Shake it on the subway

Imagine you're sitting on the subway reading your dose of Metro and you look up to see a guy with a fro dancing. "WTF." But then someone else joins him. And another. And another. There is no music playing in the subway car, but they all have their MP3 players on and are dancing like its nobody's business.

That would be pretty damn wild, right. I dare say it would be fucking awesome.

That's what Improv Toronto is going to be doing this Saturday, from 3-6 p.m.

Its their second annual Subway Dance Party and if you're brave enough to dance in front of a car full of everyday commuters you can meet up with the dance crew at 3 p.m. sharp, at the giant horseman statue in Queen's Park.

From there everyone divides into jivable teams and heads to Musuem station. Teams will board separate subway cars and scatter throughout the train, acting as if no one knows one another.

Then one by one, gradually, the dancing begins, all the way down to Union and up to Wellesley station. The entire team simultaneously evacuates and crosses to the other side of the tracks, following the loop back to Musuem.
If this sounds like the type of body-shaking mission that interests you, email http://improvintoronto.com/contact-us/ to get involved.

Apparently 200 were involved last year and its very feasible that participants will swell in ranks. The goal of Improv Toronto is to "pull pranks" that jolt reality for everyday people in a fun, entertaining, positive way.

They have been the masterminds behind some really amazing stunts around the city, like the infamous no-pants subway ride. So feel free to jump around, get down, and move to your own (outwardly silent) music on Saturday, if you dare.

Finding the perfect fit

I was just browsing the Good for Her blog when I chanced upon this handy, informative, “Learning in the Bedroom,” video by Renee Pilgrim, a sex educator.

I met Pilgrim at a Ryerson Women’s Centre workshop when she announced quite candidly that she was going to give us a gander at her vulva.

As beneficial as up-close and personal workshops are I don’t think any of us ladies were quite ready for that experience.

So I let out an inner sigh of relief when she explained she wasn’t serious.

She was quite a fabulous workshop leader and it was a pleasant surprise to find her here, giving an instructional how-to segment about choosing your first vibrator and all the nuances of making that decision.

Texture, or curves? Rotating beads, or powerful vibrations? Slim or thick? We have so many choices. I love her hair cut reference, and like a new do; you might grow out of one type of toy when it no longer suits your changing sexual appetite.

It’s never a bad idea to make a list, research, and browse the options out there. Sex is about exploration of your needs and desires. I might just have to do some shopping.

Cunt Censorship

An episode of The Doctors entitled, “The Vagina Show”, featuring a female panel with Margaret Cho as a co-host was scheduled to air on January 26th. But it didn’t. Real women on the show discussed their medical and sexual queries/thoughts about their nether regions in an open, often hilarious dialogue.

Want to know why it was cancelled? According to Margaret Cho’s blog, the network thought it was “too racy” for mainstream television. I think it’s very unfortunate that today we still cannot have open, positive, honest dialogue about our pussies. Frankly, this is a perfect example of how society (perpetuated by the media) has built up an attitude of shame around the vagina.

Most women are made to feel uncomfortable discussing what’s going on “down there.” As young girls we often aren’t encouraged to even name it, calling it a “private area,” and we certainly aren’t encouraged to touch it and get any sort of pleasure out of it. It becomes a topic shrouded in mystery, the likes of which are only (if at all) reserved for whispered slumber party misinformation or rumours. I feel that for young women in their early teens, any discussion surrounding masturbation is completely stifled and most of us are left to grapple with the concept through whatever sexual exposure we experience. Often it’s based on clumsy, inexperienced boyfriend groping, late night Showcase TV, X-rated website discoveries, or pre-pubescent fantasies.

Even in high school there isn’t any real, adequate communication on the subject, unless you consider a few diagrams and some basic renditions about heterosexual penile insertion into our lady parts to be “sex education”. It’s almost as if women are influenced by a sort of “Don’t ask, don’t tell” operating vagina framework.

Being the open kind of person that I am, I often tried talking to my girlfriends in high school about self pleasure and all other matters of pussy maintenance, but it was often met with giggles, or a refusal to breach the subject. I knew a lot of “closet masturbators,” who refused to acknowledge it for most of our friendship. I can’t help but feel that this type of shame in discussing our genitals and pleasure is ultimately contributing to a devaluation of our sexual knowledge and needs.
Refusing to talk about it can also lead to misinformed choices. Sadly, it’s becoming almost mandatory for women to shave everything off their pussies just to appeal to male desire, whether they are comfortable with it or not. I’ve chanced upon a fair share of Cosmo-esque magazines encouraging women to do so. These wonderful “Please your man” tips tend to spew out derogatory statements like, “He doesn’t want to cough up a hair ball” etc. The unfortunate thing is that many girls won’t question this kind of rhetoric in mainstream media. If it is coined as a “normal”, desirable, beauty procedure that will ensure a male’s approval in the bedroom then many girls will jump right on the bandwagon in hopes of acceptance.

The main reason people choose not to discuss a topic is discomfort or fear. I think the more confident we feel about our bodies and our sexuality the more prone we are to discussing the dreaded V-word which “much must not be named.” That’s why young girls should be encouraged to ask questions about their womanhood and receive extensive education about everything from dildo’s, to yeast infections, to shaving, to piercing, to everything else that is beautiful in between our thighs.
If we aren’t allowed to talk about our cunts in a respectful, educational, comedic, appreciative, constructive way, then I think it’s worth thinking about what is influencing this attitude of pussy obscurity. I feel that it’s completely ludicrous to silence discussion of our bodies for being deemed “too racy,” when the aim is to promote a healthy understanding of our vaginas. What would be really wonderful is if they never shut up.

R.I.P. unwanted bras

On February 13th Secrets From Your Sister can help you lay your dead bras to rest. If you bring an old, poor fitting, mostly unworn, clean bra to the store you can get 25% of a new, regular priced bra, which I must say is pretty darn fantastic (since I have my eye on a cute little polka dotted one.)

Secrets From Your Sister has 2 locations in Toronto. The 560 Bloor St. West store is open from 10am to 9pm on Friday, and the 2501 Yonge St. shop will be in business from 11am till 9pm, but you want to get there before 8pm, when their bra-fitting room list will wrap up.

Its also a nudge to clean out all the neglected brassieres that gather dust in our closets. Some bras are past any kind of salvation and will be put out of their misery, but the rest will be donated to Sistering, a Toronto group of community workers that help homeless and low-income women in the city to find housing, transportation options, and utilize services like laundry, showers and life skills workshops.

Not only will you be getting a fab-u-lous bra, you'll be donating clothing to women who could really use it and will apreciate it. Valentines Day is right around the corner, so for some, a little something that makes you feel sexy is a nice perk.

It's less like a funeral and more like a celebration.

Naughty Crafts on V-day

Want something kinky, different or erotic from art? How ‘bout edible liquorice panties, knitted balloon bras, purses fashioned to resemble lovely lady anatomy or Karma sutra buttons that will education curious onlookers on your morning commute? Well you are in luck.
Come as you are, an accessible, inclusive, co-op sex store in Toronto is holding the Erotic Arts and Crafts Fair on Valentines Day at the Gladstone Hotel. It’s been going on since 2007, and it is Canada’s first and only crafts fair promoting DIY sensual expression, which makes me pretty proud and pleased to be living in Toronto.

You can head down to 1214 Queen St. West between noon and 8 p.m. to pick up some hot, affordable crafts that might titillate you or tickle the fancy of someone dear to you. I love when people get creative and unleash the sexual side of art, whether its lingerie, sculpture, photography, baked goods, clothing or accessories. Here is a video from the first annual fair.
It goes to show that art needn’t always be serious. It can by campy, flirty or just plain hilarious. I might have to consider selling some of my dirty cookies next time….. But I doubt I can compete with an erotic baking business like Frostitution. Their vagina cakes and sugar tits look delicious. Babble, an adorable button company behind the instructional Karma sutra designs also branches out into scrabble-esque pieces spelling kinky words, pierced nipples buttons, and emergency condoms to pin where you’ll need ‘em.

So take a gander, there might just be something to suit your tastes. Because V-day doesn’t have to be about satisfying your lover, it should also be about satisfying yourself.

Journey of bra self-discovery

Bras are tricky things. You think you know your size…then somebody turns your world upside down. The phenomenon has happened to me twice. The first occasion was in gr. 9 with some girlfriends. We were changing in one of their bedrooms and I was wearing a bra I had ordered from the Sears catalogue. It was a B cup, but resembled a C cup. I’ll never forget being told that it was obviously too big on me. It was a troubling occasion, and afterwards I became very conscious of how small I was. Every pool trip, every school dance, and every change room in the mall verified what I had been told (and began to think).

You have small, insignificant breasts.

La Senza also pointed this out whenever I looked up at their walls of tanned, plump, perfect breasts. What confused me was that a not-so-helpful employee at La Senza had “measured” me. As in, she quickly and ineptly placed measuring tape around my waist and breasts and told me I was a B cup. That was it. Simple, I thought. It was to be my category. I’m a B. So that’s what I bought, unquestioningly, although I had a sneaking suspicious that I was more in the A category. Bra shopping turned into a strange type of deceitful activity. It never felt quite right. Then I started purchasing A-cup bras that weren’t completely comfortable. “There,” I thought, “This is what I should be wearing.”
Then I visited a wonderful boutique this weekend called Secrets from your Sister, at the corner of Bloor and Bathurst, and my notions of bra shopping completely changed all over again. But this time for the better.

A bra sale was underway, so of course the place was packed with ladies lusting after the perfect lingerie on racks. We signed up for a bra fitting and set out to investigate the merchandise. Pink and lacy, black with polka dots, and a majestic, red striped beauty looked down at us from walls of brassieres.
When my name was called I was ushered into the back of the store behind a curtain into a partitioned off sanctuary of bra self-discovery. The woman measuring me was named Deb, and after adjusting a measuring tape around my frame and bust in a deliberate, unhurried manner she proceeded to bring me bras to try on, much like a waitress serving delicate pastries. The first was a Betsey Johnson, black, lacy looking number with pink bows connecting parted straps at my shoulders. The size was a B cup, 32 waist. The bra I had arrived wearing that day was an A cup, 34 waist, so I was a little skeptical.
I tried it on and it fit like a dream, but the band was a little snugger than I was used to. Deb returned and carefully adjusted the straps, looking it over carefully, like a shrewd-eyed craftsman. She told me to shrug my shoulders, lift my arms, or pull them across my breasts to determine whether the fit felt comfortable while I was in motion, or if it rose onto my breast tissue. When I stretched my right arm over to the left, the cup, which rose a bit high, poked into my arm. So that was a no go.

As more bras were procured I learned that there are many variables I had never considered when buying bras. For starters, the waistband of the bra is the foundation or the anchor of the entire unit. If it doesn’t sit parallel to your waist, or it isn’t snug enough, it will rise up and so will the straps, no longer supporting your breasts. As Deb so aptly put it, “You might as well pay to hold them up with your hands all day.” So apparently choosing a 34 waist had been a mistake, which Deb proved by stretching the band out from my waist to show how easily it would move up my back. Strike number one, but at least I was learning. Bra bands do tend to stretch anyway, explained Deb, so a snug fit is the smartest way to go.
She also surprised me when she delivered a chocolate-brown C cup bra, which covered my breasts entirely, making me feel more comfortable, if a little lost in a larger cup. I told Deb how I had always felt that a C cup was for bigger girls, which I was obviously not. She explained how mainstream stores don't provide adequate sizes, and that women with larger breasts are often stuck wearing double D’s when in reality they are closer to a G cup. Bra size does not determine your breast size, she explained. If one day you wear a B cup, that doesn’t make you a B cup. Bra designs vary. One may fit you in a C or a B, depending on a number of variables, but the comfort is what counts, not how small or big you believe you are. She said something that I found quite poetic…as though it could have belonged on a brassiere-shaped plaque, “You wear the bra, the bra doesn’t wear you.”
What I took away from the experience was an understanding that bra sizes shouldn’t determine how I feel about my breasts, any more than my jean size should influence how I feel about my legs. It helped me to feel better about myself, and closer to banishing one more self negating attitude. Deb gave me a lot of great advice, and her unwavering attention to educate me, find me the perfect fit, and adjust each bra so that it sat properly on my body (without pressuring me to purchase anything) felt like a pampering experience. Some of us can feel so uptight about others seeing us or coming into personal contact with us while we’re in our lingerie (unless it’s a lover) but somehow I felt comfortable, and less self-conscious than I thought I would be.
I definitely suggest that every woman get a professional bra-fitting, especially if you have any doubts about your size, or if you just want to learn more about what you’re wearing every day to hold up your ta-ta’s. The atmosphere at Secrets from your Sister is very friendly and open, with a beautiful décor, helpful employees and very lovely bras, even though they can be a bit pricey (keep a lookout for sales!). Think of it as something positive you can do for your breasts, your body, or even your self esteem.