Looking Forward To Satisfaction
Metal sex toys, Embracing what's hidden, TikTok thoughts, Must read newsletters
Dear Reader,
I have watched thousands of TikTok videos this year. Thousands. So many that I can barely remember that time in 2019 when I openly told friends that I would never download the app. Yet, here I am a professional trend spotter, a no bones day viewer, a Call Me Kris fan, a person who has definitely bought a product or two (or three) because I #SawItOnTikTok. I’ve asked the discover page for the best recipes while also obtaining that dear sweet/sensitive knowledge of how to remove an ingrown hair from an inner thigh. How does the feta and the tomato cook the pasta in the oven without it become a big pink mess?
TikTok’s magic (and endless scrolling feature) is both a 3am insomnia curse and a how-to lover’s wet dream. How many articles, essays, freelance jobs could I have taken and completed without this app? So many, so much money lost. But truly, I’m okay with it. I’m oddly okay with having to rebuild and restructure my life in my post-TikTok awakening as whatever I could have produced for myself, for my own brand, wouldn’t have been that great in 2021.
I was sad. Like very sad. Like, falling asleep at 8pm sad. Before my grandmother passed away, before the summer, before the insurrection, before it all. There was a time in February 2021 where I would wonder over to the East River and ugly cry every single day asking god or the simulation why I felt so blank, so empty, so lifeless.
Pandemic aside, loss of matriarch aside, climate crisis aside, general fear of losing control aside, I had nothing else left to give to the universe. There wasn’t a fun Instagram photo I wanted to share or a book I wanted to read or a weird interest I wanted to spend all my time obsessing about (I do this . . . a lot. Ask me about my personal Ari Aster research project or my Statue of Liberty persona I decided to develop). My therapist, a Westchester-living, Italian woman who just gets me and how I was raised, said I was suffering from extreme burnout from years of giving and giving and giving and not saying no. That I lived with severe scarcity mentality while also gripping my hands onto any control I could muster in a time where universal control was lacking.
So I would sob my feelings of unworthiness, loss of self, depletion, loneliness, abandonment into the East River, hoping it would wash it all away and bring me back to that place of constant hustle. It was here I saw myself break away from an identity of over production to gain worth, and found a way to spend a whole year taking a step back in order to feel fine and redefine who I am . . . even if I dissociated with TikTok a lot.
TikTok is a distraction. But an entertaining distraction. It helped me feel good when I couldn’t feel anything. It gave me some common ground to the people around me when I felt deeply alone in my own brain or angry at others when they posted a cute photo or accomplished something or noted how they were going to go call their mother. “Must be nice,” I would say in therapy when I expressed my frustration that covered up a deeper feeling connected to my own value i.e. why am I not working on myself, why am I not writing, why can’t I get this body and brain to do what I want it to do, why won’t my mother, who has been the same forever, change to suit an ideal motherhood that I needed as a kid??? To which my therapist, who doesn’t fuck around, would tell me I’m projecting, that I’m angry at myself, that I’m still holding on to this idea that the cute picture or the accomplishment or the mother means stability — and it’s just not true, or at least not true for everyone. And even if it was, who cares? Didn’t you get here without her, Laura? She’s always right . . . and I needed to work through those feelings of anger and loss.
I wasn’t perfect in 2021. I didn’t do the things I was supposed to do. Ya know, keep burning out, keep posting, keep writing when all I could do was cry. Co-Star would greet me each morning with an affirming astrological note that would speak to recovery, rest, rebuilding, taking time, so I did it and didn’t pitch or make something new or create elaborate TikTok videos or rebrand or anything. I just went to work, read a bit, eat pasta, gave my dog all the attention, and went to bed. It was an imperfect year that I needed — all wishy washy without ever being clean.
I’m not as sad today as I was yesterday or the day before. In fact, I feel rather good. I’m drinking water and wine and doing away with ideals of perfection and stability — because they aren’t real. We are a little under 24 hours until 2022. And while there won’t be this magic lifting of spirits or of Covid (possibly the opposite), I am settling into this new brain of mine (filled with TikTok dances that you will never see me do) that wants to wear comfortable clothes, eat soft cheese, learn Italian, be honest about what turns me on, write poetry, eat the occasional chicken parm hero, and just lean into to being a full on romantic about the ridiculousness of life. I certainly think my grandmother would love to see me less sad, less angry, and more happy.
Laura
Artichokes
I was 11 the first time I had an artichoke. My grandma added them to the table during the holidays, but I would never partake. The oblong dish was placed in front of me, surrounded by raviolis, chicken cutlets, fresh mozzarella. My grandma asked if I wanted some of the green stuff as she scraped the the leafy innards of the artichoke with her teeth. I refused, shaking my head in fear of their mossy odor. She raised her arm as if she was about to sing an old Italian song but said “Come on! Try a no thank you helping” while shoveling a full, stuffed artichoke onto my plate. I used my tiny fingers to touch the breadcrumbs and lemon-coated edge. I stared at it. Unaware of how to move forward. She laughed and demonstrated by clenching another petal in her teeth and stripping the meat into her mouth — I copied her and slowly pulled as the inner petal bared itself on my teeth and tongue. It reminded me of olive oil and potatoes and cashews. It was soft and crunchy and pleasant and earthy. My grandma asked me if I wanted more. “Yes, please.” I ended up eating two full artichokes, disregarding the raviolis, the chicken cutlets, the mozzarella for a new flavor, a leafy texture, a singular moment where we were one in the same yet years apart. She smiled mangiaaaaaa! across the table in celebration.
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Looking Ahead To 2022
While I’m not a resolutions person (and dare I say, don’t want to hex the incoming new year with glow up personal promises), here are some thing I hope for myself and for all of you as we go forward.
Embrace Italianness. I ran away from this my whole life; embarrassed about my last name, stressed over every loud family dinner, equally terrified to fit in as well as stand out amongst my extended family — and not because it’s bad or anything. But I always felt on the outside of it, a casual observer. My parents weren’t around, my brother had died, my other brother was angry, and I didn’t look like anyone around me when I sat at those tables. I took after my father’s northern Italy looks, but I never met anyone from his side. So, I ignored being Italian. And now, it’s all I think about — how close I was to being una ragazza italiana / la donna ragazza, how unique and cool that is, how spiritual the food is and the way we honor people when they’ve passed on. I hope we can all embrace the thing we have been afraid of this upcoming year. So if you see me with a headscarf trying to be a modern, thirty-something nonna, that is why.
More Nudes. I’m naked a lot on the internet but the last two years saw an absence of my glorious boobs anywhere. I hope nudity becomes a big part of your life and my life this year. I know it can be difficult to even consider being naked, but there are so many benefits to really looking at yourself and soaking in the beauty that is your body.
Protect Energy. I want to be loved, liked, adored, recognized as the most important, and because of that I say yes a lot to everyone around me. I’m overly positive. I go out of my way to make sure everyone else is comfortable — it’s exhausting. I hope we can all find a way to slow down, to breathe, to not keep talking because there isn’t a reaction, to sit in that silence and think.
Lean Into Your Sexual Fantasies. Dang, I need us all to do this because times a ticking on earth and we should really consider how we shame ourselves and others on the ways we want to get off. So have your consensual threesome, try anal, look for a dominatrix, purchase that latex catsuit, clean someone’s floors naked, take a strapon class. I’m going to try to be more upfront about this in 2022 because I’ve certainly felt and live in that sexual interest shame a lot (and babe, I write about this shit all the time. So if I feel it, I know some of y’all must feel it). Just make sure their is enthusiastic consent, be clear about objectives, consider emotional maturity, have the difficult conversations, and be honest with yourself.
Le Wand’s Contour Goes With The Curve Of Your Body
Yes, it’s metal. Yes, it’s heavy. Yes, it looks like a weapon. And for all those reasons and more, the Le Wand Contour needs to be on your new year, new orgasms to have list in 2022. The curve on each end matches the shape of your body as it glides in always point the curve toward the belly button) giving the user an erotic, fullness sensation when in use. This toy provides direct stimulation for any prostate or a ***clitourethrovaginal (CUV) complex (also know as the g-spot) looking to be touched, as well as providing two head options for a more girthy penetrative experience or one with ribbed action (also can be used a grip if needed). It’s sturdy and weighted for solo pleasure seekers that simply want their toy to stay put, and has easy to hold ridges for partner play.
But Laura, won’t this hurt me? I mean, anything can cause pain. But no, this is not going to hurt unless you or your partner aren’t communicating your pain thresholds when in action (like, don’t just shove this into anyone please dear god). Softer, more bendy toys don’t often have the ability (or weight) to press on the nerve endings inside of the front hole or back hole. The ***vaginal (front hole) and back hole (anal) walls are filled with nerve endings that are much more spread out than say the clit or the head of a penis, making the experience beyond exhilarating when used with a ton of lube! Also, this product can use any kind of lube you’re like whereas silicone toys can’t use silicone lube. Looking for a lube recommendation? Sliquid is my number one.
This is a great toy to experience a CUV (g-spot) orgasm or front hole ejaculation (aka ***female ejaculation) because of the pressure it can place on that specific spot inside. Looking for the CUV or the prostate? Remember, it’s always curve toward the belly button about two inches in and up (or down depending on where the belly button is pointing. Also . . . Heat it up with a warm cloth or cool it down in the freezer for a minute — stainless steel holds temperature.
Big plus: Stainless steel toys are the most hygienic pieces on the sex toy market as steel doesn’t hold bacteria. It’s an easy rinse off, dry, and put away deal.
Specs:
Size: 27.8 cm / 10.95 in
Smallest Diameter: 3.9 cm / 1.53 in
Biggest Diameter: 4.9 cm / 1.92 in
Weight: 4.4 lbs / 2 kg
Price: $225
Why is it so expensive, Laura? You’ll have this toy forever. It will never break, crack, shatter, it will never stand you up on a date or tell a terrible joke that you pretend to laugh at, it will always make you feel amazing and warm and glittery. And it’s the highest quality product on the market.
***Clitourethrovaginal (CUV) Complex: After much research, the medical and scientific communities have discovered that the g-spot is a larger ecosystem of dynamic interactions between the clitoris, urethra, and anterior vaginal hence the name.
***Female Ejaculation: This is often referred to as female ejaculation but we want to be respectful of the names and body parts and gender.
***Front Hole / Back Hole: Again, this is a genderless way to describe these areas of the body without assuming how the other person would describe it.
See You Next Time
Thank you all for peering into this weird diary that is my life. Hey Laura has been around since 2018 (previously 1-800-HeyLaura on MailChimp), and it has certainly evolved as I (and the world) develop. This silly newsletter has given me the ability to express my Piscean melodrama, my overly sensitive thoughts, my anger, the fears that permeates from that anger. It is the reason I call myself a writer even if I am terrible at grammar and start sentence with I. This newsletter is the reason I have a book coming out in 3 months, and the reason I’m working on a second one. It’s how I don’t feel alone in my own head.
I appreciate the likes, the coffees, the reads — even if I know you skim to the sex toy stuff because dang, I am long winded and write a lot and I know it and I’m working on it.
All my love, angels. See you in 2022.
Laura
Hey Laura is an off-track yet weekly newsletter dedicated laura’s life + body image, sad stuff, teeth, joy, poems, sexual wellness, life, butts, confidence, essays, fatness, crying until you're a puddle of DNA, embarrassment, and so much weirdo stuff.
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