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Do I Want Kids? Part 2: Birth & Bodies

Kate Sloan

I’ve had the nightmare dozens of times: I’m in a fluorescently-lit room at the hospital, legs in stirrups, and everyone is yelling at me. Doctors, nurses, my assumed co-parent (though, better get a paternity test, girl, ’cause let’s hope your baby isn’t faceless and amorphic like this dude is). They all want me to PUSH, but what they don’t understand is that I am trying! My muscles barely obey me, and I slump and cry and try to do what I am told. And then, inevitably, I wake up – before I even get to see my baby.

What this recurrent dream shows me is that I’m terrified of giving birth. I think it’s hard not to feel this way if you have a vagina and a uterus, and maybe even if you don’t. The process is depicted in the media as one of the most physically painful experiences you’ll ever endure: I’ve seen soon-to-be-mothers in movies and TV shows screaming at their husbands, weeping in agony, praying for relief from gods they barely believe in. The pain scares me, yes, but in almost equal measure, I’m scared of who that pain could make me become.

There’s also the horror stories you hear about birth’s effect on the body. Parts can rip and swell and puncture and pop. You can pass out, bleed out, or shit yourself on the birthing bed. Having been relatively healthy for most of my life, I haven’t seen my body stretched to its extremes – and I’m not sure I want to. Why can cis fathers confirm their biological parenthood with a simple home paternity test while I have to endure hours of body- and soul-transforming labor to be eligible for mine?

It doesn’t help that my mom has told me all my life about how painful it was to give birth to me, since her epidural didn’t kick in quite right. But then, she does also say that giving birth to my little brother was comparatively painless, so maybe medical advances will be such by the time I’m pushin’ out a baby that I won’t have to break my brain with pain.

On the plus side, I am well accustomed to processing pain. Being a submissive masochist, I’ve written articles and done interviews on cognitive strategies for dealing with pain, and I struggle with chronic pain on a regular basis – so I’m better equipped than the average person for handling an excruciating situation.

I’ve also long been curious about vaginal fisting as a potential birth training activity during pregnancy, ever since I heard it discussed on some sex podcast long ago. Equivalent to the perineal massage recommended by many obstetricians, but a whole lot more intense, fisting could be a worthwhile practice for helping vaginal muscles learn to relax, stretch, and open up. Assuming the person fisting me would also be present at the birth (which may not be a fair assumption, what with my polyamorous sluttiness, but let’s pretend), they could even use similar communication strategies on The Big Day as they used in our fist-heavy “practice sessions” to guide me through the sensations. I am a big advocate for the idea that practicing difficult tasks makes them easier, and since you can’t exactly practice giving birth before it actually happens, fisting might be the next best thing.

The birth process seems less scary when I think of it that way: as an intense series of sensations, a rigorous task I’m putting my body through, not unlike a kink scene or a sexual feat. And if it seems weird to you to compare “the miracle of life” to a sex act, I would invite you to read Your Child’s Right to Sex, watch Orgasmic Birth, and remember that babies mostly occur because of sex!

Speaking of orgasmic birth… I am definitely the type of person to bring a Magic Wand vibrator to the hospital on that fateful day, assuming I had enough presence of mind to remember it at the time. (Let’s face it, that might be a job for my dutiful co-parent, whoever they may be.) Hey, if huge things are gonna be moving through my vagina, I want some clitoral vibrations to at least soften the blow! Sex educator Susie Bright famously used her wand to lessen discomfort during the birth of her first child. “I had no thought of climaxing,” she wrote in a 2006 blog post, “but the pleasure of the rhythm on my clit was like sweet icing on top of the deep, thick contractions in my womb.”

So, do I want to give birth? Part of me remains aghast at the thought. But another, bigger part of me is curious – curious how my pain tolerance would hold up, curious about what those “deep, thick contractions” feel like, curious about the extent to which pleasure can mitigate that level of pain. Pregnancy and birth are two magical things my body can (presumably) do that I haven’t yet experienced, and I’m always curious about bodily states I have yet to achieve. Maybe one day I’ll be swearing and sweating in a delivery room, cursing the day I ever claimed to want this – but if common accounts of the post-birth experience are true, the memory of that pain will soon melt away in favor of oxytocin bliss, endorphin nirvana, and the joy of meeting the new little person I’ve just brought into the world.

 

Thanks to TestMeDNA for sponsoring this series! Browse their website for answers to big questions like “What does a paternity test cost?” and “What the hell is a buccal swab?”

Do I Want Kids? Part 1: Mental Health

Kate Sloan

Am I too crazy to have kids?

This question haunts me. I’m embarrassed at how often it flits through my head. When I get sucked down into the whirlpool of depression or anxiety, those moods pose a question which only serves to perpetuate them: Are you too fucked-up to ever get the things you want? And of course, in the throes of sadness and fear, “yes” is the only answer I can fathom.

There are times when my mental health is so bad that I can barely take care of myself – food, sleep, hygiene – so it’s scary to imagine trying to take care of someone else at those times. How can you be responsible for another human being if you’re crying too hard to get up off the floor, or if the world beyond your bed feels too scary to contemplate?

I’ve heard many a horror story from people whose parents raised them in a maelstrom of mental illness. Children of the severely depressed can be neglected; children of the deeply anxious can absorb compulsive fears; children of people with personality disorders can grow up hurt and confused, unable to truly trust anyone. Of course, these stories aren’t universal, and I probably know just as many people whose parents struggled with mental illness and who nonetheless turned out fine, but it’s hard to tune out these narratives when you’re scared they could come true for you.

I’d like to think my co-parent would be a relatively sane, grounded person, to help balance me out. (As much as I admire folks who raise kids solo, that doesn’t seem emotionally or financially tenable for me.) But then you risk creating an off-kilter family dynamic where one person is over-relied upon to prop up everyone else, psychologically and logistically, and that’s not fair at all. Maybe this is an area where polyamory could be an advantage: a solid support network of de facto other parents could take some pressure off. They do say it takes a village to raise a child, after all. The results of a legal paternity test can tell you a lot, but they’re not the whole picture, and a parent or guardian obviously doesn’t have to be genetically or legally related to a kid to assist in raising that kid.

Even supposing that I could overcome my own craziness enough to take care of a child – and/or rely on the help of other, steadier humans – I would still worry about transmitting that craziness to my kid. Some varieties of DNA test can predict whether a person might develop certain mental illnesses, but even if I went the adoption route, I’d still be concerned my negative thought patterns and tendency to overreact to emotional stimuli would get passed on to my little one through sheer osmosis. I would have to be careful and deliberate in the ways I chose to behave around them, and the values and habits I let them pick up – though I suppose that’s true for any parent. You probably want to clean up your act around someone you’re raising, to some extent, whether by quitting smoking or cutting back on profane language or, yes, consciously dialling back your “crazy” behaviors if you can. Hell, doing this might even help me feel less crazy, too.

That said, I don’t think it’s all bad for a mentally ill person to raise a child. Hell, both my parents struggle with depression and anxiety, and if anything, it just made them more empathetic when I started to notice my own psychological symptoms. I’ve also learned about cognitive-behavioral therapy and dialectical behavior therapy while getting treated for my mental illnesses, and these are useful frameworks for anyone seeking to moderate and process their feelings. I could teach these systems to my kid(s), and maybe then they would have an easier time with childhood’s classically outsized emotions, like sadness, rage, and restlessness. Increased emotional literacy is one of the major silver linings I’ve found in my struggles with depression and anxiety, so I may as well try to impart it on my spawn.

It’s also worth noting that depression and anxiety don’t necessarily preclude you from being loving and supportive; you may just show your love and support in different ways than a neurotypical person, depending on how your symptoms manifest. I can still be there for loved ones when I’m having a rough time. It definitely looks different than my emotional support does when I’m feeling better – there’s fewer words of wisdom and more sitting in silence and solidarity – but it’s still a form of love. As the brilliant Carly Boyce pointed out in a suicide intervention workshop of hers that I attended, sometimes a person in distress doesn’t need you to pull them out of that distress – they just need you to keep them company until the feeling passes. As someone well-versed in distress, I could certainly do that for my kid.

So, am I too crazy to have kids? I don’t know. I don’t think it’s off the table entirely. I think, in order to feel comfortable taking that step, I would first have to feel stable in my medication regimen, brush up on my CBT and DBT skills, and have a relatively settled, dependable social support structure. But once those things were in place, I might just become a hyper-empathetic – if chronically frazzled – mom.

 

This 3-part series on parenthood was generously sponsored by the folks at TestMeDNA.com. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

It’s a Wand Vibe Throwdown!

Kate Sloan

Recently SuporAdultProduct.com reached out asking me to review some toys for them, and I noticed that they had a super robust wand vibrators section. I haven’t seen this many wands in one place since the last Harry Potter movie! Here are some mini-reviews of the 3 rechargeable wands they sent me…

“The Original Rechargeable Magic Wand Vibrator“ (a.k.a. “the pink one”)

Pros:

  • Most importantly: the vibrations are pretty good. Strong, relatively rumbly, everything I want.
  • It has 6 steady speeds – more than most wands of this size. Well, it actually has 3 different steady-speed modes, each of which has both a high and a low setting. (Sound complicated? Yeah, I’ll get to that when I list the cons…)
  • It’s a truly electric, Pepto Bismol shade of pink. Delightful.
  • It has a bendy neck, which I’m told some people care about.
  • At $28.99, it’s much cheaper than I would generally expect for a vibe this big and strong.

Cons:

  • As you can probably infer, it’s an obvious knockoff of the official, Japanese-made Magic Wands we know and love.
  • As such, it feels light and insubstantial – not at all the hefty luxury item that a real Magic Wand Rechargeable feels like to me. The ABS plastic casing feels like it could fall apart at any moment.
  • While the website claims the toy’s head is made of silicone, to me it looks, feels, and smells more like whatever cheap foamy substance made up the heads of original Magic Wands (read: probably porous).
  • The controls aren’t exactly intuitive. There’s a power button, a speed-change button, and a button for cycling through several patterns. Some of the patterns’ speeds can be changed, some can’t.
  • This wand is as loud as the original Magic Wand, which is to say, loud.

“Bodywand Plug In Multi Function Massager Black“ (a.k.a. “the black one”)

Pros:

  • The vibrations of this one, too, are strong and rumbly – though they do get slightly buzzier as you increase the speed.
  • It has a stellar eight speeds, and several patterns.
  • I like how its ABS plastic body feels in my hand: substantial and smooth, sort of like the original Doxy.
  • Also like the Doxy, it has a subtly curved/tapered body which makes it comfortable to hold, and feels sexy to the touch.

Cons:

  • Once again, I’ve gotta say, this appears to be a knockoff. I doubt Bodywand made this.
  • The head – which may or may not be made of silicone – picks up lint, dirt, and hair constantly, so I need to carefully rinse it off a lot.
  • The seam on said head is slim and thus tough to clean.
  • The shape of the head is too broad and round to suit my tastes; I prefer something with an angular edge I can use to focus the vibrations onto my clit in a more pinpoint way.
  • Most annoyingly: this wand, for no apparent reason, starts at its highest speed when you first turn it on. You have to press the speed button seven times to get down to the lowest setting if that’s where you want to start, and then it starts building back up again.

“Pipedream USB-Rechargeable Silicone Mini Body Massager“ (a.k.a. “the purple one”)

Pros:

  • Most amazingly, you can use EITHER END of this toy. It has one button which controls the motor in the head, and one which controls the motor in the shaft/handle. (You can’t have both on at once, but you wouldn’t really ever need to.)
  • Both motors are impressively strong and rumbly (though the head’s motor is rumblier).
  • Each end has 3 steady speeds and a bunch of patterns.
  • The toy appears to be covered in a body-safe silicone casing.
  • I love the petite size of this wand.
  • It’s got a fair amount of flexibility and squishiness to it, especially in the shaft/handle, setting it apart from most traditional wands.

Cons:

  • I’m sensing a theme: this is definitely a knockoff. Pipedream did not make this.
  • The controls aren’t intuitive. Several times, when I thought I was turning the vibrator off, its buttons just lit up in inscrutable rainbow colors and didn’t shut off until I pressed more buttons.
  • The toy feels somewhat poorly constructed: I can feel mechanical pieces sliding around a little underneath the silicone outer casing, and some of the buttons on the casing don’t quite line up with the places you actually need to press to get the toy to do anything.
  • The vibe occasionally overheats during use, to a worrying degree.
  • The floral texture all over the toy would be a bitch to clean.

Overall: the purple one is my fave. It’s somehow the rumbliest of the bunch, despite being the smallest, and I love the dual motors. I was surprised by how much I liked these vibes, given that they’re all under $40 and somewhat sketchy!

 

Thanks to SuporAdultProduct.com for sending me these toys and sponsoring this post. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Why is Having a Sugar Daddy So Hot?

Kate Sloan

Regular readers of this site will recall that I am a former sugar baby. A handsome, charming man paid me in bimonthly instalments for the pleasure of my sparkling company. (That makes it sound more wholesome than it was. There was also phone sex. And devious sexting.)

I had a lot of Thoughts ‘n’ Feelings at the time about money fetishism, “financial domination,” sugar dating, and how it all fits together. I think a lot of sugar babies who seek their daddies on sites like Happymatches probably just think of these interactions as jobs of a sort – and they’re not wrong to do so; sugar dating is often considered a form of sex work. But seeing as I’m a kink nerd, I found myself delving deeper into the psychology of these transactions, seeking to understand why I felt a thrill of titillation whenever a beefy sum landed in my bank account after a late-night telephone tryst.

After thinking about it a lot, here are some of the factors I’ve come to identify in sugar dating’s hotness quotient…

When you have money, you can relax.

Emily Nagoski writes in her book Come As You Are about how stress puts a damper on sexual arousal. Not only are you mentally distracted when you’re stressed out – you’re actually physiologically less able to get turned on.

Nagoski differentiates between the sexual “brakes” and their counterpart, the sexual “accelerator.” If you’re a naturally libidinous person, having the pressure taken off your brakes can kick your accelerator into high gear. So, if stressing about money has been a regular part of your life and then suddenly isn’t anymore, it could affect your sexual desire levels in positive and surprising ways. That’s certainly what happened to me!

With more money also came more free time – some of which I spent on activities that made me feel beautiful, pampered, and sensually stimulated, like taking myself out for fancy meals, lying around getting high, and – yes – masturbating. All of this can kickstart your libido if it’s been stagnant!

Money is power.

This is the thinking upon which all “findom” play is predicated. In the typical dynamic, a male submissive showers a female dominant in cash, because the cash is the metaphor they have both chosen for their consensual power exchange.

Of course, money’s not just a metaphor: it makes you powerful in the real world, too. And for many people, feeling powerful – capable, strong, unfuckwithable – can boost their sex drive.

Interestingly, I was a submissive in my dynamic, as is relatively common in sugar relationships. My sugar daddy found power in his ability to take care of me by handling my expenses and treating me to things I wanted. But there is lots of power to be found in submission, when it’s something you want and have chosen. When someone else puts me in this role I love so much, I feel respected, seen, and understood – and those are definitely powerful feelings.

Payment is evidence of your desirability.

It’s not the only evidence, certainly. But it’s pretty hard to deny that someone finds you attractive if they are literally paying you for the privilege of spending time with you.

Despite knowing on a logical level that many people think I’m cute, I often find it difficult to believe. I have to look for evidence, cognitive-behavioral therapy-style, that I am indeed hot – and even then, I rarely quite believe it. The exchange of money was almost like a shortcut to understanding my own hotness, though. It just seemed so concrete and real to me; there was no way for me to rationalize it away. Clearly this man wanted me; otherwise he would not have gone to the trouble of seeking me out and lavishing cash on me.

With money, you can make yourself look – and feel – hotter.

Last but not least, when you’re cashed up, you can do things like get waxed, get your hair done, buy makeup, and update your wardrobe. These things may seem small, but they can affect your sexual self-confidence and thereby your libido.

In a perfect world, we would all be able to conjure confidence from within ourselves, without having to rely on external factors or extrinsic validation – but until that perfect world comes into being, I’ll take the opportunity to look hot on someone else’s dime if they’re offering. Why the hell not?

 

Have you ever been in a sugar-dating dynamic? Did you find it hot? What appealed to you about it?

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

You’re Someone’s Favorite Flavor

Kate Sloan
Eating cinnamon/coconut gelato in Malta

While I’m a strong proponent of the fact that we’re all different and have unique perspectives and experiences, the subjectivity of attraction has always been hard for me to wrap my mind around. I’ve told countless friends and readers who felt unattractive, “There are people out there who would be so into you; you just have to find them!” but it’s often been tough for me to believe that about myself.

On free adult dating sites and apps, it can seem like we’re being reduced to how we look – and this can be discouraging for those of us who feel like our appearance is subpar in some way. I’ve thought of myself for so long as someone whose Tinder bio you have to read to truly understand my charm. This self-perception was so ingrained, I didn’t even believe my partner when he recently told me he thought I was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, the first time he laid eyes on me.

So it seemed like a good time to revisit a lesson I often impart on friends and readers when they just can’t comprehend or accept their own attractiveness. I call it “the ice cream metaphor,” and it goes like this:

Imagine you go out for ice cream with a friend. “I’m gonna get my favorite flavor,” they announce excitedly, rubbing their hands together.

“What flavor is that?” you ask.

And then they name a flavor you find absolutely vile. Cotton candy, butter pecan, rum raisin, whatever it may be… A flavor you can’t imagine anyone eats, let alone enjoys.

But you look at their big grin, and the spring in their step as they march up to the counter at the ice cream parlor, and the expression of total bliss on their face when their tongue first touches their treat. And you realize then that while you don’t agree with them that it’s a good flavor, you believe them when they say it’s their favorite.

This is how attraction works, too. You don’t have to agree with everyone who thinks you’re hot. In fact, when they compliment you, you may feel a full-body reaction of doubt and dismissal, because what you see when you look in the mirror certainly doesn’t register as “hot” to you. But you should still do your best to say “Thank you” and to believe what they’re saying. Their perceptions and tastes are different from yours. This happens in every area where humans can have preferences, from ice cream to music to, yes, people. Suspend your disbelief and allow yourself to accept that you are hot to somebody, even if you’re not hot to you.

You may be a flavor you personally wouldn’t eat if there was no other ice cream left on earth, but there are people who could lick you all day long and still want more. Know what I’m sayin’?

You’re someone’s favorite flavor. Don’t forget it.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.