Skin Care and Bathing

I don't use soap to wash my vulva anymore. Why? Sodium lauryl sulfate. It is a primary ingredient in most cleansers. Really, walk into your bathroom and read your labels.

What does it do? As a surfactant, it creates lather in shampoos and soaps to create a satisfying customer experience. Sodium lauryl sulfate is a known skin irritant. And although most people do not have a response, anyone with chronic skin hypersensitivity might consider avoiding this.

Even Cetaphil, the touted non-soap cleanser for sensitive skin, has this ingredient. 

Use water only and a microfiber cloth which will give you traction on the hood. Be gentle. The Dollar Store sells (3) for $1!

Another two products called sodium laureth sulfate and ammonia laurly sulfate are also found in the same kinds of skin products. The research on these is less comprehensive and less condemning, but they are still dermatological irritants and I avoid them along with sodium lauryl sulfate.

Common skin products that contain sodium lauryl sulfate or sodium laureth sulfate are:

• Shampoos - lots of alternatives now! look for "sulfate-free."
• Soaps and body wash- I use shampoo, but there are many products.
• Bubble-bath - don't do it.
• Toothpaste - Sensodyne
• Moisturizer
• Shaving cream
• Mouthwash

Any Google search turns up this information from both governmental organizations and "natural health" advocates. A balanced view that provides a good summary is presented at http://www.treasuredlocks.com/noname7.html.

Does my Vulva Have a Name?

Not really.  In "The Vagina Monologues" by Eve Ensler, a play about...well...vaginas, one woman refers to her vulva as "Itsy-Bitsy" at first before she comes up with her vulva's real name: vulva. I use the very same name of vulva (quelle suprise), but I mentally capitalize it to Vulva.  I guess I feel like my vulva is both part of me, but also has a separate identity. There is a willfulness and sense of self-determination about my vulva that creates a personality. After all, I can coddle and pamper my vulva, but cannot directly control its mood and behavior. So, in my private thoughts, it's Vulva, and not vulva. But I promise not to capitalize it again in my blog - or "our blog"; as the title of my blog suggests "we" are a we.

Vulvodynia and Vestibulitis

Let's define some terms here - although if you are on this website you probably already know what vulvodynia and vestibulitis are. Vulvodynia translates from the Latin to vulvo meaning your vulva and dynia meaning pain. Simple enough. The next is a little more esoteric as it wasn't covered in 6th grade sex-ed and you probably have never seen your vestibule. Vestibulitis means vestibule, the entrance to your vagina and itis meaning irritation. Vestibulitis is a subset type of vulvodynia and a focus in this blog, although a lot of my advice fits with more generalized vulvodynia and related back and nerve pain. As a side note, in a church the vestibule is the entrance hall. A good, but sort of incongruous parallel ("my body is my temple, right?")

Vestibulitis is then talked about as "primary vestibulitis" or "secondary vestibulitis". I don't believe that these designations are noteworthy, except in defining who is being studied and in predicting recovery outcomes. The diagnosis of primary vestibulitis means that you have never had sex without pain. Secondary vestibulitis has an onset after you have had painless sex during your life. But in both cases, it's not all about sexual pain. Vestibulitis affects how you feel all the time. It burns. The treatments approaches for both are the same, but primary vestibulitis has a lower recovery rate.

I have primary vestibulitis and have had it for at least 14 years, but my guess is that I began having symptoms in high school, 24 years ago. I am not typical (in fact, I am extremely atypical) so don't despair. My experience is not going to be your experience. What I am is practiced in all the strategies to try. I have improved and hope you will too. Perhaps you will count your treatment by months and not by years.

Surfboards and Vulvas

Today, my friend Liz and I are driving up to my parents house and I tell her about my new blog.

Me: So, what do you think about putting me putting a sticker of my blog name up on the back of my car window?

Liz: I don’t think it’s maybe so appropriate.

Me: But you have a sticker of a surfboard on the back of your car. Why can’t I have one about vulvodynia?

Liz: A vulva is not a surfboard.