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My relationship with my vulva has always been a tumultuous one… I was molested as a child, so from an early age I had a distinct resentment for my lady parts. My mother had always been open with her sexuality, but when it came to my own I was forbidden from exploring. I have always had a passion for other women’s virtuous flowers, but I have always been so ashamed of my own. In my early teens I was raped at gun point by people whom I had thought were my friends. My relationship with my vulva had officially been severed. I spent years with a complex about my own body, I had no idea how to be myself, let alone love myself. It took until my adulthood to experience a natural orgasm, one not forced upon me by someone else with hard, cold, plastic implements.
One day I had mistakenly happened upon my angel of mercy, a very dear friend of mine had not only introduced me to the beauty of vulva art; but she had also taught me how to court my own sexuality. That was how it started, with a small polymer clay necklace handed to me by a friend. My vulva and I had started slow, for the first time since puberty I had bothered to look at her, explore her, and get to know her. She was beautiful, and by coming to this realization, I had discovered that I too, am beautiful. Since that point, I haven’t looked back! My vulva and I are good friends, my small, pink, curvy, fleshy extension of my inner most self.

-KiraButterfly Metamorphosis