In the mainstream media, kinky women are often portrayed as insatiable sexpots. Their young bodies are perfectly proportionate, and their unblemished skin is sometimes decorated with colorful tattoos and shiny piercings. Their supple breasts are perky, even without corsets, and their eraser sized nipples are always erect. Their taut abdomens are devoid of stretch marks, and their fishnet covered thighs are dimple free. They’re beautiful and make excellent spank bank material, but they are not a realistic reflection of the majority of kinky women. They don’t represent the inner chaos that some women struggle with as they try to make sense of the desires they have, and they don’t represent the real challenges of everyday life. They are fetish models; if you walk into a BDSM dungeon expecting to see these women naked and cuffed to a St. Andrews cross, you won’t. They are a fantasy.

Kinky women look like everyday people. We come in all shapes, sizes, and ages. You’ll eat lunch next to us in the food court at the mall, or you’ll stand behind us as we wait in line to mail our packages at the Post Office and see nothing out of the ordinary. Of course, there’s always the distinct possibility that we may be wearing a butt plug or a chastity device under our clothing, but you’d never have a reason to suspect it. We don’t announce our kink when exchanging business cards, and we don’t all have closets full of latex, leather, and thigh-high boots. Our kink won’t rub off on you if you bump into us in a crowded restaurant; it’s not a disease. We’re not defective, and we’re not freaks for liking sexual practices that others may think aren’t normal. Chances are that unless a woman actually tells you she’s kinky, you’ll never know it.

My neighbors don’t know that I’m kinky because my sexual practices are none of their concern. There is no need to inform the homeowner’s association that a kinkster is living among them; just like there was no need to call attention to the fact that my boyfriend wore my panties underneath his clothing at a business dinner to please me. It didn’t involve his associates, and it didn’t affect our ability to hold professional conversations. Also, my ex-husband isn’t made privy to the fact that I face-sit my boyfriend while the kids are at his house for the weekend. It doesn’t affect my ability to be a good mother; my kinky preferences don’t spill over into my children’s lives. They don’t walk into my bedroom and find cuffs laying on my bed, or floggers on the floor. I make sure my life never spills over into theirs.

When I look in the mirror, I don’t focus on my stretch marks from having children, my uneven breasts, or my ass that isn’t as firm as it once was. Don’t get me wrong, it would be very easy to. However, I look past the outside and what I see is a woman who is confident in her kink, and who is very sexual. I also see a woman who is no longer torn and confused about the things she desires; a woman who is finally comfortable in her own skin. I understand now that I’m both dominant and submissive; I’m a Switch. I’m also a slut. I enjoy anal sex, watersports, and wearing a strap-on for my boyfriend. What I do in the privacy of my bedroom doesn’t affect my relationships in the outside world, as one has nothing to do with the other. It took me a long time to get here, but I love the woman I am today.

Discovering the kinkster inside isn’t always easy. I’ve yet to meet a woman who woke up one morning and just decided that she’s kinky. It just doesn’t work that way. Chances are that it’s been a long and sometimes arduous journey to reach that destination. Most of us have paid some hefty dues along the way, but we’re all different. We don’t come from a predefined mold, we don’t walk a certain way or exude a tell-tale scent. We don’t all have genital piercings, tattoos, and purple hair extensions. Okay, I have a tattoo on my foot, but it’s unrelated. And, even though I do, it’s impossible to conclude that I adore anal sex from the way I finger produce at the supermarket. My point is that, for the most part, we look like soccer moms, P.T.A. volunteers, and business professionals, because that’s what we are.