- #DIFFERENCE BETWEEN INNIE AND OUTIE LABIA FULL#
- #DIFFERENCE BETWEEN INNIE AND OUTIE LABIA PLUS#
- #DIFFERENCE BETWEEN INNIE AND OUTIE LABIA PROFESSIONAL#
- #DIFFERENCE BETWEEN INNIE AND OUTIE LABIA FREE#
Obviously it took longer than that before I could even contemplate sex – up to six weeks, said the surgeon, gravely. Dosed up on meds, I hid myself away over the weekend, watching with naive curiosity and pride as my little cross-stitched labia began to heal. I didn’t want them thinking they could change my mind. I still didn’t confide in any friends because I didn’t want to explain myself. I booked a few days off work and took myself to the clinic. For some people, a labiaplasty might sound like a huge decision, but doubt never crossed my mind. At up to £4,000, it’s not cheap, but I’d squirrelled away a modest nest egg and figured that I’d wasted more over the years on overpriced cocktails, designer fripperies and unnecessary travel – none of which had made any lasting impact on my happiness. I’ve always climaxed easily so that was a no brainer for me. However, he was reluctant to remove too much of the flesh surrounding my clit in case it inhibited my ability to orgasm. He asked if I wanted to save any of the 'lips'. He stretched my inner labia out like a butterfly (Jesus, I could have taken flight with those wings) and it was confirmed: 'Yes, your labia minora are larger than average.'
#DIFFERENCE BETWEEN INNIE AND OUTIE LABIA PROFESSIONAL#
That said, just allowing a male to inspect my vulva – even in a professional capacity – was terrifying. I was taking steps to change and it felt fantastic. The first surgery appointment was liberating. My surgery was never about having the perfect vulva, it was about allowing myself to live in sexual freedom. However, I never for a moment considered that this spectrum of flowers, all different shapes, sizes, colours and textures could all be beautiful.Īfter more than 10 years of hiding my vulva, getting panic attacks when men tried to touch me intimately - or, God forbid, go down on me – I just couldn’t take it anymore. I reckon I studied more vulvas in my year of research than most porn addicts manage in a lifetime. I combed the site daily, trawling through labiaplasty ‘before and after’ pictures. In this portal to perfection, reviews, community questions chats and cosmetic procedures are dissected and absorbed.
#DIFFERENCE BETWEEN INNIE AND OUTIE LABIA PLUS#
I was too embarrassed to mention it to friends at the time (I was never good at vulnerability), plus there’s absolutely no way I’d have confided in relatives – we’re just not that sort of family.įor years I did my research on the sly, then a platform called RealSelf appeared, a rabbit hole of all things plastic surgery-related.
#DIFFERENCE BETWEEN INNIE AND OUTIE LABIA FULL#
Fast forward to the 'burger and fries' incident, past a late education in porn, an awakening to degrading blokey banter and the crushing realisation that not all vulvas are made equal and I had full blown body dysmorphia. That was my first inkling of trouble 'downstairs'. I was walking around with a heaviness between my legs and couldn’t have sex again until things had calmed down. It was as if they had been inflated, like those party balloons that are twisted and tied into the shape of poodles. What I did notice, however, was that occasionally, after intense sex, my inner lips (otherwise known as the labia minora), which already protruded from the outer lips (the labia majora), would bruise and swell.
I’d never watched porn or seen many other vulvas so I didn’t even realise they were all different. I guess he was hardly an anatomical expert either at that age. My first love at 16 never mentioned how I looked – whether he noticed or not, I’ll never know. On the face of it, I had nothing to worry about – and for a long time I didn’t. Boys found me attractive and I embraced life as one of the 'pretty girls', with plenty of moochy coffee dates, dancefloor snogs and illicit fumbles. I was so busy analysing what the world could see, I hadn’t even considered that my vulva might look different too.ĭespite my anxieties, as I grew into my teenage years, I flourished. My arms weren’t toned and my face was too round. My legs were too chunky, my boobs too small. I guess it’s natural to start to feel self-conscious about your body as a teenager, but before I became sexually active, it was all about my size.
#DIFFERENCE BETWEEN INNIE AND OUTIE LABIA FREE#
One minute I felt free and happy to frolic totally starkers and then. I can’t place the exact moment I started to become aware of my body.
Giggling, he said: “Do you want fries with that?” I died. Suddenly he was up close and personal with my vulva. Tipsy as I was, I didn’t have the coordination or reaction time to rearrange into a more ‘flattering’ position. As he traced his tongue down my stomach and twisted my knickers down I started to panic.
Much of my early twenties are a haze but a one-night stand with some idiot called Jake has lived with me forever.