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  • My V is Sweet Enough, Thanks Very Much

    Does your vagina smell like a sixteen-year-old boy’s cum sock…?

    …Is your body count so high, it resembles a scene from the Haunting of Hill House…?

    …Tired of your boyfriend pulling a DJ Khaled, while simultaneously expecting you to show out like Mia Khalifa, night after night?

    Then worry no more!

    It’s time to Throw the Whole Boyfriend Away!

    (Just kidding. Wouldn’t want to work against the patriarchy. Ew.)

    You guessed it. It’s time to talk about the abhorrently misogynistic vitamin company (yep, this is my Tati-style monologue) My Sweet V. Just as I suspected the age of FemFresh and vaginal deodorant (which is a real thing you can absolutely still buy) was slowly beginning to make tracks, the general consumer was suddenly slapped in the face with this cold fish of bullshit.

    Articulately described on their official website as ‘an amazing supplement that will safely alter the taste of your vaginal secretions and make you’… just as I surmised, ‘tasty’. This vibrant, über-vitamin makes the bold statement that our year-eleven dreams of tasting like Palma Violets and Pepsi Cola (thanks for that one, Lana Del Rey) look set to become an achievable reality. If you have enough disposable income to spend $40 on a 60-capsule bottle of vitamins, of course.

    Naturally, a hefty number of cynical women like myself scoffed at the idea. Of course a few overpriced fruity capsules aren’t going to alter your entire genetic makeup in order for your ejaculant to taste like sunshine and rainbows (or, more accurately – pineapple and acai). The idea really puts me in mind of that Baby Stink Breath clip from The Simpsons…

    There is a danger, though. Not every person with a vagina is going to be looking at this through the eyes of a cynic. There’s a very specific reason why doubtful brands like Flat Tummy Co. and Kylie Skin are in an abundance of profit. Deep down, we all want to be Wonder Women of Instagram. We want our hair to be as flat as our stomachs, our thighs as chunky as our wallets, our breath; perfume and vaginas to smell as sweet as our saturated personalities. We want to be unobtainable, display-only demi-goddesses; enclosed in glass cases for all the world to see. When a sexual partner decides they don’t want to give you oral sex, it stings. It’s an ultimate dent in the ego of a person controlled by the patriarchy. So much so that we begin to believe that our fluids tasting like fluids is an abnormality.

    When we then compare these forced ideologies – those which we’ve been taught throughout our teenage years – to those of a typical man; we’re shocked to find out that they often push themselves on us anyway. They don’t care what they smell or taste like. There’s zero expectation for their ejaculant to resemble a fruit salad selection of delights. They simply expect us to bow down and perform.

    Every single woman is a demi-goddess in her own way… except, possibly Tanya Gold. If men are allowed to taste like salt, iron, toilet paper, dishwater, battery acid… then I’m sure your V is sweet enough, thanks very much!

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