sex warehouse

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe for Fleur De Lis' Sexy Circus!

As a little girl growing up you are fed all of these images of what you are supposed to look like. Shit, we were all given a Barbie doll at some point, and we came to think that was what a woman looks like. I think we have all read the research that if Barbie was a real person she would not be able to walk. Little girls are given so many things to live up to, so it is no wonder that as women we are all so body conscious.

I hear little girls who say things like, "I don’t want to get fat." I see girls wearing very adult clothes at a younger and younger age. But when you look at what our society defines as attractive- tall, thin, and with big boobs- it seems to be the image we are fed most. Mainly thin.

There are a variety of body types that not just women, but people, have. I cannot tell you how much time I have spent as a woman dissecting what is wrong with my body. The time my friends and I have spent in front of a mirror telling each other what we find wrong with our bodies. Since I have started a blog where I am photographed constantly, I have noticed my attention to detail with what I look like has evolved.

The makeup, the hair, the nails, and the clothes for women are designed to make me look sexy. Now, don’t get me wrong: I like being sexy. Actually, I love being sexy. There is something about putting on an outfit that you know you look good in and walking out of your house. Now, do I find it inappropriate that men eye fuck me, or yell at me from cars, that I can live without, but at least they still yell at me. Sometimes it makes me sick, and sometimes I smile.

It is hard to be a woman and not fit into a particular mold of what a woman is supposed to look like. When I was younger I had huge- and I mean HUGE- boobs, very short hair, and I was, at best, awkward in my teens. I grew into my looks and I learned how to be happy with the woman that I am. When I get dressed up now it's for me, but I do love to put on pretty things and walk down the street. I love being looked at and admired. Who doesn't?

We are judged on how we look. If a woman is not thin, she is judged for it. Have you ever heard “She has such a pretty face, if only she were thinner”? I think that sexy is in the eye of the beholder. I also think that not everyone is a stick figure, and they should not be judged for that.

Women come in a variety of shapes and colors. However, I do think we have it harder than men as far as our appearance. Men can be slovenly or disheveled and no one really says anything, but if a woman does that she has given up, or she is sad. I have been a size 4, and I have been a size 14, but my confidence has never come from my appearance. My confidence has always come from my ability to use my brain. Your looks fade, and you have to have more than that to fall back on in order to be a complete person.

What I don't understand is why, instead of teaching little girls to be pretty, we don’t teach them to be competent? We should encourage them to be anything that they want to be. Women need to feel less pressure from society to conform to a certain look. Everyone is beautiful in their own way and we should be encouraged to look how we want.

Whether you are a size 4 or a size 24, your confidence should be derived from who you are as a person instead of what you look like. I have met exceptionally attractive people who once they open their mouths, they become so ugly that I am repulsed by them. That movie Shallow Hal was a great example of looking for inner beauty. We need to be able to see who people are, beyond what their outward appearance is. I am lucky to be surrounded by a number of beautiful people, inside and out, but it is the inside that counts the most to me.


You can read more from Fleur De Lis SF on her blog. The above photo was taken during a promotional shoot for her upcoming Sexy Circus! Come one, Come all! September 17, 2011 at the Center For Sex & Culture, 1349 Mission Street, San Francisco, CA. Doors open at 8:30 and the show starts at 9:00.

When researching photos to accompany Sossity's Guest Post last week, I came across images of some of the other women of Big Burlesque whom I had the immense pleasure of meeting in 2005.  Here are are four of my favorite photos of four incredible performers.  - Shilo

Ginger Virago - Copyright 2005 Shilo McCabe

Jukie Sunshine - Copyright 2005 Shilo McCabe

Sugar LaMoore - Copyright 2005 Shilo McCabe

Copyright 2005 Shilo McCabe

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

I love my body. Sometimes I don't like it--sometimes I'm frustrated by the way it doesn't fit comfortably into theater seats or the clothes I want to wear, and how fragile and easily damaged it can be despite its sturdy appearance--but I do love it. I worship it, even, as I worship all bodies.

I'm not a spiritual person at all; it's the physical, the corporeal that I find sacred and holy. Our bodies are our interface to the world around us, and our physical experience of the world is what shapes the very way we speak and think. Our bodies are how we connect with others: our lips speak and share, our hands touch and create, and our feet carry us to the places where others are. Our bodies are all we have and the source of all we are, no matter what they look like, and I find that so beautiful that I can't help but love my own. - Rhiannon

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

Dear Sweet Body,

You are a temple. You are pillars of past, walls of art, high arching doorways of history. You are a place of worship for some and a place to rest weary heads of others. You are for everyone who comes by you honestly and with intention and love.

You are the ocean, your great waves undulating seductively around massive wooden ships. You woo sailors with glints of shiny trick lighting and the sound of sirens in your shallows. You are massive and deep and salty at all of the right times. Your tide pools tremble with tiny discovery.

You are a journey. You are smooth brow and sunburned lips. You are saddle ass and sweaty thighs and hard memories wrapped in the finest swatches of silk under heaving breasts. You demand cartographers with years of experience simply to find the terrible softness in your hips, your lips, and your collarbone. You are unraveling miles of surprising shyness, teeth biting into pillows of lips. You are unending. Would be suitors shade their eyes on horizons of your equator.

You are a wild horse. You buck easily. You tame rarely. You run until you are sheen of sweat and lust. You toss your head at danger and leap over obstacles. You are youthful and old and always free. You belong to no one.

Sweet body you are a carriage, a mystery, a puzzle, a long road ahead of me. You support me and rarely protest when I make you do things you would rather not.

You are still glimmering after 4 wars. You are the dazed smile on my lover’s face when asked to disrobe. You are the sun singing against you in your racy red bathing suit. You are the truth of standing up straight like your Papaw always told you to.

Sweet body.
You are a beauty.

Love,
Alysia

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

You can read more from Alysia on her blog.

Heather MacAllister was the first sex-positive size activist I met.  I had the opportunity to work with her when she asked me to take promotional photos for her Fat Bottom Revue burlesque troupe.  She made a lasting impression on me and was a huge inspiration.  I'm happy to present some images from our 2005 photo shoot, to accompany this guest post by the radically awesome Sossity Chiricuzio.         -Shilo

Copyright 2005 Shilo McCabe

By Sossity Chiricuzio
I’ve had a long and complicated relationship with sex and my body. I’m sad that the same could be said by almost every person I've ever discussed that with. As a child, it was uncomplicated: my body felt good. The socialization of advertising, public school, and inappropriate adult men made it a place of fear, and shame. I quickly realized that only some bodies were the good ones, sex was mostly dirty, and the people deciding those things weren’t likely to change their minds. It broke my heart, and my spirit, for many years.

Copyright 2005 Shilo McCabe

After I came out as queer I began to meet people who were proudly sexual and persistent in fighting for information and healthy sexuality. I began to reclaim my power around sex - both in how I had it, and in my activism. I was studying Humanities and Women's Studies at the University of Arizona.  It was 1992, and penetration was often still considered patriarchal. Those of you reading this who don’t know what I’m talking about: hit up Wikipedia on terms such as ‘lesbian feminism’, ‘Andrea Dworkin’ and ‘separatism’. And then, for your antidote: ‘sex radical’.

The truth is, I have had a long and complicated relationship with feminism as well. I’ve had many arguments over the years with other feminists as to if I even qualify as a feminist. This usually happens after I’ve read one of my poems about fisting, advocated for polyamory or BDSM, or otherwise disrupted their idea of what feminism should include. I’ve also had many a long and satisfying conversation with like minded sex-positive feminists and am grateful for the ever-expanding activism and resources we are collectively creating. There is one person in particular that understood and resonated with me completely, and continually inspires me:  Heather MacAllister, aka Reva Lucian.

Copyright 2005 Shilo McCabe

Meeting her was akin to vault doors being blown open in a flood of fierce sunshine. She was determined to be shameless, and to drag the rest of us with her into that light.  Learning to love my body exactly the way it was, and for all it could do, was her challenge to me and so many others. Her magic was rooting those lessons in the body itself, through ritual, sex, dance and anything else that revealed the power inherent in flesh that is loved. We both approached that space as a way of embodying the sacred whore - for ourselves, and others - and considered that work to be our gift to the world and our own battle scarred bodies.

We met the challenge of being femme, fat and bold in the pursuit of our desire in similar ways. Refusing to apologize; reveling in running the fuck just as much as giving over to rough and tender hands; sharing the best revelations, and the best lovers; walking in that grace and power, visible and unashamed. We strove to set that example for others as well as ourselves in our art and activism. Protests and workshops, bordellos and play parties, burlesque and erotica … if it offered a chance for people to love themselves better, and each other, we explored it.  We lived thousands of miles apart more often than not, but our muses traveled the distance in a heartbeat.

Copyright 2005 Shilo McCabe

Heather’s legacy is widely known, and the ripples she spread continue to roll into waves of realization and revolution. One of those waves is the project that brings every skill I’ve gathered along the way into perfect overlap with our shared beliefs: Dirty Queer. It’s an X-Rated Open Mic and Fundraiser I’ve produced and hosted monthly for almost 5 years now at our local feminist resource center, and it’s entirely reasonable to say it wouldn’t have happened without her encouragement and faith in me. She was never able to attend, as it began the month before her death, but I feel her in that room with me every month: buoying me up with passionate conviction, smiling on the courage of people sharing their deepest selves, flirting her energy up against the sexy confidence everyone in the room takes on as we all witness for each other what it is to be so fully seen and appreciated. Sex radicals, radical sex - we hold that space for each other, we love ourselves, we inhabit our bodies from the marrow to the skin. Just what she wanted.

Heather, with the women of Fat Bottom Revue, 2005.

I’m going to close with some pieces of wisdom and inspiration she shared with me over the years - some of them paraphrased quotes, some of them examples she set, and many of them familiar to folks who knew her. Love yourselves better. Face that part of your sexuality that is scariest and own it. Get your parts checked, whatever they are, and however you feel about them. Respect your lovers, and yourself. Negotiate like you are in control of your own body, even if you don’t believe it yet. Make friends with the mirror, or break up with it. Court your friends as well as your lovers. Take yourself on a hot date as a first choice, not a backup plan. Tell a stranger they are beautiful. Be an ally, an advocate, an educator. Keep doing the work. Even when it’s hard, or embarrassing, or uncomfortable. It’s worth it, and so are you.

Heather and Sossity, photo courtesy of Sossity.

Morgan's guest post today resonates with me on a very personal level.   My own relationship with food is intimately connected to my sense of self-worth and self-esteem. Being able to embrace a positive attitude toward my own (and others') sexuality is extremely difficult, if not impossible, when the self-esteem is failing me.  I am so pleased to present Morgan's story.  You can follow their culinary adventures on their foodie blog, Chubb Gourmet, and they are a talented photographer to boot!     -Shilo

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

24 years into my life, I’m finally entering into an honest, open relationship with food.

I have been fat for all of my adult life, and most of my childhood. Around age 7 or 8, I started getting “chubby.” By age 12 I was all out fat. It was no fault of my parents. They fed me well-rounded, healthy meals. Junk food was sparse in our household. I was active as a child, too. I don’t blame anyone for being fat. It just happened. I am a great example of the result of a Punnett square with a long line of fat family members. It just happens to be a dominant trait in my particular set of genes.

When I entered my adolescence, my fatness started to impact my self-image and social interactions. It stopped being cute “puppy fat” and started being a “problem.” My first diet and gym membership began at age 12. At 12 years old, when I should have been thinking about school crushes and what I wanted my birthday party theme to be, I was worrying about being the fat kid and why my diet wasn’t working.

This is when my relationship with food really started becoming abusive and problematic. Up until that point, food and I got along just fine. We enjoyed each other’s company in moderation. We had occasional bouts of wild excess, but more often than not engaged in respectful, mutual appreciation. The instant I began calorie counting and thinking “low-fat,” I began binge-eating. I became ashamed of eating in public, began worrying about what people thought about my choices in food, and had to start rationalizing my choices to eat “poorly” by promising those around me that I would be exercising later to offset the calories. At home, my mom worked hard to ensure I was eating “right.” At school, or at friends’ houses, I ate all the junk food available to me in an irrational response to being forced to think about weight loss all the time.

My mom and I tried every fad diet that popped up. We got multiple gym memberships. We tried personal trainers. We bought diet food. At age 16, my doctor prescribed me phentermine, a habit forming appetite suppressant that caused me to feel strung out and anxious. Sometimes we lost weight, but no matter how much we lost, we always gained it back. By this time, I wasn’t fantasizing about growing up to be a politician or graduating top of my class in college; I was imagining how perfect my life would be when I was finally skinny.

My junior year of high school, I jumped on the low-carb diet fad with gusto. I stopped eating bread, rice, pasta and even “high-carb” fruits like apples and bananas. The diet was supposedly most effective if you could force your body into ketosis, a state that causes incredible stress to the liver. I ate nothing but protein for a solid month, and started losing huge amounts of weight. At one point, I lost ten pounds in a week. And my energy levels plummeted. I felt sick, couldn’t concentrate in school, and was always hungry. I began binging on carbohydrates. I felt terrible, both emotionally and physically. I felt like I was failing myself every time I gave in and had my sandwich on bread instead of in between two pieces of lettuce. When my mother realized how sick the diet was making us, we stopped. And we almost immediately gained all the weight back.

I didn’t know it then, but I hated food. I hated eating. I hated myself.

I chased weight loss goals and flirted with diet after diet for FOURTEEN YEARS of my life. It wasn’t until I was introduced to fat-positive and “healthy at every size” movements in college that I finally started to seriously examine my relationship with food. I realized that I was causing myself huge emotional and physical harm by constantly berating myself for not being skinny enough or eating well enough or exercising enough. I started to food as something that could heal and create community.

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

And the moment I resolved to stop dieting and exercising for weight loss, my life changed. I started cooking for myself, and learning about amazing foods like quinoa. I started getting excited about vegetables and learning which ones were local and in-season. I became more connected to local and slow-food movements, and learning about the science of food and how our bodies process it.

And when I stopped thinking about exercise for weight-loss I learned that I really enjoyed yoga and bike riding. I started training for long distance bike rides, and talked with a nutritionist NOT about how to lose weight, but how to nourish myself as I became more active. I started discovering new whole grains that made me feel full and energized. I learned how to cook in ways that were exciting and different and most importantly NOURISHED ME.

In short, I came back to healthy relationship with food. I’m still working on strengthening things. I’m trying to slow down, learn to savor every moment with the food I eat and stop when I’ve had my fill. And no, the pounds aren’t melting away. This is not a story about how I lost 100 pounds and kept it off. It’s about discovering what foods power me or make me feel satisfied. It’s about how I’m building a healthy, sustainable relationship with the food I put into my body and how this new relationship is making me feel better, mentally and physically. This is a story about how as soon as I started loving food again, I started to love MYSELF again.

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

I'm thrilled to announce that more of my Muir Beach photoshoot with Jiz Lee, which resulted in their "I masturbate..." Day 31 image is available as this month's Karma Pervs update. Proceeds this month are benefiting Lady Monster, Queen of the Fire Tassels, who won my gratitude in particular by bringing Naked Girls Reading to San Francisco (see my photos of their inaugural event here)! Lady Monster has, of late, found herself broke, but not broken and I am so happy that Jiz has decided to use their project to help in the spirit of love and community. Jiz explains on their blog: 

"Lady Monster is a working artist, something that is somewhat of a rarity these days and worth preservation so that she can continue delighting, teaching, and inspiring others." 

As an added bonus, Jiz is giving away copies of  Dangerous Curves, directed by Carlos Batts and April Flores to three lucky Karma Pervs signups. Bravo!

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

 By Airial Clark

Have you ever used the phrase, ‘They wrote the book on it!’ to describe someone’s depth of knowledge, passion or commitment to a subject? Well, with Dossie Easton, it is in no way an understatement to say that when it comes to sexual relationships involving BDSM, kink, and polyamory, she wrote the books.

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

When I sat down in Dossie’s kitchen, I realized that I was looking into the eyes of a woman who has co-written the five books that whole communities of sexually alternative people live by. She and Janet Hardy have published texts that frankly and honestly guide people on how to explore their sexuality. Shilo and I are so grateful to have had the opportunity to photograph and speak with Dossie in her home.

This is the first of three posts covering our interview with Dossie that we will be bringing to you throughout the month of June.

If you are curious about sex and power, sex and love, sex with other people, sex and your own soul, read her books. The core of Dossie’s body of work is about consent. Which is why it is so radical. Do you want to fight the oppressive paradigm around sex, the soul and the body? Then learn how to ask for what you want, learn how to say no to what you don’t want, and learn how to respect the boundaries of your sexual and intimate partners. This is the how to knowledge that Dossie and Janet provide. For a list of their books, with a synopsis of each, click here to go to Dossie’s website. http://www.dossieeaston.com/books.html These are five texts that everyone should read, and again, this is not an understatement.

Dossie Easton is the elder of our kinky, poly, BDSM tribes. She has a wisdom that can only come from years of experience, and lucky for us, she knows it. “There aren’t many of us left who were there at the start of these revolutions.” Her next project is an autobiographical portrait of the 1960’s. Dossie has two reasons for writing this book. “One as a memoir of my life,” she says, “but also a reminder from where we’ve come from. How different it was before the struggle. I’m starting at the beginnings of the sexual revolution, of feminism, of gay liberation.” In describing the past, Dossie will let us know how far we’ve come. She has seen that, “People forget how everything was illegal, and they would throw you in jail for it. The white out on information was incredible. There were no books.” In a time when sometimes we may feel like we are on information overload it is easy to take the works of Dossie and Janet for granted.

Here’s an assignment for you, dear traveler of the interwebs that brought you to our page: get your hands on one of Dossie’s books. Like a real actual physical copy, read it in a public place and see what happens. Then come back here for part 2 of the interview where Dossie dishes on the current BDSM scene.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

I masturbate because I love myself, and I believe that healthy pleasure is really good for you. I also think that sex is proof that God loves us and wants us to have fun, and what is more sacred than the relationship to oneself? Plus, self-pleasuring helps deepen connection to our bodies and build pleasure-centered nervous channels in your pelvic floor. Self-pleasuring is also a meditation on how we all generate our own turn-on (in life)... your focus becomes the moment in which you're in: being more present in the moment increases the pleasure, with mental focus on the sensations of the body that INCREASE WITH AWARENESS. Om.   -Sexploration with Monika

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

I masturbate…a lot.

I started masturbating pretty young, but I remember in 3rd grade I discovered the wonder of the showerhead and the following year I decided that it was a good idea to pass this information along to my friend…while we were showering. I was unaware that there was any shame associated with what I was doing until Middle School. This did not stop me, but I became very aware that it was meant to be shameful and became self-conscious about masturbating. When I was introduced to the concept of sex-positivity and began discussing jerking off with my friends in college, the shame disappeared again and I was able to enjoy myself. I love to masturbate, it is something that I do just for myself, although I really enjoying jerking off for a partner. I explore fantasies, I watch porn, but sometimes I’m just watching TV and find my hand wander into my pants. I love my cock and love finding new ways to get myself off.
-- Bean

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

I masturbate for me. I masturbate for her. I masturbate for every filthy dirty thought that passes through my head all day long. I masturbate to know my own body and to hear my own pleasure. I masturbate to give myself some time for me, sometimes it's just once a week, sometimes it's twice a day. Years ago, I often had entire days where I would stay in bed, read a book, jack off, take a nap... wake up, read some more, take a nap, wake up, jack off again, back to nap, all day long. Such decadence. Those days are sweet and rare now, but I delight in the luxury of them so much more.     -Kitty

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

I masturbate therefore I am. It’s a philosophical discussion really. I feel alive when I masturbate. I masturbate for sanity. I masturbate persistently but not consistently. I sometimes masturbate five times in a day and sometimes go five days without. It’s relaxation, meditation, and pornification all rolled into one for me. I love how my masturbation fantasies have evolved for me over time. I remember when a threesome was a wild fantasy. Now, it can be anything from octopus bondage to extreme abduction scenes. Of course, there’s always room for gentle realities to stimulate my libido. Oftentimes I use toys, the N’joy Eleven as seen in the photo, the Betty Dodson Barbell, and of course my beloved Hitachi to name a few favorites, but it’s also interesting to simply use the hands.

Speaking of which, I had a dominant hand wrist injury last year and had to learn to masturbate entirely with my weaker hand. I would stroke myself in frustration, sometimes leading to tears. It brought me to an amazing self-discovery on how dependent I had become on my own “dominance”. The toppy behavior that had brought me many profound experiences and loves was beginning to impede me from deeper connection. So the psychological work that occurs from unburying parts of our selves is paramount to my masturbation.

Sometimes I will get a Proustian moment, a sexual memory, whether difficult or beautiful and I can allow it to be or I can reform it into a sexually empowering experience. Of course, even the straight up pornographic masturbations can bring excellent results. Being aware of my carnal needs and then fulfilling them has been a blessing in helping me evolve into the independent and sexually self confident woman I am. I masturbate to relax, to play, to laugh and to enjoy life! I love masturbating my partners also, watching their expressions, how their bodies respond, and taking them to the edge and back again delights me to no end. In the end, whether I masturbate for relaxation, meditation, or pornification, I masturbate, donc, je suis.        -Eve Minax

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

I masturbate because my body deserves pleasure. No shame, no fear, no guilt.

One of my best friends bestowed that shower head to me. She was moving out of our building and her new place only had a tub faucet. When she handed it to me, she had this knowing look in her eye, "Here you go. Enjoy." I wasn't sure what she meant, but then I hooked it up. After sliding the discs this way and that, I found it: the perfect pulsating pressure. I texted her, "Best shower ever." And she texted back, "You're welcome, and you owe me."     -Airial

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

I masturbate whenever I'm able to. Living with my mother and son can make it difficult to just enjoy it anywhere, anytime. I love making myself feel good, like no other can, releasing stress and basking in sensation. Most commonly, I end up in the shower or my bedroom (after midnight), snatching that piece of alone time and embracing it with ecstasy.      -Jen

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

I masturbate because I am emerging, like the chrysalis of a butterfly. Spreading my wings and moving towards light. I am free and in the perfect moment. Breath meets beat. Dancing with the rhythm of vibration, a song playing on my clit. I am one with myself. Connected, present, ecstacy melting down my face. I am power, I am fire, I am energy moving, teasing, tantalizing. I am blossoming, growing, and evolving with orgasmic bliss.    -Lolo

Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe

I masturbate as an act of self-care. I often imagine scenarios of coercion, in which I'm either giving or receiving-- I flip back and forth, a true switch. Pain intensifies my orgasms, but isn't required. I can come simply from feeling leather softly caress my wet, swollen cunt. I can come again from turning slowly to bite the inside of my own wrist. I can come a third and fourth time from slapping my pussy hard while I imagine my legs bound spread-eagle and my body being used as a fuckhole. At some point, my orgasms will start to roll. If I'm feeling fancy I'll get out a cane to create flashes of exquisite rapture with each hard stroke. Endorphins flying high, I might conjure up memories of a girl I beat the week before, the image of her youthful vulnerability, tears, and bruised flesh causing me to peak all the harder. I enjoy withholding penetration until I can stand it no longer. I imagine begging for it. "Daddy, pretty please? I need your cock inside of me and I've been such a good girl." My cunt, so hungry, finally grabs onto the cock, pulling it deep inside, pushing it out again. I fuck myself as hard as I fuck my own girl. I keep coming. I haven't yet found the end of my body's ability. I usually stop because I'm overwhelmed, I've run out of time, or I'm too sore to continue.      - Leland Carina
LelandCarina.com


*all acts referred to above are about play between consenting adults