In 1990,I completed my doctoral degree.  I immediately was offered this great post-doctoral research position (which I then thought was the most meaningful post-doc achievement).  I took my first vacations (New Hope, Tanglewood).  It was magical.  I met a guy and I thought I was in love.

Then, he dumped me.  The post-doc was great--but paid piss.  Everyone but me seemed to be making great money and paying off their loans in a fell swoop.  Me, I was still supping on tea and free crackers swiped from the salad bar.

I saw psychiatrists.  Everyone was exclaiming about the new wonder drug--Prozac.  At first, I was prescribed not Prozac but Zoloft.  Immediately, intense stomach aches.  And a sense that my juicy nether parts had been covered with cotton wool, like Vonnegut's birth control in "Welcome to the Monkey House."  

I mentioned the stomach aches to the doctor.  Not the cotton wool.  I was too embarrassed.  A female who has been masturbating since age 12.  A female who enjoyed it but grokked that this was not something you talked about. To anyone.  Who felt a comfort from "Fear of Flying."  Because Isabel Wing masturbated.  Still, even 18 years into the joy, a sense that there was a "right" way to do it and the "right" way didn't lead to the intense envelopment into a vortex of sensation and contentment that doing it my way did.

The doctor was dismissive--which is worse, stomach aches or depression?  Stomach aches.  Another one prescribed Prozac.  Which led to headaches and tightening of the cotton wool.  And I d/c Prozac.  And in a week, I was no longer depressed.  But my nether regions were still swathed in cotton wool.

And they remained that way for six weeks.  I made myself masturbate, though I wasn't particularly interested.  Bring back the muscle memory.  I used more intense stimuli than mere fingers.  Cucumbers (to avoid the issue of pesticides, I put condoms on them).   Carrots (same).  Facial massagers (battery operated).  Wow.  And in six weeks, the memory returned as did the intensity.  Juicy again.

I write this because now the newspapers are writing about the loss of libido from females who have been decades---decades on SSRI's and SNRI's.  And apparently, they didn't care enough about the cotton wool sensation to stop earller.  And doctors still dismiss it--"depression resurgent."  Bah.

Even though females now make up at least half of the the psychiatrists, they still are inculcated with the same
"don't listen to the patient" philosophy as their predecessors.  

Females of the world:   juiciness is all it is cracked up to be.  A sense of comfort that you are a vibrant, sensual being.  Who can envelop herself in a vortex of contentment whenever she wants.  Just purse your nether lips and imagine yourself happy.  The mind is both an aphrodisiac and an anti-depressant.