Why I Want a Loose Vagina
An unexpected lesson from wearing vaginal beads
In my first relationship, I was surprised by how uncomfortable sex could be. I didn’t experience any of the pain I was warned about on our first night together. But over the weeks that followed, I consistently experienced pain during penetration because my vagina was so tight.
I was 19 and it was the mid-90s. No one was talking about this. The narrative around vaginas was always the same — the tighter the better. Better orgasms. Better sex for your partner. And god knows, everyone made jokes about women who had had babies — you know, like the “throwing a hot dog down a hallway” joke that I now find decidedly not funny.
I didn’t know that my tight vagina was not necessarily the norm, or even that sex wasn’t supposed to be so damn uncomfortable because of tightness.
As time went on, I occasionally entered conversations in which women confessed that they were having pain during penetration. I learned I wasn’t the only one. And of course, off to do some research, I went.
I didn’t know that my tight vagina was not necessarily the norm, or even that sex wasn’t supposed to be so damn uncomfortable because of tightness.
I discovered lots of causes behind this. In many, many cases, it was due to lack of arousal on the woman’s part or not enough preparation and stimulation before penetration was attempted. As I questioned my friends, that seemed to be the problem for them — fast-moving lovers who either didn’t want to spend a lot of time warming their ladies up or who just didn’t know that they needed to.
I began to realize, though, that my problem wasn’t always tied to my level of arousal. My first boyfriend, as our relationship progressed, would sometimes tease and caress me for nearly two hours, while we were watching a movie, before he’d actually initiate sex. I was definitely ready and yet it still often hurt.
I started sharing my issues with a friend of mine and she nodded.
“I’m not surprised,” she said. “You’re so uptight. Your vagina is just reflecting that.”
Of course, I was dismayed to hear that. Who wants to be called uptight?
But also…I knew she was right. I had so many issues about my body, sexuality, how I was “supposed” to behave… Every single thing I did or said went through twelve filters before execution. I mean, god. It was exhausting being me.
“Loosening up” became a literal spiritual endeavor for me over the course of my thirties. How could I be less uptight? Less judgmental? Less wound up?
I know I made strides in that area because my sex life became much, much more enjoyable. I still needed a lot of slow, relaxing stimulation before my partner could enter me, but I almost never experienced pain. And then there was that one time that I reference endlessly because it was so goddamn hot when we were cuddling naked and both felt this spark of sexual need surge through us, and he rolled on top of me and without assistance or direction, his penis slid fully into me.
Yes, I remember that moment because of the intense sexuality of it, because of the carnal need both of us seemed to have, because of the intense electricity of energy between us. But I also remember it for another very simple reason: because without any preparation, without any stimulation, other than lying naked together as we so often did, my body opened completely to him, immediately and fully accepting him inside me.
A short while ago, when I got my first set of vaginal beads in the mail, I had flashbacks to my first relationship. Those beads were big and I knew it would be a task to get them inside me.
As it turned out, getting them in, though it took quite a while, was not nearly as uncomfortable as getting them out. I forgot until it was too late, that spherical, or egg-shaped toys tend to cause me pain during removal, when the widest part comes out, pushing against my very tight muscles. Ouch.
…without any preparation, without any stimulation, other than lying naked together as we so often did, my body opened completely to him, immediately and fully accepting him inside me.
When I removed the beads on that first day of using them, I was struck with a realization — I had always been interested in developing a fit, muscularly-skilled vagina, just as the cultural narrative had taught me. But what about the opposite? Receptive, accepting, easy, and open. Isn’t that just as important not just in sex, but in life?
I thought again about what close friends and family members have told me, from time to time: that I’ve always been so tightly wound. I’ve always over-analyzed everything. I’ve always been so concerned about doing the right thing. I’ve always been so uptight about my body — how it looks, how others perceive it, how I could protect it (which is a legitimate issue for me).
Yes, it makes sense to me that it is hard for me to allow something into my body. It makes sense to me that it’s hard for me even to release enough to let go of a sex toy.
Receptive, accepting, easy, and open. Isn’t that just as important not just in sex, but in life?
It has been incredibly hard for me to receive. Love, assistance, compassion. I wall myself off from that. I’m not good enough. I’m not strong enough. I’m not pretty enough. I’ll accept love and assistance and compassion when I deserve it.
It is hard for me to open up to new experiences. I’m afraid of everything. What if something goes wrong? What if I lose control? What if I change my mind but feel like I’m not allowed to change it and end up doing something I don’t want to do? It often feels easier and safer to just remain tightly closed.
It is hard for me to let go of other people’s expectations. Of my own. It’s hard for me to let go of my fears and anxieties. It’s hard for me to just let go.
It occurred to me that there’s more to these beads than just strengthening my vagina. Maybe they can help teach me to open up — to unwind — as well.
I became the uptight, wound-up person that I am for a reason. There was a lot of instability in my childhood, trauma and abuse in my past, and mental health issues that I’ve struggled with. Being uptight and carefully controlled felt like a necessity most of my life.
It occurred to me that there’s more to these beads than just strengthening my vagina. Maybe they can help teach me to open up — to unwind — as well.
Letting go of that now is a seductive idea, but also…terrifying. I still feel a deep need to protect myself, to allow myself to have some control over what happens to me, and especially to my body. And all too often, letting my sexuality or even feelings of love run free can feel intensely dangerous. Will I regret this later? Will I find myself in a situation in which I lose control over what happens to my body?
The thought of that, even now, sitting here in the safety of my office, makes my whole body tense. I’m 12 years old again, pressed against the wall by those boys who treated me like a walking, breathing sex doll. I’m 25 again, letting a man push my face against his dick, not knowing how to say no, how to say “Stop,” how to say “Just because you bought me dinner doesn’t mean I want this.”
Try to get those beads into (or out of) me now.
And yet, if I’m honest with myself, this tightness isn’t helping, either. How much is feeling safe and in control worth to me? Enough to give up the chance at having more fun? Enough to always hold myself at arm’s length from people — men, in particular — lest I take things “too far,” make them want more than I can give, inspire affection I might not return?
There is a price to being too tight. Too closed off. And I’m not sure I’m willing to pay that price anymore.
Now I know my beads are here to do more than tighten me up. No, they’re also meant to teach me how to open up and accept…and open up and release.
How much is feeling safe and in control worth to me? Enough to give up the chance at having more fun?
I truly believe, hokey as it might sound, that the vagina is a part of the female body where we can access our soul, our spiritual power. And I believe that the way it engages with the world around it is an indicator of how we engage with the world around us.
I truly believe that practicing a softness within me — both behaviorally (as in, being more receptive to love) and physically (as in, being more receptive to a lover or sex toy) — will help me open up more to life and to love. And I believe that loosening up in order to more easily let things go (disappointments, judgments, fears, and yes, even sex toys) can only help me become more fluid and resilient in life.
And so, although I’m enjoying (very, very much) the pleasure of wearing my beads and the challenge of keeping them in during walks or vigorous activity, I’m finding that the most important moments of this practice are the insertion and release.
The accepting and the letting go.
This article was written for Howl by Yael Wolfe, a weekly column.
© Yael Wolfe 2020
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