Lifestyle

After infiltrating an event at the pole dance school, I decided that the only way to really understand the phenomenon was to engage in it. I have studied various dance forms my entire life and have performed professionally as well.  Over the last 5 years I have dedicated myself mostly to Middle Eastern belly dance. Belly dance is another form of dance that women have reported feeling self-esteem, body image and sensuality benefits from - I figured if I could shimmy on my toes and writhe on by back in a dance studio and on stage I could handle a pole dance class.

I signed up for an intro class. The intro class is basically an orientation that includes a full class. Since I have had a lot of experiences taking dance classes I figured the whole thing would be very familiar territory only with different movements. I was wrong.

According to new research, children raised by lesbians are more aspirational than those with opposite-sex parents.  The suggestion is that same-sex couples make better parents because children cannot be conceived accidentally - parents must make an active decision to adopt or find a sperm donor.  

I say beware of research conclusions that favor one gendered group over another. There exists too much within and between group variability to help us really understand human experience. This holds true regarding comparisons between gay/lesbian parenting and heterosexual parenting.

Don’t we all love orgasms? I know I do. And so do these two beautiful women – Carlin Ross and Betty Dodson.What's so interesting is that the orgasms they describe are unlike those I experience. For good reasons, I'm sure. First, I'm rarely active after I have an orgasm. I suppose I'm like a man in this way; my body turns into ice cream in the sun. For example, rattled with stressful thoughts and anxious questions about my professional future, I was unable to go to sleep last night. Even my darling cats submersed in blissful slumber couldn't influence me to relax. What I had forgotten is that I recharged my batteries just that morning. I retrieved my batteries, stuffed them into my vibrator, and got to work!

I finally sat down and watched my pussy in action for I finally sat down and watched my pussy in action for

1) My clitoris is HUGE (Sorry, that's not a real lesson).

2) Our pussies can benchpress one serious barbell......Not just any barbell... Betty Dodson's barbell!!!

I knew Ellen Willis back in the day when we were feminists together. This trailer is for a book written by her daughter who went on a road trip across the country interviewing young women about their lives and what feminism means to them.  I look forward to reading Girl Drive:

Girldrive trailer! from Girldrive on Vimeo.

I love my labia.  And I renewed my love for my labia yesterday during an oral sex session.  For the most part, it's always a race to the vagina....a race to the clitoris and sometimes we forget just how sexually sensitive our labia are and how much pleasure they bring us as women.  They're so soft and tender to the touch.  They fold and undulate between our legs carrying with them lubricating juices.  I love the way they feel when I part them and run my finger past their smooth center and into my vaginal opening.  I love to feel them plump up with pleasure...pulling open...ready to receive whatever I may slide past them.

I could not wait to get my pole dance project under way. This is truly an understudied environment and I'm all about being the pioneer! I began a month long conversation with the studio manager at the New York City location about if and how the school would want to be involved in my project. It was during much phone tag with my contact at the school that I discovered they were having a Halloween party for their students. I decided this was a perfect opportunity for observation of the students at this school and a full on sub-cultural experience.  After I put out a few more unreturned phone calls in order to get on the guest list for the event I did what any intrepid investigator would do, I went ahead and crashed the party.

Inspired by the Guardian's coverage of Chella Quint, a menstruation activist (yes, that's her in the pic and that's not red lipstick it's menstrual blood), I decided to ask our female bloggers to answer this question,  "what does your period mean to you?" 

As a young girl, I was terrified by first period stories.  You know the period lore - the accounts of the girls who got their period in school unprepared with either blood running down their legs or blood soaking through their panties and their jeans to the jeers of their classmates.  I was so thankful when I got my period the morning before school right after my shower.  Somehow I had been spared the indignity that a simple panty liner could have eliminated. 

What My Period Means to Me:

I have one towel. It's tattered but beautiful. It's almost as heavy as a thick slab or rubber; but I need it to be that way. It wears a shade of orange so perfect that it magically exudes a comfort and sexual energy I cannot ignore. I lie it down on my bed. I take off my panties. I pull out my soiled tampon (or, ideally, menstrual cup) and toss it in a small trash can. Then, I go to bed.

The next morning, my thighs are decorated in blood. My towel wears my femininity proudly, soulfully deep red blotches appear next to browned ones that (after many a wash) still fight to remain present.

Before my husband, I mostly met men for relationships and such over the Internet. In fact, I discussed my first explicit encounters in one of my posts. And, I hadn't realized until after I wrote that piece how much of an impact my computer (and most other mobile devices) has had on my sex life!

An article I read the other day addressed my concerns. Social networking sites and personal ads work hand-in-hand, making it so simple to contact a person, get their information, and meet them somewhere for erotic pleasure or otherwise.

I totally mean it.

As a girl on the go, I have very little patience for immaturity. And very little patience for the unimaginative and uninspiring lackeys of this city! I need a man with style... a man with a can-do attitude and a chin that can slice through a tin can. I want a man who swallows martini like water.

I want Duck Phillips.