Getting to Know You...

...getting to know all about you.

(Yes I thought I was the next Julie Andrews as a child SO WHAT.)

You are the most important person in your sex life. A lot of women don't realize that, or can easily lose track of that, because they are so focused on pleasing the other person. And yes, I firmly believe that sex is meant to be a give and take, but unless you know enough about yourself you aren't really enjoying the full potential that your sex life has to offer you. I don't want you to read this and think "Oh, Gemma's just encouraging masturbation." While I am an advocate for alone time in the bathtub (or wherever your heart/vagina desires), that's not entirely what I mean. Spend a few minutes each day staring at your naked body in the mirror. It's going to feel a little awkward, and making eye contact with your reflection can be scary sometimes. Push past that. Look at how your body curves. Notice how the light catches on your collarbones. Trace your finger over every contour and dimple. Run your hands over your arms, and notice how the feel of the skin on your forearms is different from the feel of the skin on your shoulders. Feel the weight of each breast in your hand. Turn around and watch how your spine curves and arches. Notice how your stomach creates the perfect segue into your pelvis, and feel how strong your hipbones are. Notice the texture of your pubic hair and how your labia is shaped. Run your hands up and down your legs, feeling the shapes and sizes of all the different muscles. Place your fingers between your toes and realize that the sensations our bodies are capable of are limitless.

The human form is, in my opinion, undeniably the most perfect piece of art that exists upon this planet. From the eight thousand nerve endings in the clitoris to the stinging you feel from a paper cut, we are perfectly engineered organisms capable of feeling extreme levels of pleasure and pain. But unless you know how all of those levels work, what is the point of enjoying physical stimulation? Discover it for yourself, and you will be much more willing to discover it with other people.

I remember being highly intrigued by my body as a child. I was fascinated by the fact that I would one day grow hair in different places, and different parts of me would grow at different rates. I would stare at myself in the mirror after taking a shower and wonder what I would look like when I was grown up. In all honesty, my body developed into one I never though I would have. I was extremely athletic as a child. I was convinced I would always have two percent body fat, a streamlined running machine that would be forever fit. Puberty had other plans for me. I went from 5'4" to 5'11" in the span of roughly fourteen months, and I went from an A cup to a DD cup in about the same amount of time. I settled into my hips later in high school and I remember being so disappointed in what I looked like. All of my friends were tiny little waifs, 110 pound creatures who could jump into pools without splashing the water and be picked up by their boyfriends. I was the giant troll, and I somehow thought it was my fault. It took me a long time to get used to my body, and even longer to fall in love with it. But one day I started incorporating my mirror regimen into my morning schedule. Before taking a shower, I would spend two or three minutes staring at my body. And slowly but surely, I started to appreciate it. One nipple is bigger than the other. I have this weird indentation in my hips that's just part of my natural bone structure. I have some odd skin discolourations. No matter how much sleep I get I will always have dark circles under my eyes (I swear I was born with those, and no amount of cucumber or caffeine will fix them). But all of those things make me, me.

I know that sounds sappy. The whole "love your body" movement seems to be forced down our throats everywhere we look, especially for our millennial generation. But the sooner you begin that process, the sooner you will start enjoying the physicality that life-- particularly sex-- has to offer us.

xx,

Gemma