Hells yes. What a superb plan. This slut is all about voting AND nudes.

Jessica Simps has created a win-win exchange: send a picture of yourself voting to votes4nudes (on Instagram) and in turn receive a picture of a naked so-and-so because bewbz. You can also follow their tumblr (which is less likely to be taken down by the man). I will be enthusiastically participating in this campaign as a slut who believes sexuality is a positive thing and if nudes are the incentive to get our political system into vaguely better shape, I am proud to be a Canadian.






When I Was Your Age….!

This is a recent article I wrote for the upcoming gutterbird NEST zine (an awesome publication that promotes artists in Toronto). They will be having their next issue release party on May 1st. You should be there. I will be there.

When I was eight I was having sex dreams. I also humped my teddy bears. Yeah. I said it. No shame. BUT I WAS EIGHT.

Our current understanding of anything to with children and sex is that, to them, it is explained in a manner that is all very mechanical and logical and maybe connected to this distant non-understandable concept of ‘love’ that our parents talk about, blushing and stuttering all the while.

The dreams I had were comprised of rather obvious symbols and images that would depict what the subconscious of a hypersexual eight year old might resemble; enlarged genitalia that you traveled through to get to other realms – but needed a password before entering – and strange naked games in which there were always boys, naked, jumping on top of me.


To be frank – I have no idea if I understood any of this. I knew it made me feel all tingly and happy and excitingly naughty, so I didn’t complain, because, why WOULD you complain about something that made you feel all those things… Not that I could control what I dreamt about anyhow… Sex was just running rampant in my randy, young subconscious mind.

What also happened when I was 8: I found my mother and her boyfriend’s underwear on the couch one Saturday morning when I went to go watch the Weekenders and Sabrina the Teenage Witch. It was mind-boggling. What on earth would they be doing taking their underpants off in the living room? Let alone taking them off TOGETHER?!

I knew this likely meant that I should recognize my mother and her boyfriend as sexual entities in their own selves (as they seemed to be reenacting the naked games I was having in my dreams) – but quite like how my mother did not want to imagine her young, innocent daughter as a being with a libido, I was in denial about every adult having a libido.

When my parents divorced, my grandmother bought my father about 200 different types of condoms for Christmas. I looked away and chose to ignore the fact that my father may have been a sexual creature.

Which is hilarious, because I was eight.

What is sexuality to an eight year old?

I remember watching a girl very gently, softly and carefully focus on braiding another girl’s hair and feeling ‘funny’. I remember doing ‘back tickles’ late at night with my female cousins, extracting pleasure from the sensitivity of light fingernails on the skin from our necks down to the waistline of our pajama pants. I remember seeing a flash of testicles in grade one when a fellow classmate was doing sommersaults and again, feeling ever so ‘funny’. I remember trading candy hearts with a boy named Luke and thinking we would get married.

This is not dangerous stuff. This is nothing that we need to be terrified of for our offspring. To me, these instances strike me as moments of intense sensuality that derive not from genital stimulation, but an ability to appreciate and experience pleasure.

I feel the need to paint you a picture: I was the quietest, shyest girl in my class. No boys had crushes on me. I became a flaming red ball of blushing embarrassment if ever asked to speak in front of more than one person at a time. I didn’t keep up with the latest fashions – at ten, I tip-toed around the schoolyard in purple velvet pants and an over-sized pink teddy bear sweater to hide the swollen nipples mother nature hatefully handed over to me.

What I am hoping this characterization of myself as a child will do is to negate that image of a half-naked, extroverted tomboy who went around asking if she could see down every 9-year-old boys pants, and her hand always between her legs regardless of the fanciness of the restaurant.

Something is okay to recognize: children are sexual beings. Not just the flagrantly obvious horny little boys – but also the quiet, shy timid girl in the corner.


Now I’m not saying we should toss away all thought patterns we have on the subject matter. Throwing in the towel and just letting our kids masturbate all over the place likely won’t solve any of their internal sexual reservations that most of them will have when they reach adulthood.

However, it would solve a lot of our future generations psychological turmoil if we acknowledge that children are already pre-programmed for sex long before we even have a chance to explain to them that it has to do with a bed, two individuals who look at each other longingly and lovingly, and with mushing our genitals together.


VUVLA Original

VULVA Original is the smell of a vagina in a small vial.

as a side note: the very very small bottle is covering the slit of the vulva (most of the advertisements for this product cover the 'genital region'. this is an idea of how we understand nudity in media - this is not inappropriate... why would it be if a woman had hair/larger inner lips/a bigger pubic mound?

This product came out a few years ago. I am just discovering it now. My reaction?

No. Just no…

I mean, they get like maybe five points for the sake of hilarity and that fact that this is actually in existent out there in the world. But mostly just lots of no.

I’m into people liking weird shit.

I am not necessarily going to like it with you, unless I really like you and choose to go there with you, but otherwise – here’s to you! Let your freak flag fly as long as you aren’t hurting anyone and it’s consensual.

If you’re into smells and sniffin’ things – that’s cool. I love stickin’ my nose into a man’s armpit and inhaling like my life depends on it. No shame. Man pits smell like a delicious mixture of lumberjack and old spice.

Smell fetishes are actually a thing, too: Olfactophilia.

(But they pretty much have words for every fetish imaginable… Just find the latin name for the thing and add ‘philia’. Here’s a decent list of fetishes.)

So cool. Whatever, you’re into the way pussy smells. Like, big time. So much so that all of your dreams have come true when you discover that there is a company called ‘viva eros’ that has dedicated time and ‘cost-intensive research’ into creating a product that will allow you to PURCHASE the scent of a woman in a small vial that you can get off to at your desire. For your desire.

I could be okay with this. Really. I’d high five the company and be all “You guys are pretty epic and I cannot believe someone funded this project….”

But here is where it all goes downhill:

Knowing this, not only men, who intensify and satisfy their own sexual pleasure by their own smelling pleasure are our main target, but also women, who use VULVA Original to make themselves even more attractive by using the perfect vaginal scent.

because my vagina smells like roses...

Labiaplasty is becoming one of the most popular and wanted types of cosmetic surgery in North America. Doctors and specialists refer to it as ‘vaginal rejuvenation‘ – removing portions of ones genitals is also called ‘female mutilation‘.

To be clear – yes, I am very against any type of surgery to alter/’fix’/rejuvenate ones privates (unless it is reassignment surgery). To be clear – yes, I am against cosmetic surgery (unless it is for physical health purposes)/(this is the purpose of my Body Pride workshops, for every single woman who comes into my home to recognize how completely amazing they are AS they are).

You can watch a documentary called ‘The Perfect Vagina’ here if you’d like to get a better understanding of what I am talking about.

So when we are faced with another product that provides women with another way to hold disdain against their bodies – something for which they have no control over – I, for the life of me, cannot get on board.

If you gave 16-year-old Caitlin an open wish-list of the things she could change about her body… I don’t even know where I would’ve started. Tummy tucks to get rid of the ‘dip and rise’ factor of my midriff (my stomach is not ‘flat’ – nor will it ever be), liposuction on my arms and thighs, collagen for my lips, pubic bone reduction (because my pubic mound does not just flatly transition into my lower stomach) – the list goes on.

Thankfully, I began the ‘fake it till ya make it’ methodology of living very early. If you asked me when I was 16 what I’d like to change about myself, I’d have said: “Nothing”, because I wanted to be the confident, courageous woman I only imagined, and I wanted people to think that WAS who I was.

Which is the part that tears me apart inside, because I have had a few comments along the lines of “Well, yeah, if I looked like you I’d be naked on the internet, too.”

The ‘fake it’ method, it works. Use it. Because the place I never thought I would reach – I’ve reached it.

But I would’ve said the same thing six years ago. (Probably another HUGE reason why young women should not be allowed to receive cosmetic surgery – again, unless it is for physical health purposes or reassignment.)

If, at 16, I had known about this product that advertises the ‘perfect scent’ of a vagina… I likely would have never let a man gone done on me. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LIKE ORAL SEX?!

A lot.

Not too mention, HOW CREEPY IS THIS GUY?!

As a side note, I did try to think of a possible plus of this product other than a fetish thing, and one of the options I thought might be useful would be for post-op trans-women. If you are a post-op trans woman, and are comfortable speaking frankly on such topics, I would love to speak with you.

Body Pride: A Letter From Your Photographer

The beautiful thing about Body Pride parties is how quickly every girl forgets she’s naked.

Welcomed with warm smiles and open arms, Caitlin offers a glass of vino and seats you in a circle among girls just as anonymous as you; the atmosphere is quiet but full of anticipation. The floor is cozy with a soft spread of blankets and the twinkling white lights adorning the walls provide a level of security that can only be attained with a nurturing intent. In the middle of the circle lies a fantastic spread of munchies (all of which are pro-veggie and health conscious – most of which I generally wind up chopping and plating), as well as the book with veteran Body Pride sisters smiling up at you from the clean white pages, their love-filled manifestos to their bodies hand-written beneath their photographs. Continue reading “Body Pride: A Letter From Your Photographer”

Dear Caitlin Of A Year Ago

Dear Caitlin of a year ago:

Love is harder than you think it is.

I know, right now, you are having a lot of trouble digesting the idea that you are actually capable of love. I know certain people have instilled in you recently that you may want more than random sexual excursions – and you do, and maybe you won’t admit it to them because your path is the path you are on right now, and these random sexual excursions are teaching you things of incredible value.

I know, right now, that love is really hard for you. Not being in it, but the idea of getting there. It seems that you have great difficulty just placing it anywhere, and this is fair considering your history with the thing… Love, that is.

Right now you are trying to shape in your mind what it might be like for you to fall in love. You imagine how absolutely madly passionate it will be. You do not doubt for a moment that you would be capable of some form of monogamy if you tried.

Dear Caitlin of a year ago: love is a lot harder than that.

A year from where you are, you will try to be a girlfriend.

People around you will convince you that love takes on this peculiar form that involves delving into your own history and pulling out all the potentially damaging memories that occurred in your past and calling them ‘issues’, so that when you cry at the movies, your partner will understand that is because of a deep-seated fear of abandonment from your parent’s divorce when you were five…

People will convince you that relationships are built upon conversations. How do you feel? Tell me what you’re thinking. Are you okay? How was your day? Why won’t you talk to me? You will be in constant state of frenzy because you aren’t sure you recognize how screwed up you actually are…

You will love all other boys while loving this one boy, but you will keep it in your pants and call it determination. You will think you can do this out of sheer willpower to prove you can be monogamous, to prove you can be the girlfriend.

You will drink two glasses of wine in order to ‘pour your heart out’ because you have no idea if you really want to start connecting your ‘Daddy Issues’ with your partners financial status, but this is what monogamy is. This is how people interact.

And you lie in bed with this person, sleeping soundly with your orange earplugs sticking out from your head, and you will think “Look at me go! I’m doing it! I can be a girlfriend.”

And you will listen blankly to stories about your partners day and then try really hard to remember the names of the people he just mentioned to prove that you were listening. And you can mark ‘plus one’ on that wedding invitation and wear matching colors and introduce him as your ‘boyfriend’… Boyfriend… What an icky word. But you will use it anyhow.

And then. When everything is going smoothly, there will come a point when you are sitting across from someone you love dearly with all your heart. And this someone is not your boyfriend, and all of the rules of monogamy are marching around your head with picket signs reminding you of how to stay in line, how to be a decent member of society. But the moment is so intense and incredible that you cannot hold back how important this person means to you… and you whack down the pickets and aim for his lips and then… you don’t know what rules to follow anymore.

You don’t want to hurt anyone.

But you will.

You will really wish that someone was here telling you what to do. You will wish this so hard even though you know, somewhere in your head, it is there.

You will wonder if you will feel trapped in six months time. You wonder if you will be okay being alone. You will wonder how hard you should have fought. You will wonder if you are worth it.

Dear Caitlin of a year ago:

It is okay to be wherever you are at whatever phase you are at.

Because it happens as it happens. Life will give you what it gives you and trying to rearrange the order of things just won’t work. Desire will come galloping through your barriers and kiss you softly and you’ll remember why you love it all over again and get swept up in sweaty beds and wine drinking and dousing yourself in the essence of someone just for one night.

It is okay to stop and question the pre-arranged relationship constructs that society has built up for you before you were even born. It is okay to love multiple people. It is okay to hold one person’s hand and mean it, and then hold another person’s hand and mean it just as much. It is okay to have sex. It’s getting to the core of someone. Seeing them naked. The dichotomy between who they are when their clothes are on, and when their clothes are off. It is also okay to like sex just for the delicious carnality of it.

Mostly, want I am trying to tell you, is that it is okay to be a slut.



I mean, we all know I like to put myself on a pedestal when it comes to the information I hand out in my sexy time blog. But seriously, this one thing I learned and have been stewing over since I have learned it, has impacted not only my sex life, but everything to do with relationships. Most of this information came from a woman named Betty Martin, who is way more experienced and bucketloads more appropriate to be teaching you things about sex as opposed to some chick who’s your friend on Facebook…



What is it?

fuck yes.

Oxford dictionary online thingamobob:

permission for something to happen or agreement to do something:
no change may be made without the consent of all the partners

What it’s not?

It is not the same thing as permission. Although the definitions of each ‘consent’ and ‘permission’ might make you think they are the same, they come with different emotional and mental constructs when used in everyday conversation. How Betty put it:

When you ask your mum for permission to go to the movies, she won’t say ‘yes’ because she WANTS you to go (most likely), she is saying ‘yes’ because she DOESN’T MIND if you go.

Which is when we need to learn the difference between these words:




This is when things get sticky and a little bit confusing. But if you trust me (which some of you must… for some reason you keep coming back here and that the reason you’d come back is obviously for my sharp writing talents and wondrous thoughts[ignoring the fact that there are naked chicks all over my website]), then PLEASE, keep reading.

When your partner says:

“Hey, I’ve never been to a strip club,” while drinking his coffee and glancing back and forth between his phone and a newspaper, you, as his/her partner might take this as:

A request: OH, He/She would like to GO to a strip club! This means I must be a compliant and awesome boyfriend/girlfriend and take him/her to one even if I don’t really like them!

An offer: Does he think that I want to go to one? He must be offering to take me. I better say yes so he knows I appreciate him.

An invitation: Is he/she saying that he wants to go and he wants me to come with him because he thinks I enjoy them?

Here’s the thing: Very few of us are mind-readers. A lot more of us make really vague comments that we expect everyone around us to interpret in the way we mean them, without actually giving any information.

This can be as simple as a co-worker saying to you, “Man, I really don’t want to work tomorrow.”

What do you want? Me to come to work for you? Do you want to call in sick? Are you just complaining? VAGUE COMMUNICATION GETS US NO WHERE.

But Caitlin! I hear you exclaim, sighing of confusion and asking yourself if you were mistaken and this is a philosophy blog rather than one filled with smut and boobies, WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH SEX?

Fucking everything, is what. What I going to tell you right now is going to fix all of the mis-communication happening between boys and girls, girls and girls, boys and boys. Whenever there is someone who wants one thing, there is someone who wants it a little bit less. It’s the power game. Once a boy stops pawing and kissing at me, I quit ignoring him and I immediately start pawing and kissing at him.

In this situation, I am hereforth going to refer to the specific personality that generally wants to go further, as the male personality. BUT WHY, CAITLIN?! ARE YOU NOT A FORWARD THINKING FEMINIST WHO REALIZES THAT CHICKS CAN BE JUST AS DOMINANT AND AGGRESSIVE IN BED AS MEN CAN BE?!

Yes yes yes. Don’t get your knickers in a knot. BUT, I just so happen to be a straight female who has experienced more boner-happy-‘lets-fuck’ boys than I have girls. And it’s my blog. So. There.

THE BIGGEST PART OF MIS-COMMUNICATION IS THAT NO ONE SAYS WHAT IT IS THEY WANT. We all want to know what the other person wants so we can make them happy and please them, but we never stop to think about what it is that WE want.

Betty, in her lecture about consent that I listened to five times, works with a woman in sexual therapy healing type of thing and she asks the woman, “How would you like me to touch you for two minutes?” (Or something along those lines) and the woman lies on the table for 45 minutes not saying a word. Near the end of the session she says, “I want you to put your hands on my feet”. Betty does so. After the time is up, the woman tells Betty, “I never knew it was my choice before…”

When you are about to touch someone and you can’t tell if they want it or don’t want it, SAY what it is you’d like to do to them. And then ask them what they want or if it’s okay if you follow through with your intended actions.

If you are on a first date and would like to kiss this datee, but they are shy and reserved and you can’t quite tell if they are into you: lean into them slowly, not touching them yet (if they don’t back away this is usually a good sign), bring your lips close enough to their ear so that they can feel your breath hitting their skin, and say: “I would really like to kiss you right now. Would you be okay with that?”

If you are in a long-term committed relationship and you would like your partner to give you a back rub, say “Pookie Pie, I had a really long day, I would really love it if you rubbed my back for ten minutes. Would you be okay with that?”

Granted, the former is much sexier than the latter, but I just wanted to show you how it works in different settings.

By stating what it is you want, you have filled your part. You have taken full responsibility for your end of communication and have now opened the line for the other to take responsibility for their communication and any actions that follow.

This is when the ability to say ‘No’ becomes crucial. What happens if you say ‘yes, of course’ all the time, even if you don’t want it? Because even if you don’t want it, you will receive it, because you have allowed your partner to believe that it is okay to do, but you will then hold resentment for your partner for not recognizing that you really meant ‘no’.


When there is a CONSCIOUS CHOICE and VERBAL CONSENT, each party takes responsibility, each party releases resentment. Each party is happy with THEIR choice and we can all go on being sexy, life-loving monkeys.

But Caitlin! My girlfriend comes from a family where she grew up thinking that she was just supposed to please everyone else. Even when I ask her what she wants, she never knows. How is it my fault if I accidentally do something that hurts her when she has never said it wasn’t okay.

A) Wait for her to say that it IS OKAY.
B) Keep waiting.

I’m not saying don’t continue to move forward in your relationship, but be patient. All of us started out with having someone else touch us in ways we didn’t give consent for. People changed our diapers, people bathed us, people clothed us and fed us and held us without us saying “I want to be fed Cheerio’s, now please”. Intrinsically, we are wired to accept other peoples touch, and it will take time and awareness to find the ground of how YOU, as an individual, WANT to be touched. And don’t want to be touched.

So. Patience. Ask the question, don’t force an answer. In fact, don’t say a fucking thing until in your partners mind, they have come to some form of decision and verbalize their answer.

It’s harder to stop a moving train than it is to decide where you’re going once you’re on the track.