‘Yeah, why would she?’ I jump in. ‘I know it’s there and it’s doing what it needs to do. I’ve no need to go hoking and poking at it.’
Laura’s eyes are wide. ‘But it’s only your body. Why would you not want to know what your own body looks like?’
‘Because not all of our bodies are necessarily pleasing to the eye,’ I tell her. ‘Especially down in that general area.’ I wave my hand vaguely towards my genital area, feeling weird to even do that.
‘Wait,’ Niamh interrupts, while Deirdre just watches, fascinated at the quick back and forth of our conversation. ‘Laura, does this mean youhavehad a good old look down there?’
‘Yeah. I don’t see why I wouldn’t. Like, I wanted to see how it changed after childbirth.’
Niamh visibly pales. ‘Oh, God, no. There’s no need for that. After I had Jodie, they were stitching me up and I got the quickest glance in the reflection on a lamp and I’m still not the better for it.’
‘It is only a rumour,’ Deirdre says, nervously. ‘It might not be true.’
‘Tell me you’ve at least had a look at yours before?’ Laura asks her, and I feel immediately sorry for Deirdre, who is by now, no doubt, sorry she ever came and sat beside us at lunch.
‘Ah, no. Well, not on purpose anyway. And I suppose it depends on how much of it you’re talking about.’ Her face is bright red.
‘Laura, would you leave the poor woman alone. Just because you’re best friends with your hoo-ha.’
‘Vulva,’ Niamh interjects. ‘We can be mature about it.’
‘That’s rich coming from a woman who’s never so much as looked at her own,’ Laura retorts.
‘My body, my choice!’ Niamh retorts.
‘I don’t think that’s about looking at your own genitals, Niamh.’
I mouth a sorry to Deirdre and link arms with her, leaving the other two women to work through their vulva-related issues themselves.
‘I didn’t mean to upset anyone,’ Deirdre says as she joins me on a yoga mat halfway up the room. She turns her head away to take a drink from her water bottle.
‘You didn’t! It’s banter. They love each other to bits. And yeah, Niamh can be a bit prickly at the moment, but absolutely don’t worry about it.’
Deirdre smiles. ‘You three have a great bond, you know. I can see that. Cherish that. It’s so special.’
‘I do,’ I say. ‘I will.’
* * *
To my surprise, it is Peggy, dressed in loose linen trousers and an oversized linen shirt, who walks to the front of the class and announces she will be leading the workshop. She is barefoot, and her hair is still in perfect curls despite the swimming and yoga and walk in the cold outdoors. The woman is glowing and yet it’s clear she’s not wearing make-up. Whatever method this woman has found to look and feel this good, I’m here for it.
‘Good evening, everyone,’ she says in her lilting Donegal accent. ‘I know we have this room set up in rows, but can I ask that you shift yourself around so that we’re all in a circle.’
‘Leave a space for me too,’ she says as we start to do what she asked. It’s four in the afternoon, and the light is fading quickly now. Our reflections shine back at us from the floor-to-ceiling window, now speckled with rain, and I make sure to take a place in the circle where my back is towards the window and I am unable to see any part of myself and become self-conscious. I want to tell Laura this proves it’s not just my genital area that I don’t want to look at. I don’t want to watch how my body moves, or even, I realise, how I look. I’d quite happily ban mirrors and selfie-taking cameras from the universe if I were in power.
God, I really, really hope no one is going to start handing hand mirrors out. Surely I can locate my inner goddess without having to go cave diving for my uterus?
‘First of all, friends… fellow goddesses,’ Peggy says, ‘I’ve been made aware there has been some chatter about an exercise honouring the yoni – which, to you and me, is probably better known as your vulva or any other manner of interesting words for it.’
The room falls silent. We are hanging on her every word. I wonder how many people, if any, gathered here are hoping it’s going to happen. From the expressions of the other women in the room, I’d guess a relatively small amount.
‘Let me reassure you before we get going that such an exercise, while valid and empowering, is not part of this weekend’s proceedings.’
There is a collective sigh of relief, which quickly turns into a ripple of laughter spreading around the room.
‘Thank God for that,’ a woman I don’t know calls. ‘I haven’t waxed since before the pandemic and it would take more than a mirror to find mine. I’d need a garden trimmer and some safety goggles!’
More laughter ensues.
