9.05.2013

Child Pornography


Here's the chapter where you guys find out what I'm really up to and you call the police! Just kidding. It's not about child pornography. It's about sexuality, which for me surfaced at a very young age. My husband was all, "Can we get a better intro into your issues? Lalalala I'm hypersexual?" Well, I can't think of any other way to say it, so there it is. It's late as shit right now. It's on the table, take it or leave it.

 I have been thinking about sex since before I knew what it was. My friends I've known since grade school were pretty into it too, and one might wonder whether a Catholic education has an opposite effect as that desired by the educators. (It does. Catholic schoolers are freaks.) Our entire society is shame oriented, and going to a religion-based school definitely ups the shame quotient. Somehow (*ahem* human nature), all that guilt training just made us all that much more deviant. The whole system backfires. I have vivid memories of much of my childhood, but I'm sure the reason the sex-related stuff sticks out is because i was taught, as most of us are, that it was taboo and i was bad.
I refused to wear white. My poor parents.

I can remember the exact moment i became aware of sex, that it existed at all. My parents were not overtly sexual or at all affectionate with one another, and i was spared the classic, scarring scenario of walking in on them doing the nasty. Nothing was nasty about my parents, nothing. It was like Gandhi and Mother Teresa were married and expected to get their saintly freak on. If it were up to their example, i would have joined a convent. As it happened, I was in first grade at a fancy private school, wearing a plaid jumper and forest green knee socks with Sebagos, my blonde quasi-afro as wayward as my giant buck teeth. My brand new friend, Brandy, leaned over to me and whispered the news that she'd just seen the BEST MOVIE IN THE WORLD at her older cousin's house:

Brandy: "You know why they call it 'Dirty Dancing'?"
Me (oblivious): "No?"
Brandy: "Because they DO IT while they're DANCING!!!!!"

I had no idea what she meant, but i had to find out what 'doing it" was, STAT. Needless to say, i watched the movie as soon as i possibly could, without my parents' permission. I was hooked.

Brandy was involved in several other "rite of passage" type scenarios for me. This includes the time in 2nd grade when she told me we could expect to get our Periods ANY DAY. (For those of you who are severely retarded, most girls don't menstruate until around the 6th grade.) I never had the guts to tell her i had no idea what she was talking about when she made these revelations, so i just tried to imagine what it might be. In this case, i vividly remember imagining our Periods would be given to all of us, girls and boys, at a ceremony in the school chapel. It would be a Special Day, and we would be required to wear our crested blazers, as we did for graduations and such. Mister Grega, the school's officiant, would hand us each a plaque with the words 'YOUR PERIOD' reflecting from its gold face, and he would beam with pride and shake each of our little hands, happy to be a part of this milestone in our young lives.

She also helped me try on my first bra when we were in 3rd grade and utterly titless. It was peach and had a Calvin Klein elastic band. We did those exercises described in Judy Blume's 'Are You There, God, It's Me, Margaret?' to make us grow boobs, and we made up sex stories that revolved mainly around lacy lingerie and kissing.

Another of my oldest friends, Katie, realized we had a sex obsession in common when we met in 4th grade. Our Barbies, which we secretly still played with, fucked like rabbits despite Ken's handicap of being unable to remove his tight, flesh-colored underwear. It was one long, drawn-out dry hump party in Barbie's townhouse. They were all involved, even those i had rendered stubble-headed. It was like a bizarre, sexless orgy in a posh cancer ward.

Katie and I also took up the sex fantasy talk with fervor around 5th grade. My parents used to take us on these things called Volksmarches, which were basically just long walks for nerdy adults. They were about 5k, and you got a medal at the end, so in case people didn't believe you could walk, you could hold that Volksmarch medal right up in their skeptic-ass FACES and show them what was what. Katie and i were always sure to be ahead of or behind my parents, out of earshot. We would create casts of characters who did nothing but seduce and fuck each other all day and had closets full of lacy bustiers. They were always husband and wife, and nothing got too kinky, save for a couple of Christmas Editions.

By the time we were 12, Katie and i were planning the loss of our virginities with the dedication of Olympic athletes. We'd stay up till 3 am in her mauve-ass room, dreaming of boys. We wanted to wait "till we were at least 13", so as to avoid any rumors of our sluttiness. The key piece of the puzzle we overlooked, however, was the fact that we were absolutely hideous. I was right in the middle of a crippling awkward stage that lasted approximately six years and was not aided in the least by the 1990s. I looked as if my parents had adopted me from Somalia weeks earlier and taken me directly to the 5-7-9 clothing store for multiple pairs of socks and any number of floral, puffy items. The seasonally appropriate colored bands on my braces weren't helping. Needless to say, boys didn't come closer than a safe several yards.
En fucking fuego

One summer during this racy sexual journey of mine, my 16-year-old cousin came to babysit and gave me Playgirl magazines to mull through while she was busy. She would draw me science-class pictures of the female reproductive system, in some bizarre attempt to be scholarly and maternal. She meant well (I hope), but was likely (totally) screwing me up completely. This is probably why i was so young when i discovered my own genitals. Besides, looking the way i did, it would be quite some time before anyone else came near them. My Tretorns and homemade puffy paint sweatshirts weren't causing any hard-ons, so it was necessary to take matters into my own hands, or at least my right hand. I remember, once again, having NO idea what an orgasm was or how sex was supposed to end. But i remember touching myself for the first time and thinking my brain was going to explode. I thought to myself, "Oh my God! I gotta stop! I gotta..stop....what's....happening???" Boom. Scorched earth.

I did not discriminate when it came to finding smut, either. We used to visit my grandmother in her assisted living facility in upstate New York, and there was a small library adjacent to the lobby. It was here that i discovered the sequels to 'The Clan of the Cave Bear', an excellent book that was actually required reading my freshman year of high school. The original, however, did not contain the straight up hot cave-porn that spiced up the subsequent books in the series. The protagonist, Ayla, was essentially described as a prehistoric version of Barbie and was constantly getting lovingly banged by her hot cave-partner, 'Jondalar'. He had a huge and often throbbing "member" with which he would "penetrate her quivering womanhood" on the daily. Thanks, Assisted Living Facility! Keep the change!

I was 13 by the time i actually made out with someone in Real Life. You'll recall i had big plans to be sleeping with at least one hot slice of masculinity by that point, but as reality would have it, i was making out with a fellow Giant Nerd from theater camp. (Yes.) He was starring as Kenickie opposite my Rizzo in our production of Grease, so he was a natural choice. We made out on the forest floor in the woods near my house in mild states of undress, and it was pretty cool, save for the two pairs of braces and his overactive salivary glands. However, the angry Catholic God with whom i was so familiar by then made sure i got poison ivy from head to toe. When i say head to toe, i mean every single inch of my body. My eyes were swelled shut and so was my (still untouched! so unfair!) vagina. It was a full-on Phantom of the Opera situation, and i was taken to the ER. God was being a real dick that day.

Years later, I finally lost my virginity at a friend's graduation party at age 16. I was totally in love with the guy and we remained friends for many years. Still, I had both hands over my eyes and yelled at him to "JUST GO!" because i couldn't bear to be a virgin for another SECOND. Thus began my sexually active life. But that is another chapter. That is a lot of chapters. Buncha chapters. Keep reading....



**Brandy is still one of my closest friends, even though neither of us became the dirty dancers we dreamed of being. She is the dean of a school for children with special needs, and i am a mother of four and an artist. So lame.
**Katie and i are also still extremely close. She, more appropriately, is becoming a sex therapist.

4 comments:

  1. Hysterical Rachel! I can relate to so much of this, and yet I'm too scarred by Catholicism to be specific. Fan-fucking-tastic post.

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  2. Thanks for the journey down awkward! You were not alone my child. You were not alone.

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  4. Ha! Awesome. So glad my (pre)teen days are behind me. And I second Rebecca; you were definitely not alone. God, we were freaks.

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