claim to be phthalate-free. I grow less and less trusting of mega-sized toy companies by the day, because they seem to lie about their toys’ materials so damn often. My vagina is healthier and happier now that I stick to non-porous, legitimately phthalate-free toys.

4. Rumbly vibrations rule. When I first started reviewing toys, I was kind of unimpressed with vibrators, because the only ones I’d tried had been buzzy as fuck, always making me numb within minutes and leading to disappointing and difficult orgasms. The first super-rumbly vibe I discovered was the Wahl (thanks to Epiphora, whose recommendations are always stellar), and it changed my life. Suddenly, orgasms were easy. And not only that, but they actually felt better. Since then, I’ve discovered my favorite rumbly vibes, the We-Vibe Tango and Salsa, and I use them on a near-daily basis because they’re just that fantastic. This is the kind of success story I wish on anyone who pursues greater pleasure through sex toys.

5. Strap-ons aren’t just for lesbians or pegging… Men can use them on women too. I should probably write a whole post on this topic, and maybe I will. My boyfriend, ever the mature and sexually giving hero of my life, has happily strapped on various dildos over his flesh-and-blood dick to add some variety to our sex life from time to time. If I’m in the mood for something huge, something tiny, or something with a more intense texture than a natural penis can provide, I can get it. Of course, my boyfriend’s penis isn’t neglected – he just knows it’s not the only tool in his toolbox, and I think that’s wonderful!

6. Everyone wants to review sex toys, but most people don’t know (or don’t want to know) what it actually entails. As I discussed in my sex toy reviewer FAQ, playing with toys is actually a pretty minimal part of what goes into making a blog like this happen. I spend most of my work hours writing, editing, answering e-mails, managing ads, and generating endless links. I’m not saying it’s not fun (hell, I love writing!), but I think it’s pretty different from what most people are envisioning when they excitedly ask me, “How can I get into your line of work?!”

7. The sex-positive community has fewer creepers than you would think. While I complain about deceptive fetishists and other people of that ilk, 90% of those encounters have happened to me in non-sexual sectors of the internet. When I talk openly about sex in a way that’s smart and thoughtful, I find I tend to attract mostly people who want to talk about sex in similarly smart and thoughtful ways. It helps that the sex-positive community is all about consent and tends to shun people who lack respect and decency. There will always be those weirdos who silently favorite all the tweets where I mention masturbating, but those people are greatly outweighed by folks who are genuine, kind, and only sexualize me with my explicit consent.

8. My vagina is capable of more than I thought. Toward the beginning of my sex blogging career, a 1.5"-diameter bulb tripped me up. Nowadays, I can handle pretty big dildos if I warm up and lube up properly. I’m not quite a vaginal superhero, but I can do more than I thought I’d ever be able to do. (And hey, I’m going to a fisting workshop next week – that’s something to aspire to!)

9. It’s my blog; I make the rules. I went into this loosely modeling myself after sex bloggers I admired: people who wrote erotica, people who reviewed sex toys, or people who wrote clever how-to posts. Over time, I’ve grown to realize that I don’t have to stick to what’s already been done. I can write tirades about oppressive language, I can wax poetic about gender identity, I can give advice I wish someone had given me. There are no hard rules. When it’s your space, you can do what you want – and often, sticking to the truest part of yourself is what will attract more readers, reblogs, and retweets!

10. If you want something, take steps toward getting it. Sounds obvious, maybe, but 3+ years ago I never knew there was a way I could acquire sex toys that were out of my modest student price range and have a significant platform from which to speak my mind about sexuality. I also idolized people like Tristan Taormino, Epiphora, and Courtney Trouble, never anticipating that I would ever have Twitter exchanges with them or review stuff for them. If there’s someone you want to know, reach out to them. If there’s something you want to do, start – today. If you want to make something, get the materials together and begin. You never know what could happen!

Thanks for reading my blog, lovelies! What’s your favorite post from my past two years? What type of post would you like to see more of in the future here?

Breath and Energy Orgasms: Initial Attempt

Kate Sloan

A few weeks ago, I went to my local sex shop Come As You Are for a porn pyjama party (which is a story for another blog post, I guess!), and at the end of the night, they offered us a 10% discount on anything we wanted to buy from the store, as a way of thanking us for coming to the event and giving feedback on the porn they screened.

I perused the whole store before deciding I didn’t really need any more sex toys, but might want a book instead. Barbara Carrellas’ book Urban Tantra caught my eye because I’d previously read another book of hers. I bought it and have been reading one chapter each night before I go to bed.

Ms. Carrellas (long-term partner of trans icon Kate Bornstein, if you’re wondering) writes about sacred sex in a way that’s candid and easy to follow. She doesn’t bog down her readers with too many Sanskrit words or advanced yogic concepts, and she makes sure to explain in laymen’s terms any potentially unfamiliar ideas, like the seven chakras. Instead, she gives relatively concrete explanations of how to do things like breathe more deeply, raise your sexual energy levels, and even have what she calls a “breath and energy orgasm.”

I’m a skeptic about a lot of sacred sex stuff. I don’t know why. I’m a somewhat spiritual person, and obviously I love sex – but for some reason, I often find it difficult (physically and mentally) to combine those two ideas. Maybe it’s lingering anti-sex religious shame, or maybe just a lack of practice.

Last night, I got to the chapter in the book about breath and energy orgasms, one of the things that Barbara Carrellas is most known for. I read the whole chapter and then decided to give it a shot.

You should read the book for a more detailed explanation, but basically the technique involves “breathing into” certain chakras (energetic points on the body), starting at the lowest one (the perineum) and gradually working up the body until you get to the highest chakra (the top of the head). You’re supposed to do this while lying on your back, rocking your hips, and remaining constantly conscious of your breathing – kind of like an active meditation.

I’ll tell you right now that I didn’t have an orgasm, or anything resembling one. That doesn’t surprise me – it was my first attempt. But amazingly enough, I did get turned on – legitimately and tangibly so, with wetness and swelling and so on – and I did feel somewhat blissed out when I was done. It wasn’t like a post-orgasmic high; more like a post-yoga mellow. Except I was also sexually aroused.

This morning I woke up with a terrible headache. It feels almost like a hangover or some sinus tightness, except that it’s localized right on my sixth chakra (the “third eye” in between the eyebrows). In the book, Barbara mentions a few times that chakras can get blocked with “emotional gunk” and that this sometimes results in pain or discomfort localized to that spot, especially when you’ve been deliberately trying to move energy between chakras. I don’t know if that’s what happened to me, but that’s what it feels like. I guess my next step is to do some research on the sixth chakra and figure out what thoughts or feelings could be stopping it up.

I’m still having a lot of creeping skeptical thoughts about sacred sex, but I’m trying to keep an open mind. Part of being sex-positive, the way I understand it and live it, is being a perpetual explorer and student of all things sexual (all things that appeal to you, anyway).

What are your experiences with sacred sexuality? Have you ever had a breath and energy orgasm? Or any kind of metaphysical experience during sex or masturbation?

No-Shave November Made Me Think About Femininity

Kate Sloan

I did No-Shave November this year. Not to raise money for anything (although I did contribute some dough to a family member’s Movember collection, in awe of his new beard). I just wanted to give it a shot.

I’ve been a pretty consistently clean-shaven lass ever since puberty. Ever the precocious child (and an early bloomer, hormones-wise), I wanted to know what shaving was like, so I started shaving the hair on my legs and pelvic mound almost immediately after it first came in. I have a vivid memory of my mom spotting my shaved mons in the bath (so I must’ve still been young enough that my mom was bathing me?!) and her saying disapprovingly, “That’s something adult ladies do.” But still, I continued to shave.

Like every girl, I was ushered into a world of brainwashed, media-hyped, sweet-and-sanitized femininity. There were no hairy-lady role models in my life, sexy or otherwise. As I grew into adolescence, the girls at my school became increasingly mean and judgmental, as middle-school girls are wont to do, and I never dared deviate from any norm for fear of social ostracization (which, sadly, happened anyway).

Throughout my first sexual relationship, I kept my pubes and pits shaved. My partner went through a phase where she was desperately curious to know what it would be like to go down on a bushy twat, but I would not grant her that favor. I found pubes insufferably itchy and they also noticeably cut down on my sexual sensitivity.

My second (and current) partner was surprised the first time he put his hand in my panties, having never encountered a hairless lady-garden before. This, in turn, surprised me when he told me later. I had thought of shaved pussies as the norm until then, perhaps due to the porn I sometimes watched.

These days, I’m hanging out in a lot of queer and feminist spaces, as usual, and these are the sort of environments where body hair is accepted and sometimes even encouraged. But even still, I tuck my legs under me to hide their stubble; I keep my cardigan buttoned so no one will see my fuzzy pits. Though I purposely fill my head with hairy-lady inspiration (Amanda Palmer and Sadie Lune, for example), I still feel… well, dysphoria isn’t quite the right word, but perhaps what I feel is a very mild form of it.

And the trouble is, I don’t know whether my feelings are media-influenced or whether my particular brand of girly/femme-y gender identity just doesn’t mesh with body hair. How can anyone ever know whether their feelings are culturally induced or personally valid or both?

During No-Shave November, I also grew out my bush, though I kept my labia shaved because they really do itch horribly when I let ‘em run wild. My partner has no qualms about any body hair configuration I choose – he always finds nice things to say about my body, no matter how much fur it has amassed or is missing – so that didn’t influence my decision. I grew out the longest bush I’ve ever had and spent a lot of time combing it with my fingers, marveling at how weird and unusual it felt in the context of my own body.

Ultimately, on December 2nd, after snapping the photos used in this post in my bathroom mirror, I shaved my pits. And then, earlier this week, I attacked my bush with scissors and then a razor. The smoothness feels odd after all this hairiness but it’s also reassuring; I feel more like me again. I don’t feel more attractive; I just feel less weird.

What’s your relationship to body hair?

Where I Keep My Sex Toys

Kate Sloan

I’ve written about my sex toy storage situation before, but that was over a year ago and a lot has changed. My collection has grown significantly bigger, to the point that I had to pick up an additional small set of drawers at Ikea to keep it all in.

I will warn you right now that these pictures are MESSY. I have no discipline for neatness! But at least the system is functional: I can always find what I’m looking for.

This is the top drawer of my plastic set of drawers. It contains favorites that I reach for often: my Patchy Paul, Lelo Siri, VixSkin Mustang, NobEssence Fling, Pure Wand, Acute, and a few others. The Sqweel is in there, not because I use it a ton, but because when I’m craving it, I want it immediately.

This next drawer is chaotic as hell. It contains all my Kegel toys and anal toys, plus lube samples, bullet vibes, and a huge amount of toy-cleaning wipes left over from the days when I used to receive stuff from an unethical sex shop that shall not be named.

Some of the few toys you can actually see in this photo: the Magic Banana, small Ripple, Eclipse balls, and Icicles no. 26. You’ll notice that most of the silicone ones are wrapped in plastic bags – that’s to prevent them from gathering lint.

The next drawer is a large one, so I use it for one of the most well-represented categories in my sex toy collection: silicone dildos. On top, you can see the Maverick, Curve, Raquel, Leoweenie, and El Diablo. There are several more layers of dildos beneath those.

Again, I mostly keep these wrapped in plastic bags to prevent lint from getting all over them (and to keep the lower-quality ones from potentially melting into each other). I keep some of my VixSkin toys in their original plastic tubes, because they’re kind of cool, but it’s not the most practical solution because of how much space it takes up.

The bottom drawer of my plastic set isn’t pictured, because it’s currently jammed and won’t open up all the way (?), but incase you were wondering, it contains condoms, porn DVDs, and some naked Instax photos of my friends and I.

Over to the metal set of drawers. The top one is for vibrators I don’t use very often, if at all. You can see the Stronic Eins (which should probably be upgraded to my “favorites” drawer, honestly), LayaSpot, Personal Pleasurizer, Ocean, Turbo Glider, and Iconic Rabbit. There are also lots of Lelo vibes in there that are in their storage bags, like the Gigi, Gigi 2, and Lyla 2.

The next drawer is for dildos made of unusual (i.e. non-silicone) materials. For example, I’ve got the glass Amethyst and Large Smiley, some wood toys by Knotty Wood Arts, the aluminum Revolve, the ceramic Pleasure, and the stainless steel Fun Wand. These are all toys that I don’t use very often, but it’s nice to pull them out every once in a while.

The next drawer is supposed to be for harnesses and anything else I might need for strap-on play. In this photo, all that’s in there is my RodeoH harness and the paraphernalia that came with it, but soon I’ll be keeping my new Bend Over Beginner kit in there too. (I also have a dream that one day I will own an Aslan Jaguar, but for now, no such luck!)

This drawer is for men’s toys (and a random We-Vibe charger?), the Fleshlight STU and VerSpanken. My boyfriend recently moved into a new living situation that’s got more privacy and storage space than where he used to live, so he’ll probably take these to his own place soon… Well, he’ll take the Fleshlight, anyway. I’m pretty sure he wishes I would just throw the VerSpanken in the garbage.

This drawer currently contains only my enema. I’m not sure yet what else should go in here. Any ideas? Leave ‘em in the comments!

The bottom drawer is reserved for massager-style vibes. You can see my antique 1960s vibrator as well as my Bodywand, Fairy Mini Wand, and Lelo Smart Wand. I also have a Hitachi, Wahl, and Eroscillator, but those are kept next to my bed.

Other things I keep next to my bed at all times: several different kinds of lube and whatever toy(s) I am currently testing for review. Above my bed, on a curtain rod, all my paddles are hanging.

How do you store your sex toys? Are they organized, or are they kind of all over the place? Do you have any suggestions for how I can improve or change my system?