It's a common perception that only older women get breast cancer—old enough that they don't really care if they ever have sex again. And boobs? Whatever, take 'em… They already nursed their kids and the ta-tas are just getting saggy anyway. Right?

Wrong! I'm 26, and I have cancer in my breast. And no matter what age, women still want to be treated like the gorgeous creatures we are, even when hairless, probably throwing up and left ravaged by a mastectomy.

When I discovered my lump at 24, I was nearly scoffed out of a male breast cancer specialist's … Read More

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"My husband and I have been married for 10 years. I'm eager to incorporate some fantasy into the bedroom. Where do I begin?" Joyce, New Hampshire

It's the classic sex act every woman hopes she's never asked to perform."Tonight, I'd like to pretend we're strangers—you'll be wearing a gigantic raccoon costume answering to the name 'Mayuka,' and I'll be in a studded leather diaper—we'll meet at a boarding school for kid wizards and spank each other with stiletto heels while Teletubbies plays in the background. And let's film it!" OK, maybe your partner has never approached you with a bedroom request quite that elaborate… at least, one would hope he hasn't. But chances are, at some point he'll reveal a desire to you … Read More

From: sadielicious@yahoo.com Subject: unappreciated beauty Date: July 15, 2005 1:40:15 PM EDT To: letters@americanvixenmag.com

Dear American Vixen,

Thank you for your enlightening article, "Loving Your Bod While It's Gettin' Some Lovin'." Like many of the women profiled in your article, I have recently begun to suspect that my negative body image is impacting my sex life. I often find myself distracted from the heights of sexual ecstasy by the vigorous wobbling of my thighs, for instance. I took your confidence-boosting pointers to heart (I'm one of your biggest fans!), but I’m a little unsure about … Read More

After dismounting your partner's white stallion, Thundersnow, the two of you enjoy a candlelit meal of champagne and strawberries in the manicured organic garden next to the orphanage and motorcycle-repair shop he runs.

Your crystal flute empty, he immediately gives you a massage, until he's overcome by your beauty. His bulging triceps—though he's a wealthy philanthropist, he keeps in shape by working as a mailman, pool boy, and plumber—ripple as he tenderly, lovingly, emotionally rips off the size-two bodice you bought on sale.

And then, just when things are getting really good… your Tequiza-addled boyfriend accidentally falls off the futon.

That kind … Read More