In female anatomy, the hood of the clitoris — or the
clitoral hood — is the fold of skin that surrounds
the head of the clitoris. It protects the sensitive
clitoris from friction or rubbing.
It’s the small flap of skin at the point where
the inner lips meet. The clitoral hood surrounds
and protects the sensitive tip of the clitoris.
Myth: having a lot of sex stretches the labia
Although shocking, people really believe
multiple sexual partners or lots of sex
can affect the way your labia look.
Sex should never have a long lasting physical
effect on the appearance of your vagina and the
shape and size of your labia are not affected by sex.
The vagina is designed to stretch for
childbirth – even a larger partner won’t
have an effect on the size of your vagina.
When you are aroused the tissues of the
vagina and vulva (including clitoris)
will become engorged with blood and
start to swell and may appear darker.
Inside the body the top of the vagina
will expand. The increased blood flow
will facilitate an increase in natural
lubrication.These changes aren’t long-lasting.
Why Can’t We
Call a Cunt a Cunt?
Instead, we seem more comfortable with infantile euphemisms
like fanny and noonie in our everyday speech.
Then there’s Box Beaver Pussy Cooch
Snatch Muff [as in diving] Twat…
This is where my feminist credentials kick in – sometimes
I take utter delight in using the word in its original context.
It sounds powerful, raw and earthy. I am woman. This is my cunt.
Once upon a time our genitals were just shameful
blank spaces that everyone ignored until high school,
when people started paying a lot of attention to them
but still didn’t call them by name. Vagina was just gross.
Vagina has had a long history as a shocking word.
Remember that amazing and hilarious scene in
The Big Lebowski when Julianne Moore’s character
says to the Dude, “Vagina. Does that word make
A fair question since the word vagina
makes almost everyone uncomfortable.
I wish I could remember exactly when I realized
the word vagina was being used liberally and in
public as an automatic laugh-getter and funny w
oman badge of honor, but I can’t. Safe bet it was
sometime around 2011, when the New York Times
published an article on the liberal use of vagina in sitcoms.
When I was growing up, no one had a vagina.
We had VJs, yonnies, suzies, pee pees and,
long before the concept of social media was born, tweeters.
The only people who ever said the word “vagina”
were pediatricians and moms warning you not
to wash it with soap. And this was in the groovy
Northern California of the ‘70s. We were hardly prudes.
My elementary school playground was rife with dicks
and wieners. But never, ever, ever did anyone refer
to the girl part by its medical name — or otherwise.
We probably have Eve Ensler to thank for the vagina revolution.
When The Vagina Monologues came out in 1996, it was a giant
step forward, not just for women and vaginas but for the word vagina.
Suddenly “down there” had something to say. Not only that,
it had a name — a name lacking in melody and loveliness
but a name just the same (and yes, I know all about the vulva,
but no one in her right mind would ever use that word — ew).
While vagina may have come out of the closet, it’s losing
some of its luster as a punch line. Now that everyone
uses it, it’s not so shocking anymore.
Does all this “Power to the V” and chatting about
pubic tattoos on late-night talk shows represent
emancipation, linguistic or otherwise?
It doesn’t take long, when you’re thinking of a put-down
or a punchline, to veer toward the genitals or their
excretory and sexual functions.
And why not? Our privates truly are the core of our humanity.
They motivate and enthrall and sometimes disappoint and
embarrass us, yet keep the species going. They’re both
beautiful and weird,
For now, “vagina” is still the Voldemort of prime time,
a word that has been unspoken for so long that it has
a mystical, fearsome ability to shock.
So simple. So plain. So powerful. We patiently wait for
the day when we get unclinical and talk about the cunt.