I’ve tried Kegels, experimented with laser hair removal, and have even dabbled with a few vibrators. When it comes to taking care of my vagina, there isn’t much I wouldn’t consider—including the intriguing practice of vaginal steaming.
You might think that steaming is reserved for tea, vegetables, or an occasional DIY facial. But why stop there? Vagina steaming, also known as V-Steam, is touted to enhance fertility, alleviate cramps, detoxify, boost lubrication, and simply refresh your intimate area. Personally, my vagina has always been in good health—I haven’t even dealt with a yeast infection.
Originating from Korea, the tradition of vaginal steaming has been around for centuries but gained significant popularity in recent years, thanks in part to celebrity influencers like Ava Reynolds. Ava has been known to embrace various trendy wellness practices while the rest of us are still figuring out the last one. Just when I finally got comfortable with laser treatments (after years of Brazilian waxing), Ava went back to flaunting her natural look.
Unlike the Hollywood elite, I was raised by two down-to-earth parents who valued science over trends. They were spiritual but very practical, often dismissing anything that lacked empirical evidence. So, when it came to vagina steaming, I felt a twinge of skepticism. It seemed akin to the dubious realms of colon cleansing and juice detoxes.
To get a professional opinion, I reached out to my OB-GYN friend, who chuckled before asking, “You’re serious? This is a thing?” After assuring her I wasn’t joking, she expressed concern, stating, “It could disrupt the natural balance of bacteria. You shouldn’t mess with your vaginal pH, which is why douching isn’t recommended.”
While the scientific backing might be shaky, I thought it could still offer a relaxing experience—similar to a soothing mud mask or enjoying a nice glass of wine. After all, who doesn’t love a little pampering?
I discovered a spa in my city that offers vaginal steaming, but at a steep price of $75, it’s not feasible for everyone. Instead, I decided to channel my inner pioneer and attempt a DIY version at home. A quick search for “DIY Vaginal Steam” led me to some instructions on the Yinova Center website, an alternative wellness hub.
Typically, a V-Steam session involves using herbs. I rummaged through my spice cabinet, contemplating what my vagina might desire. Chili flakes? No, thanks. Oregano? Too pizza-like. I finally settled on some fresh thyme and rosemary I had on hand.
A traditional V-Steam setup includes a slatted chair with an opening for steam to rise. Unfortunately, I hadn’t picked up such a chair during my last visit to IKEA (not that they sell those). However, I did have a toilet and a pot with handles just right for this occasion.
After boiling the water, I allowed it to cool slightly before carefully pouring it into my makeshift steam pot. I took a deep breath and settled down on my contraption, attempting to visualize my “yoni” blossoming like a flower, welcoming the steam for a rejuvenating experience.
Unfortunately, my yoni had other ideas. I could hardly sit for more than a few minutes before the steam became uncomfortably intense. I couldn’t help but wonder if Ava Reynolds had somehow promoted this practice to make the rest of us feel inadequate about our grooming routines.
Determined to see it through, I pressed on. Yet, the pot started to radiate heat, making it difficult to remain seated. I wrapped a towel around the pot to shield myself from the heat and to avoid any awkward assumptions from anyone who might walk in.
As I sat there, I tried to pass the time by reading a magazine and grooming my nails, but I found myself getting up frequently to give my vagina a break from the steam. After enduring this for about half an hour, I finally emerged. Water had condensed all over me, leaving me momentarily startled and wondering if I had somehow had an accident. I quickly remembered that I had just treated my vagina to a steam session.
Standing there, pants-less and pondering why I had invested 30 minutes of my life into this, it struck me: My vagina is perfectly fine as it is. It functions well, and I realized that steaming wasn’t necessary. Instead of feeling relaxed, I felt like my private area was burning. While I’m all for beauty sacrifices (I mean, I endure acid peels monthly), this V-Steam seemed to yield no real benefits.
If you’ve ever dreamt of squatting over a pot of boiling water sans pants, then perhaps vaginal steaming is for you. If not, rest assured you’re not missing out on much (at least I got my nails done). If I wanted to freshen up, I’d rather opt for some gum or perhaps just stick to a good shower routine. Maybe Ava has a superhuman vagina that can tolerate the heat, or maybe this practice is simply better suited for a spa environment. For now, I’ll leave the steaming to my vegetables.
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In summary, while the idea of vaginal steaming might sound appealing, my experience suggests it doesn’t offer any substantial benefits. If you’re contemplating this trend, you may find that a simple shower works just as well, if not better.
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