BOTOX SAVED MY SEX LIFE
I thought my condition meant I’d never lose my virginity
The teacher stood at the front of the class. “When women menstruate, the lining of the uterus sheds and ows out of the vagina,” she said. “Your period contains blood, mucus…” Whack!
I didn’t hear the end of the sentence because
I’d collapsed on the oor.
I woke up to the teacher kneeling next to me, fanning my face.
“Here, drink some water,” she said, concerned.
Embarrassed, I asked if I could be excused from the rest of the sex ed lesson.
I was 14, and it was the strangest thing.
While I could handle hearing about blood and guts, I was squeamish about anything related to vaginas, sex or childbirth.
I’d even faint when trying to insert a tampon, so used pads instead.
When I got a boyfriend at 18, I dreaded losing my virginity.
One night, I knew he was leading up to it.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he breathed. I kept drinking glasses of wine to try to relax and steel my nerves.
We kissed and he led me upstairs.
But as he tried to do the deed, it was like he was hitting a brick wall.
I panicked and started crying.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t,” I said to him.
I decided to visit my GP to discuss it.
“I just can’t do it when my boyfriend and I try to have sex,” I told her. “I have a panic attack and my vagina clamps up. I can’t even use tampons, the thought of it makes me feel sick.”
“Has anything happened in your past which might cause such an extreme reaction?” she asked. I shook my head. “Well, let’s just take a look and make sure everything’s okay up there,” she said.
I lay on the table and as she went to examine me I involuntarily almost kicked her in the head!
“Whoa! Maybe we need
‘My vagina clamps up!’
to change tack,” she said.
She referred me to go under general anaesthetic so doctors could investigate.
Afterwards, one came to see me.
“Everything’s in perfect working order,” she said. “at’s good,” I said. But it was also frustrating. All my friends were losing their virginity and I felt left out.
I was worried I’d die a virgin. Having kids seemed impossible.
Meanwhile, my frigidity was taking its toll on my love life.
“It’s okay if you want to sleep with other people,” I told my boyfriend.
“But it’s you I want to sleep with,” he said. In the end, we broke up. After that, I dated a few more guys but the lack of sex was too much for them.
One day, a friend told me to watch an episode of Embarrassing Bodies.
“is is you!” she said. As I watched, I related to a woman diagnosed with vaginismus – a condition where the mind believes that penetration will hurt, so the body reacts by clenching muscles.
Over the years, I tried numbing creams, yoga and reiki healing, but nothing worked.
en I found a specialist who had a 90 per cent success rate in xing the problem.
Nervously, I went for a consultation.
“I inject Botox into the pelvis which relaxes the muscles so you’re able to insert dilators without pain,” she said, explaining a dilator was a medical instrument used to expand an opening. “You can work up from there.”
At $2500, the Botox was pricey, but if it worked it would be worth it. Soon after, I started dating Paul, and I was honest with him from day one.
“We won’t be able to have sex,” I said.
ankfully, he wasn’t fazed. He was the rst man who took an interest in my condition, and wanted to understand it better.
Months later, I had my Botox – six injections, two in each vaginal muscle – and exactly two weeks afterwards, I was able to insert a dilator.
e relief was palpable and the next day, Paul and I had sex.
I was 24 and it was my rst time.
It was incredible! Afterwards, I told my friends the good news.
“at’s amazing!” one said and they all agreed.
Now, eight years on, I’ve had no further issues or treatment. Paul and I are still together and our sex life is fantastic.
In fact, we’re now planning to start a family – something that used to be unthinkable.
People use Botox to melt their frowns away.
Botox has saved my sex life, and left me smiling.
‘We won’t be able to have sex’