Fugly Pussy

It's been quite a while since I last read Eve Ensler's book "The Vagina Monologues" and I remember being both amused and touched by it. For those who aren't familiar with this particular piece of work, it's a collection of monologues about issues directly relating to -- you guessed it -- the vagina. It's performed on stage worldwide every year, with many celebrity women participating.

I guess the central thesis of the monologues is that a woman's sexual organ is key to her empowerment. Well, that's not so hard to believe, is it? I mean, just look at how many men will make fools of themselves over a few inches of skin between a woman's legs. It's laughable sometimes, actually. I'm all for female empowerment, but I'd like to think that her brain plays as big a role (if not bigger) in it.

That being said, if a woman wants to use her private pussycat to proclaim her individuality, then I say, go gurrrrl! Push the bush. Commit the slit. Bunt the cunt. Whatever makes your love button happy!

What WOULD make me happier would be if this built-in device for female empowerment was more pleasant-looking. Because it sure as hell ain't. To put it plainly, I think it's in-fucking-credibly ugly. If it looked as alluring as, say, one's eyes or maybe if it were as sexy as the curve of one's nape, then I'd understand men's fascination with it. But nooo... Instead, it looks like a cut of raw meat in the butcher shop, for crying out loud. Or like an open, gaping wound. With hair on it.