The Art of the "O"

Recently, I was packing up some books I was going to donate to the library or some other place books go to be useful once you've read them a dozen times. I came across my copy of Lou Paget's "The Big O." Fearing I may one day need this tidbit of information I decided to keep it.

What is it about the word orgasm that makes women blush and start tapping their foot uncontrollably on a carpeted surface? Why can't we just talk about it like the mature sex maniacs that we are?

Finding the book also happened to coincide with someone asking me what it feels like when I have an orgasm. (My husband shall remain nameless as the asker.)

Webster defines the orgasm as "an explosive discharge of neuromuscular tensions at the height of sexual arousal that is usually accompanied by the ejaculation of semen in the male and by vaginal contractions in the female."

HOW BORING!

I decided to ask around. Most notably, I asked my Dirty Laundry girls. I love these girls and I can always count on them to try to explain the unexplainable.

Dirty Girl (hereafter known as DG) number 1 said, "I guess I would describe it as a pot of water. First it starts out sort of tingly like the little bubbles at the bottom of the pot, then it builds, and builds until its boiling over. Then there are spasms. Well, now don't I feel like an orgasm loser."

DG number 2 said, "I'd say I'd describe it as an electrical surge or something. It build up and feels somewhere between too ticklish or sensitive and awesome and then crosses over into just awesome, then afterward you are the most relaxed you have ever felt.

Great job girls!

But its DG number 3 that really caused me concern. She said, "Well I'm not going to be ANY help. Why? I honestly don't think I've ever had one. Not alone or with anyone. It is very frustrating. Granted I do get enjoyment and I think I get what most call a climax but then it just doesn't haven any type of explosion and defintintely don't feel relaxed afterwards. I think I feel more bothered meaning wanting more as I'm guessing it really never happened."

I remember my first orgasm. I wasn't even having sex at the time. And to this DAY I can remember thinking, "THIS is what I have been missing?!?!" It was wildly intense and I never knew such a feeling existed. And even more surprising was that it had NOTHING to do with the penis! Yet, some 10 years later, I am still trying to figure out just what exactly I need to achieve the holy grail of voluntary seizures.

I figure practice makes perfect. Which is also my advice for DG #3. I also need to send her a copy of the book.

And maybe a plastic penis.

An InSPArational Experience

After a long night of margaritas, a flat tire in the ghetto, 3 women standing around wondering how to work the jack, one very hot cop, spike strips, Max the drug sniffing dog, two more cops and one very helpful Gengenbacher, I was really looking forward to my day at the spa. The idea of 20 minutes in a hydrotherapy bath, followed by an hour long massage and a pedicure was on par with multiple orgasms.

Going to the spa for the first time is kind of like going to your first gyno appointment. You make sure you have everything shaved, cleaned, and manicured. But, like the gyno, you quickly get over it and after your second or third time there, you are lucky if you put underwear on. I've been to InSPArations a few times and at least remembered to brush my teeth this morning.

I changed into my bikini, put on my robe and headed to the hydrotherapy room. After lowering myself into water I was pretty sure would burn off the leg hairs I decided not to shave, I settled into the crevices of the tub and let Amanda start the jets.

The jets start at the bottom and work their way up in a slow, meticulous motion. Thirty seconds into this I knew this wasn't going to be a grand experience. The jets beat down on the bottoms of my feet first, causing me to jerk them back, giggle uncontrollably and hit my shins on the bar that were suppose to be keeping my legs under water. The jets then moved upward to my calves, my hips, my back and my neck. After about 5 minutes I started getting really hot and was counting down until this was over. Looking back, I am pretty sure the warmth came from the high amounts of tequila being purged from my system.

I lifted my arms out of the tub and reached for my ice water and drank it in one big gulp leaving only ice in the glass. Then a bright idea hit me! I fished out a piece of ice and held it in my hand to cool down my skin and then ran my hands over my face. This worked for about 10 seconds before I just gave up and just ran the ice directly over my face.

PLOP!

There goes my ice straight into the tub. Immediately I was worried I would be thrown out and onto the street for letting such a tragic thing happen. There had to be rules about this kind of thing! Luckily nobody was paying attention and another piece of ice was fished out of the glass. At least now I understand why they don't let you have sliced oranges in your water while in the tub.

I passed the rest of the time thinking about penis'.

Finally, 20 minutes were up and I was allowed out of the boiling pot. I glanced in the mirror and my face was so red I looked like I had just had battery acid thrown on me. A few minutes of cooldown and it was onto the massage table.

I was only on the table for 5 minutes when I realized I was so relaxed, I would have agreed to anything at that point.

CIA: "Mrs. Vogel - tomorrow we will be dropping you in Afghanistan wearing only a paper bikini and carrying only a nail file. You will be responsible for finding and killing Osama Bin Ladin."

Me: "Why didn't we leave yesterday?"