There is a secret society of women who have discovered there’s more to life than getting their lazy teenage daughters to tidy their rooms, or their procrastinating husbands to change the washer on that dripping tap.  Who recognize that there’s more to Me Time than getting up early to sweat it out to Aerobics Oz Style.

All harassed, overworked and underpaid mothers should be let in on this secret.  The one that stops targetless anger threatening the harmony of the family, that makes mother feel good, gives her a healthy inner glow and even promotes weight loss.

Have you guessed it yet? Well, here’s a clue. Once you’ve outlaid the money for some decent hardware, it’ll cost you virtually nothing for the rest of your life – except for the price of the batteries.

Owning one’s own pleasure machine is not what housewives or mothers generally talk about.  It’s a little secret we keep to ourselves, revealed only to our closest friends after a few drinks on a girls’ night out.

It’s a bit like owning a pair of crotchless knickers. Everyone thinks they’re tacky, but we all have some hidden in our drawers.

How do I know? I found out at a Tupperware party where no-one actually bought anything. In fact, plastic food containers moved quickly off the agenda, once we discovered one of us owned a long and cylindrical power tool that didn’t bolt two pieces of useless wood together.  And suddenly we were divided into two camps: The Girls That Have and The Girls That Haven’t.

The Girls That Have convey a coded message to each other, and it’s not a secret handshake either – more like a raised eyebrow, a sideways smirk and a brief nod.  It’s not hard to persuade the Girls Who Haven’t to become the Girls That Have.  All it takes is a visit to the Shop with Black Windows.

Buying one is probably the most embarrassing experience you’ll go through, till your teenage son finds yours under the bed.  People who make a living cleaning carpets have to move everything and guess what’s the most common item found under Australian beds?

I’ve been to one of those Black Window places – the architectural equivalent of a pimp-mobile, and seen some things that can best be described as mind blowing.

I wandered round these surreal displays with my shades on, hoping to God I didn’t run into someone I knew.  I was terrified one of my old school friends would be behind the counter, and suddenly ask, “Would you like to try that Madam?

Of course, there’s mail order or the internet, but then you don’t have the option of trying before you buy.  Handling the merchandise, so to speak. Remember, you always get what you pay for.

Personally, I believe nothing under two hundred dollars is really worth the effort. Two speeds and two rotating controls is about the minimum you want.  Anything less than that and you may as well have sex with your husband.

Having got it home, you’ll zip through the washing, ironing – frigging everything – in record time, just so you can go play with your favourite pet.  It doesn’t demand equal rights in the bedroom and can’t count to sixty-nine.  The pleasure is all yours.  It takes the hard, sweaty work out of having to please someone else.

And take it from me, it’s impossible not to climb the highest mountain when you have your hands wrapped round the best equipment in the world.  And you don’t have to fake your own fireworks either. Satisfaction’s guaranteed!

The only thing you’ll ever have to fake again is a headache on Saturday night, when the girls want to take you out drinking – but you have a previous engagement upstairs at home.

Forget yoga and Pilates.  Have your own personal workout at home. In front of the video.  What better way to relax after a hard morning’s housework than shagging your favourite movie star, be it Leo DiCaprio, Hugh Jackman, Orlando Bloom or all three at the same time?

And afterwards, why not have a post-climactic smoke on the patio? None of your neighbours will be any the wiser – unless you’ve left the curtains or front door open.

Call it a hobby if you like.  It beats sewing curtains, doing pottery classes or ironing thirty five shirts to creaseless perfection.  So when hubby comes home and asks what have you been doing all day, just say you’ve been busy discovering the Inner You.

And as we all know, if Mum’s happy, then the rest of the family is too.  Or at least, they’re not suffering as much as usual.

You can do it anytime, anywhere.  Only do remember to take the batteries out when flying overseas, or you risk being hauled off the airplane in some scary foreign country to answer some very embarrassing questions.

Remember that song by Cyndi Lauper, ‘She Bop’?  It was all about Heading South to the Danger Zone, and we are not talking Margaret River.  I didn’t discover the rapturous pleasures of She Bop till I was twenty one.

I suffered many a frustrated night knowing I was missing out on something wonderful, but not knowing what that something wonderful was.  It took an illicit porno movie and an afternoon’s journey of self-discovery.  After that, having actual sex was more of a damp squib than the Australia Day SkyShow.

That was before I realized why multi-packs of batteries are sold at checkout points.  And long before I furtively visited the Black Window Shop to look for things I hadn’t known existed.

Later on in life I heard such things did exist, but didn’t want anyone to think I was sad and lonely.  So I was forty one – the age of liberation, where one doesn’t give a rat’s arse what other people think, before I discovered a ‘Rabbit’ wasn’t always a small furry animal.

Could it make men redundant?  Certainly, if the government put a tax on the number of Southern Sneezes we all have, there’d be enough money to fund a full-time ironing man for every working and stay-at-home mother in the land.

There’s no need to feel guilty – but you will. It goes with the territory.  Just never let onto your other half just how addicted you’ve become to his rival.  If you have to tell him, colour your conversations with stories about Rabbits, Polar Bears and Mountain Lions, and let him think you’ve subscribed to the National Geographic channel.

The best part is, you can’t get pregnant or can’t catch some awful communicable disease.  You can be as loud or as quiet as you like and get to do what Rabbits are best at – multiplication – till the kids come home from school to discover that Mum is in a good mood…..at last!

Sex might be great… But there’s no substitute for The Real Thing!

 


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    Last reviewed: 26 Sep 2010

APA Reference
Neale, S. (2010). The Secret Life of Masturbating Women. Psych Central. Retrieved on October 25, 2014, from http://blogs.psychcentral.com/unplugged/2010/09/the-secret-life-of-masturbating-women/

 

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