pretty SILLY: Vaginas.

My freshman year in college, I was in a one-night only Valentine's Day production of "The Vagina Monologues" by Eve Ensler, directed by Caroline Messmer, '02. My piece was called, "Because He Liked To Look At It." I'm not sure why I thought of this today, but I remember feeling that the monologue had a certain relevance at that time in my life. Here is an excerpt:

"This is how I came to love my vagina. It’s embarrassing because it’s not politically correct. I mean I know it should have happened in a bath with salt grains from the Dead Sea, Enya playing, me loving my woman self. I know the story. Vaginas are beautiful. Our self-hatred is only the internalized repression and hatred of the patriarchal culture. It isn’t real. Pussies Unite. I know all of it. Like if we’d grown up in a culture where we were taught fat thighs were beautiful, we’d all be pounding down milkshakes and Krispy Kremes, lying on our backs, spending our days thigh-expanding..."

For the rest of this monologue, click here.

Since we're on the theme of, well, vaginas, I'll make mention of something else that seems relevant (you'd be surprised how much I have to say on this topic). A friend of mine recently graduated from Mama Gena's School of the Womanly Arts, best-described as a kind of group collaboration committed to helping empower the women who join, by, well, helping them to explore what makes them fundamentally different from men.

I attended my friend's fairly outrageous graduation from the school, feather boas and pink abound, where "Sister Goddess" graduates told inspirational "brags" -- from a woman who finally quit her awful admin job to another who overcame her fear of a body operated on -- and also performed stripteases, reverse stripteases and renditions of Aretha Franklin. It was incredible to see how uninhibited all the students were, and how easy it was, in a way, to pick out all the guests who'd come to support their friends. We squirmed in our seats, laughed nervously at first and then uproariously, and shook our heads with disbelieving grins stretched across our faces.

And of course, one of my roommates left with a pink boa.