Body Pride – or, Why I Spent Four Hours Naked With Strangers

A few months ago, I was on a tea date with a friend and she suddenly announced, “I know this girl, and she runs these Body Pride workshops! Everyone gets naked and you sit in a circle and talk about body image and sex and stuff! Do you want to go with me?”

I said sure, but I was thinking, Uh, that sounds kind of terrifying. See, I’m an introvert. A huge one. Maybe it’s not apparent from this blog, but I am. And meeting new people is scary enough as it is, but doing it naked? That seemed a little too far out of my comfort zone.

Fast forward a few months. In the middle of the night, I had a fit of impulsivity, as I often do, and fired off an e-mail to the workshop organizer, Caitlin, asking her to sign me up for an upcoming Body Pride event. In the morning, I asked my friend if she still wanted to do it with me, and she said yes. So it was a plan.

The day finally came. I found the top-secret location that had been texted to me, and nervously punched numbers into the buzzer. “Hey, I’m here for Body Pride?” I said into the speaker, feeling that the tone of my voice didn’t exactly convey the “pride” that would be my goal tonight. I sounded like a little mouse.

Caitlin let me into the beautiful space and I kicked off my shoes and sat down on the floor with the other girls who had arrived so far. The middle of the circle was full of delicious, healthy snacks, and the ladies were chatting about relationships and sex (what else?). Caitlin brought me a glass of wine and I slurped some down for courage. Most of the folks were older than me, or seemed that way, anyway (I sometimes feel like a 15-year-old when I go into shy-girl mode), but I didn’t feel too out of place.

When everyone had arrived, Caitlin and Khadeja passed out forms for us to sign. We had to agree that we wouldn’t sue the workshop organizers if the experience messed us up in any way (I can’t imagine how it could), and we could optionally allow them to use our photos on their website and in their work-in-progress photography book. Yes, there would be a photoshoot at the end of the night. I wasn’t sure whether I was mostly nervous or excited about that part. Somewhere around here, I noticed that my friend hadn’t shown up after all, so it was just me and eight women I’d never met before. Yikes.

Then an announcement was made to the effect of, “Okay, everybody get naked!” and we did. I think my boobs were the first ones to come out, because I’d purposely worn minimal clothing to make it easier to disrobe. And, to my amazement, I didn’t feel the least bit ashamed or embarrassed. Everyone else was taking off their clothes, too. And then we were all sitting in a circle, completely naked, like it was the most normal thing in the world (because it kind of is).

The organizers passed out “muff mats,” little hand-towels for us to sit our pussies on, because women have bodies and those bodies sometimes excrete stuff that probably doesn’t belong on a stranger’s floor. Not in a shamey way, just in a practical way, you understand.

While everyone sipped their drinks and passed back the last of their signed forms, Caitlin explained where the idea for Body Pride had come from. She told us the story of her revelation that bodies weren’t something to be ashamed of, or even to be “just okay” with – that they should be loved, embraced, celebrated. And so she’d decided to take photos of herself naked and post them on the internet (indeed, one of the bravest and most scarily permanent decisions a young woman can make in this day and age). She’d then gotten an e-mail from a friend asking if there were going to be “happy naked girl parties” to further this agenda, and a lightbulb went off in Caitlin’s head. And so Body Pride was born.

The workshop was run in an around-the-circle way, with each woman speaking on the topic at hand when it was her turn. First we talked about why we’d decided to attend; answers ranged from “It just sounded like fun” to “I need to become more comfortable with my naked body” to “I just broke up with my boyfriend and this seemed like a good thing to do afterward.” Even though we all had different specific reasons, it seemed that our intentions were ultimately the same: to be with other naked women in a non-sexual but personally and sexually affirming way.

We talked about our childhood experiences with sexuality and masturbation, our parents’ influences, our present-day body image, sexual debuts, relationship regrets, wishes for the future, threesomes, and porn. We covered many topics, thoroughly and respectfully. Every woman’s words were listened to and absorbed. The discussion was structured but still participant-led. Caitlin sort of sat back and let us talk about what we wanted to talk about, only intervening occasionally if we needed to be steered a little.

By the end of our hours-long talk, most of us were pretty drunk, and nudity felt completely natural and normal. Caitlin and Khadeja moved over to the white backdrop that was already pinned up on one wall, and set up a tripod, camera, and large studio light. Someone put on some sexy, groovy, cheesy music from the ‘90s (I definitely remember there was Sir Mix-A-Lot and the Spice Girls) that got us into a dancing mood. And one by one, we each took our turn in front of the camera, shaking our booties, flaunting our bodies, loving our beauty. I felt like a drunker version of Bettie Page. I felt powerful and gorgeous and luminescent.

When we weren’t posing, we signed the Body Pride guestbook, talked about ex-boyfriends, and had more to drink. These women, who I’d only met a few hours before, I felt like I understood. I saw that their motivations and histories were not so different from mine, even though some of them had had over 300 sexual partners and I’ve only had two. We were all united in the common pursuit of sexual freedom and radical self-love.

Finally, it was time to go. I put my clothes back on, which felt weird. I stumbled out drunkenly into the street and said goodbye to everyone. Then I went home and had a bagel and pondered the nature of female sexuality.

Interested in attending a Body Pride workshop? Do you live in the Toronto area or can you get there? Then keep an eye on Caitlin’s website for future events!

Review: Fun Factory Rainbow Amor

During a recent trip to New York, I went to Babeland in the hopes of buying a Hitachi Magic Wand. Tragically, they were sold out (don’t worry, I ended up getting one eventually), so I bought the next toy to catch my eye: the Babeland-exclusive rainbow version of the Fun Factory Amor. I’m glad I did; it’s no Hitachi, but it’s a sweet little dildo.

The Amor is a harness-compatible toy that’s fairly short and squat, with 5" of insertable length and a diameter of just under 1 ½". It’s supposed to be a good tool for G-spotting, though I was initially skeptical of its abilities because its curve is subtle and its head is barely pronounced. It’s made of 100% silicone that’s fairly firm but has some give.

So how does the Amor measure up to the similar Tantus Acute, one of my favorite G-spotters? Amor has less curve and a less defined head, but it’s also thicker and slightly firmer. To my surprise, it hits my G-spot with ease – and because it’s got a decent girth to it, I don’t have to angle it weirdly like I do with the Acute. The sensation isn’t quite as intense as it is with my Acute, which I think is owed to the Amor’s barely-prominent head, but I don’t always want an extreme, knee-weakening amount of G-spot stimulation. Sometimes just having it rubbed is enough and a full-blown attack isn’t necessary.

The Amor’s shaft is totally smooth and almost straight once you get past the head, so my vag sometimes wishes for a bit more stimulation in the first couple inches. This is a dildo for when I want to give my G-spot some lovin’ but don’t really care about my vaginal walls. Same deal with my A-spot – the Amor’s too short to reach it, so I’ll have to be in a pretty specific mood to crave this one.

While the Amor isn’t the kind of dildo that leaves my legs trembling and my pussy utterly satiated, it’s cute-looking and it does a good enough job. And it’ll make a killer addition to my Pride outfit next year.

Sharing the Sexy #6

• Fascinating stuff on Sexxit: do guys with bigger penises enjoy sex more? (Answer: not really.)

• The son of one of famed sex research team Masters and Johnson was arrested for exposing himself. You just know that conservatives are going to use this guy as an example of why sex-positivity is eeevil.

• Conscious Cunt shares holistic strategies for avoiding yeast infections. As someone who has recently come off of antibiotics and has therefore felt the need to eat a lot of yogurt and take probiotic pills: I feel ya, gurl.

• Naomi Wolf’s got a new book about vaginas coming out. This article discusses the taboo-ness of vaginas in this day and age.

• Would you buy a straw that can detect date rape drugs?

• Buck Angel has opened a dating website for trans men and their admirers. I don’t know how to feel about this.

• Tips for beginners: how to call a phone sex line!

• Being sexually harassed? Here’s what to do about it.

• Since I know you’re all as obsessed with sex toys as I am, here’s some infographics on the subject.

• A woman is in trouble for injecting silicone into a man’s penis to increase its size. What?!

(Trigger warning: rape, bestiality.) Have you been following the sad story of “ConcernedDad1965” and his dog-sodomizing son? Here’s the list of threads if you need to catch up. And here’s the latest update, which is looking slightly more optimistic, at least for Colby the dog.

Review: Sqweel 2

I have been excited about the Sqweel for a long, long time. Ever since it won a Lovehoney design competition years ago and they began marketing it as the first real oral sex simulator, I knew I had to have it. Sex toy obsession, meet my cunnilingus obsession.

Of course, I doubted it would really feel like oral sex. Especially since my boyfriend is a fucking cunnilingus master. He has studied my body and my responses and has honed his technique to the point where receiving oral is practically a spiritual experience for me. He always gives me a lot of variety while he’s teasing me up the hill toward my orgasm, but then he also knows exactly what methodical rhythm and circular motion I need in order to come. He’s a vagina genius – a vagenius, if you will. So how could a toy possibly compare with that?

It doesn’t. No toy will ever be as good as being tended to by a skilled and caring lover. But the Sqweel 2 is still worth getting if you like oral.

You might recall seeing the original Sqweel around the blogosphere a few years back. It was a simple design – a matte black disc-shaped case which snapped open to reveal ten flapping tongues on a three-speed rotating wheel. The second incarnation of the Sqweel has the same premise and mechanism, but it’s been updated: it has a stronger motor (apparently), a glossier case, a reverse function, and a “flicker” mode. Nifty.

My first warning about using the Sqweel: have lube on hand. Lots of it. If you’re not prepared to use a lot of lube every time you use this toy, then don’t even bother. Who likes getting slapped by dry, draggy tongues? Not me. Not you, either, I’m guessing.

Second warning: this toy will never work for you if you like pressure. It slows down rather pathetically when any significant amount of pressure is applied. I think the Sqweel could be a potential solution for women who find themselves too dependent on pressure and vibration to get off, as it might be able to help them ease their way out of “female death grip syndrome” – but if you need pressure and have no desire to change that, the Sqweel will not be your cup of tea.

And a few more warnings before we get to the good stuff: the Sqweel is loud and thus not very discreet, it takes three AAA batteries, and it’s not waterproof, as much as I’d love it to be.

Because I had heard so many mixed reviews of the Sqweel, I assumed I’d dislike it. And at first, I did. I lubed up my clit, held the toy to it, and turned it on – and it felt sort of blah. Ten silicone tongues flapping against my sensitive bits? So what?

But when I gave it time to do its thing, it built me up slowly to an orgasm that ended up being big and intense and shuddering, similar to the orgasms I experience from actual oral sex.

I picked up a couple of the alternative silicone wheels sold for the Sqweel, called Sqweelers. They’re for those of us who don’t like the standard “tongues” insert, or just want some variety. One of them is called the Wave, and it has little tiny tongues in the middle and two thin flaps, one on each side. This one looks weird when it’s not in use, but when it’s lubed and spinning on my clit, it actually feels like someone’s sucking me. Do you realize how amazing that is?!

The other Sqweeler I bought is called the Pearl. It has nubs on either side and a series of larger nubs or bumps in the middle. In use, this one feels like longer, firmer licks, the kind someone gives you when they’re trying to make you beg. And on the higher speeds, it feels like fast firm licks – perfect for sending me over the edge.

I find the original tongues insert is great for teasing and build-up, and so is the Wave insert. I can get off with all three of them easily, but the Pearl brings the most satisfying orgasms because it seems to apply the most pressure to my clit. The other two inserts just give up and keep on flappin’ when my clit is most in need of pressure, but the Pearl feels perfect while I’m coming.

The Sqweel’s three speeds are generally sufficient. There are times when I wish there was a fourth speed, but keep in mind: this toy doesn’t vibrate, so it’s not going to numb you out. I find that this lack of numbness means I’ll always be able to come eventually, even if I have to hang out on the highest speed for quite a while. (And honestly, that’s the way my body works when I’m receiving real oral sex, too, so whatever.)

So does the Sqweel 2 serve as a suitable replacement for an orally gifted partner? Hell naw, nothing does. But it’s still a wonderfully unique toy that gets me off and feels fantastic. I find myself actively craving it pretty often these days, which I have to assume is a good sign.

Thanks so much to Sex Toys Canada for hooking me up with this great toy!

5 Sexual Rules That Should Be Common Sense But Sadly Aren’t

1. Masturbate. This just makes sense. People who practice biking on their free time will do better in bike races, for example. I read so many stories on Sexxit about women (yes, it’s almost always women) who have trouble reaching orgasm during sex – or worse yet, have never reached an orgasm in their lives – and somehow don’t see their refusal to masturbate as the source of this problem. Folks, if you don’t jerk off on a regular basis, you don’t get to complain about your shitty sexual response.

2. Communicate. Anyone who’s ever read a sex blog, listened to a sex podcast, seen a sex TV show, or had good sex probably knows this rule. Sex tends to suck if you don’t talk about it. Doesn’t matter what you love or hate in bed, you need to tell your partner that information, or they can’t do a damn thing about it.

3. Bodies are inherently valid. This phrase is credited to the late, great Mark Aguhar. She was probably referring to the validity of bodies in a larger sense (body image, body politics, body dysphoria) but it applies to the way we should approach sex, too. Never make the mistake of thinking you don’t deserve pleasure just because you’re chubby, or “ugly,” or differently abled, or in transition. Your body is inherently valid and that means you deserve sex, good sex. We all have insecurities, many of which get dredged up in sexual situations, but that doesn’t mean we have to give those worries any credence.

4. Enthusiastic consent matters. I don’t just mean the big consent issues, the ones that center around rape. I also mean the smaller ways in which our culture dismisses the need for consent. People who don’t like to hug or shake hands are often branded “weird”; people who are uncomfortable with sensual and sexual touching get called “prudes”; the list goes on. Even within seemingly healthy relationships, there are plenty of expectations – for example, a woman who receives oral sex from a willing partner may feel obligated to give him a blowjob in return, even if she’s emotionally unequipped to do so on that night. The point is: check in with your partner, make sure they’re really okay with what’s happening, and be aware of the signals that might indicate when they’re not.

5. We get to choose how we identify. I’ve written about this before, because it’s important. No one can tell you what to call yourself or what you should be feeling. You can be a gay guy and still have sex with women if you want to. You can be a “femme in the streets, butch in the sheets.” You can identify as profoundly kinky and still have vanilla sex if that’s what you feel like doing. The acts you perform do not define you unless you want them to.

What are your sexual rules, principles, tenets, and values?