Do you have pet names for your genitals?

A few Saturdays ago, I went shopping with a girlfriend. We didn’t mean to shop. We meant to drink coffee and eat cake. I can prove this because we had some of our children with us and everyone knows children are the natural enemy of shopping.

No sane person would ever willingly choose to try on clothes while accompanied by anyone too young to drive. It’s insanity meets extreme sport with a dollop of masochism on top to seal the deal.

Giddy with caffeine and sugar, however, we decided we could totally handle popping into one little boutique on the way back to the car. While my friend ducked into the fitting room to try on a dress, I flicked distractedly through the racks while trying to watch three children with two eyes. You do the math.

After approximately 100 years, my friend emerged from behind the curtain with a look on her face that was part rage, part mortification. I recognised that look. It meant there was no mirror inside the change room and she wanted to harm the boutique owner and then cower under the nearest chair.

As she stood self-consciously in front of the poxy public mirror, checking out her reflection, she called for some input on the dress. “Is it too short?” she asked me.

“No,” I assured her. “Not at all.” She wasn’t convinced. “Your legs look great!” Still not. “Look, it’s not like I can see your vagina or anything.”

As we were talking, the kids had gathered to loudly inform us they wanted to leave. Having caught the end of our conversation, my friend’s 4-year-old daughter began to chant “Va-GINA, Va-GINA, Va-GINA, VAa-GINA” while leaping about doing ballet on the shop floor.

Naturally, being a mature adult, I burst out laughing. But my friend was cross. With me. “Thanks a LOT” she muttered under her breath while looking like she wanted to smack me about the head with a coat hanger. I was baffled. “What?” I asked, trying to stop giggling. “We don’t use that word,” she whispered back to me.

“You mean vagina?” She nodded. “Well what do you call it?” I replied. “We call it a ‘La-La’” she said. I blinked. “What, like the Teletubby?”

She wasn’t amused and we abandoned our shopping shortly afterwards, with the Va-GINA song ringing in our ears as we headed home. See what can happen when you mix caffeine, sugar, shopping and kids? Very bad things.

In my family, we were taught to call genitals by their proper names. Just like any other noun or body part. My mother believed it was important that we knew what was what. In public, we did occasionally use the euphemisms “front bottom” and “back bottom” but from quite young, I knew the proper names for all the bits.

I’ve since discovered it’s a philosophy not everybody shares. There are many people who aren’t comfortable with the correct anatomical words for male and female genitals. Then there are all those people who, after they become parents, just fall into cutesy nicknames in the same way baby-talk causes you to dumb down all kinds of words until you find yourself in an adult conversation referring to din-dins and reminding yourself you need to buy milkies on the way home.

So why the reluctance to call various bits by their proper names? And by encouraging kids to use terms like La-La or Shiny or Wee-Wee, what are we actually teaching them about their bodies?

Granted, the real words are not terribly pretty but we’re yet to settle on widely accepted substitutes, at least not when it comes to women.

As The Age’s senior writer Suzy Freeman-Greene wrote recently in an article about the increasing number of women electing to have cosmetic surgery on their genitals, “…as the shape of the vagina becomes a crazy new source of angst, we still don’t even have an affectionate word to describe it. Where is the cosy, non-threatening equivalent to ”willy”? This linguistic absence speaks volumes about social attitudes towards female genitalia. Meanwhile, the c-word endures as a form of abuse.”

This is true although I’d like to take a moment to cast my vote for ‘Lady Garden’ and ‘Va-Jay-Jay’ – two of my favourite euphemisms.

Perhaps the most compelling (and sobering) reason for teaching kids the proper words comes from child protection experts. They cite research showing that many kids don’t report ‘rude’ behaviour because they’re worried about using ‘rude’ words which could get them into trouble.

They also point out that if a child goes to a teacher or another adult to tell them something inappropriate has occurred, it’s important they be easily understood. Saying “Joey touched my Shiny” might not get the point across clearly enough.

To help parents teach kids what’s what, there’s a kids’ book called “Everyone’s Got A Bottom” which was published a few years ago by Queensland Family Planning in collaboration with experts from the early childhood and child protection sectors. The website describes it as “..a tool for parents and carers to gently start a conversation with children about self protection.”

And no, Lady gardens aren’t mentioned.

What were you brought up to call your bits? If you have kids, what do you teach them?

Are you squeamish about words like penis, vagina, testicles and clitoris? If you don’t use these words, what do you say?