How long did I hide under blankets with the lights out? Years. This could be the reason I am divorced. My ex-husband never saw me naked.

In my opinion I wasn’t a “sexy thang.” I was a breeder who made children – beautiful ones, but I had zero libido and I wasn’t interested in doing anything about it. Now I sell dildos, anal numbing cream and bondage sheets. It’s called coming into yourself – literally.

The problem was the idea of love was always focused outward – onto others. Crushes, first loves, my kids, chocolate. I mean I cared about myself. I cleaned up well – I brushed my teeth three times a day…I just never went down “there” to check on things.

I was twenty-one before anyone even told me it was a normal thing for women to do. I was in college sitting in a room full of young women who were bragging about rubbing one out. Now while this may sound like soft porn to you, I was baffled. I apparently fit the 2% demographic that never ever.

I don’t blame my mother for never telling me about the joys of masturbation. Can’t imagine there was ever a segway from pass the potatoes to –  here, you’ll need some fresh double AAs.

I blame the internet for not existing and Mattel for bending Barbie’s arms so she couldn’t reach “there.”

And then I got real brave. I wanted to know what the big deal was once and for all. So I tried – and failed miserably. My hands just wouldn’t…wander. My head was full of shame and embarrassment – even without being raised Catholic. I just had ingrained sexual shame. And it lasted for a long, long time. Until I bought my first vibrator.

Technically you aren’t touching yourself as much as you’re finessing a speed dial.

It helped me in so many ways. I slept better, managed stress, entertained fantasies and mostly accepted myself as a sexual woman. But I still kept it hidden under the sheets and only used it alone.

It wasn’t until after my fortieth birthday that I started to really accept life above the duvet. I stopped giving a shit about things like shame and wondering if dead relatives could see me (so sorry Nanna.) And I owned it. A good partner encourages the use of toys because honestly it gets the job done and anyone can benefit from mutual vibration.

Now I want to empower other women to educate themselves about their lady parts. Divorced, married, single or dating it doesn’t matter – you have to take care of your bits and your sanity. And don’t cheap out on the batteries – it only leads to throwing your silicone boyfriend across the room.

You want to get lucky in more ways than one? Enter to win a Heart Massager – Heart Shaped Heat Pack to get warmed up. Enter on my website at


Angila has been writing since 1979 when she received her first diary, filling it with boy crazy nonsense and girly drama. It wasn't until the 21st century that she discovered writing was a healing tool to release inner chaos. When Facebook was invented Angila, who is an attention whore reveled in receiving likes and shares. Comments started pouring in that she should write a book. Knowing her lack of follow through and commitment issues, Angila ignored the advice and chose to blog. Detached From Logic is where she currently vomits her creative juices and allows the voices in her head a digital soap box. Her life long dream of having fans came when wordpress announced she had one follower. Unlike the stalkers in her life this one felt acceptable and welcomed.

1 Comment

  1. This hits hard! I just started masturbating last year at the age of 29. The shame of dead relatives was my main thing (still pops in my head now and again)

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