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Getting stoned with my vagina revolutionized my feelings about my own sexual body

Why a perfectly healthy, vibrant woman would be ashamed of her own perfectly healthy, vibrant vagina is a different subject all together. We will file that one under "Future bones to pick with the Patriarchy." A different story for a different day. We will just say that hiding and quieting my vagina has just sort of been a major part of my role as a female, and hiding tends to lead to shameful feelings. Am I Right?

But today was for me and my vagina. I applied my beaver balm, generously. It melted like butter and felt warm, with a nice tingle. I pulled my pants and undies back up and went about my business, tidying the house, made myself a cup of coffee. Usual stuff. Twenty minutes later, my vagina was stoned…

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#effyourbeautystandards: The number on the scale does NOT define me

This has taken a lot of lady balls to post. But you know what?! #effyourbeautystandards! People may make assumptions about me — the way I dress, the way I carry myself — but let me tell you my story… I have struggled almost my whole life with poor self image. It was a lot worse growing up; it started very young in my pre-teens and it affected everything I saw in the mirror, not just my body. It's only been in my adult years where I've truly started to accept me for me.

1.3k

My third life: Reinventing myself by moving to another city

In New York, one of the first questions asked when you meet someone is, "What borough are you from?" I quickly learned that I needed to "represent." At first, it felt weird trying to profess my pride for a place that I had only know through TV and movies, but as months passed, I felt less and less like a Clevelander and more like a Brooklynite. Unfortunately, after 14 years, the New York City that had I loved since childhood pretty much vanished in front of my eyes. ust as we were contemplating leaving, we got an offer to stay with his family in Greeley, Colorado…

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How hockey helped me heal from an abusive relationship

I was almost five years into an abusive relationship, and at best, I was bereft of both self-esteem and hope. The good news is that a month and a half later, I finally got up enough courage to leave. At the time, I thought it was a temporary measure to help him realize that what he was doing was wrong. But it turned into a journey of recovery and self-discovery that I'm still taking today. None of it has been easy, but a lot of that journey has been aided by playing hockey…