Today I have author Ashley Rae, whose memoir, Not My Mother, is not a romance, but whose experiences and guest post, make her fit right in here on Jenna’s Journal.
The Incredible Vagina
At 333 pounds, I had a painless 5 hour labor and birthed my 9 pound baby at home.
That was enough to convince me that vaginas are amazing creatures.
Then I learned that the female body gives us three physical signs that let us know where we are in our cycles and when we’re ovulating. THREE. You’d think we’d have learned about this stuff in school, right? It’s called the Fertility Awareness Method, and I never would have learned about it if I hadn’t already given birth and joined a mommy group where I was exposed to the book, “Taking Charge of Your Fertility.”
But what really pissed me off was when I learned about women’s anatomy of arousal. Apparently, a woman’s pleasure has nothing to do with producing babies, and therefore we don’t need to learn about all the pleasure organs in school. Stupid Republican biology textbook writers.
That’s when I created The Incredible Vagina – a workshop in which I inform both men and women about all three of these topics. And since this is a guest post for a blog that reviews romance and erotica, I figured y’all would like to hear more about this anatomy of arousal business.
First fun fact: The clitoris is not just a nub. The nub is actually the “head” of a much larger pleasure organ. The clitoris has two long legs that run along either side of the vagina, like a big fleshy wish bone, with a short “neck” connecting the big wishbone to the little head.
Fun fact number two: Females have as much or more erectile tissue as men, most of it internal. We have two bulb-shaped organs on either side of the vagina that swell, pressing the clitoral legs into the sides of the vagina while also making it feel tighter for our partner’s…pinkies.
Fantastic news number three: We don’t have a g-spot. We have a g-TUBE. The entire urethra is covered by erectile tissue that gives us pleasure when we are fully aroused.
Fun fact number four: We have three levels of arousal, and penetration only feels truly pleasurable when we are fully aroused.
Want to learn more about the Incredible Vagina? Check out the handout I distribute when I teach the workshop here: http://myspirithealer.wordpress.com/pleasure-fertility-birth/
And if you’re in the mood for a memoir full of humor and drama, by all means, read mine! Not My Mother: A Memoir by Ashley Rae
Blurb for Not My Mother: A Memoir:
By the age of twelve, Ashley Rae had survived incest, child abuse, and the deaths of both her biological parents. Born to Baptists but raised by Buddhists, Rae found peace and healing on a Pagan spiritual path while obtaining her college degree and starting the career of her dreams.Rae thought the hardships in her life were over…until she lost her job, started a new relationship, and found out she was pregnant with another man’s child all in the same week. Terrified of cesarean surgery, Rae vowed to give birth to her child at home – but first, she had to find one. Alternately haunting, humorous, and heart-warming, Not My Mother: A Memoir follows Rae over a nine-month quest to break her family’s generational pattern of abuse and victimhood in order to become for her unborn child the mother she had always wanted for herself.
Excerpt for Not My Mother: A Memoir:
From the moment Dad rushed us through the dark living room, too quickly for me
to see her body, I’d been looking for my mother. Even after her funeral in Virginia, I kept looking for my mother. She came to me in my dreams and told me it had all been a mistake, and she wasn’t really dead at all. I’d wake up and jump out of bed in a hurry to continue our conversation, then freeze and fold in half, hyperventilating as reality hit me. At twenty-two, I had not yet explored how the violence that I couldn’t remember witnessing affected my life and my relationships. Ike died when I was five. Mom hated him. His mom loved him. I, on the other hand, had never given myself permission to have feelings about this man who’d loved me and killed my mother. Until I saw him staring back at me through my mirror in the flickering light of a white candle.