There is something that I have to get off my chest.
It's not the kind of thing I usually write about, but some things just need to be said. Look away right now if you are a bit embarrassed about talking about 'down there'. Yep, I'm going there.
At the shops the other day a group of teenage boys were hassling a group of teenage girls. A timeless, even necessary way to spend your days when you're fifteen. Nothing wrong with that.
Except, there is something that bothered me when I was fifteen and it sure as hell is bothering me now.
The 'fish' thing.
The implication that a vagina smells like fish and all the revolting metaphors that go along with it has always riled me like you wouldn't believe. The way boys talk about vaginas is the first time in a girl's life where she is suddenly made to feel self-conscious about something that is perfectly natural and healthy. Suddenly your 'girl bits' aren't attractive, aren't nice and are something to feel ashamed of.
It's not okay. Especially when we all know that the only thing that makes a woman's vagina smell fishy is having sex with men. Did you hear that, Teenage Boys at the Shops?
I don't know how you change teenage boys insistence on making a girl feel bad about her own vagina. I don't know how you change teenage girls so they treat teenage boys with the utter disdain that they so completely deserve. All the time. Until they're at least 24.
We women put up a lot in order to keep the boys happy, but surely not this. Having a vagina likened to a fishing wharf on a sweltering summer day is not one of the things I'm prepared to listen to ever again without saying something.
So you Teenage Boys at the Shops, listen here. Next time I hear you saying such filthy, inappropriate things about girls' vaginas, I'm coming for you. I'm coming for you and I'm bringing 25 years of pent up rage with me. You've got no business whatsoever talking loudly about a girl's vagina, let alone the things you think it's okay to say. You should be absolutely ashamed of yourselves. A girl's vagina is hers alone to get to know and talk about, you don't get to have a say. Ever.
And if you keep going, I can think of another really good use for a wharf on a hot day.
Ever had something you need to get off your chest?
Ever had a particularly nasty 'fish' metaphor thrown your way?
[Image via Letters from a Fishbowl, source unknown. Please let me know if it's yours!]