Editor’s note: This article contains frank discussion of sexual topics. Reader discretion is advised.
Grace Robinson’s closest friend is Missy.
Missy is reliable, discreet and a pleasure to be around – and she will never ask, “what’s for dinner?”
Robinson says every woman should get to know Missy.
“I have over 50 sex toys and Missy mini is my favourite ‘girl’. I take her everywhere; she’s quiet, has lasting power and gives me unbelievable orgasms every single time.”
Robinson is a 27–year-old junior doctor – who also reviews books and sex toys on her popular Instagram, Hoes for Prose.
She’s speaking publicly to encourage women of all ages to be sexually empowered and embrace their eroticism.
However, Robinson isn’t so effusive about 50 Shades of Grey, a dildo that “goes off” like a smoke alarm.
“It’s ridiculously big, and clearly designed by a man. When I’m about to board a flight, I am less inclined to carry something that looks like a penis through the scanner. These days not all sex toys look like penises; Missy could easily be mistaken for an ear thermometer,” Robinson says.
Robinson says she isn’t a ‘sexpert’ but was raised in a medical family that spoke openly about pleasure and sex positivity.
She is the eldest daughter of the Director-General of Health, Diana Sarfati, and her father, Simon, is an ear, nose and throat surgeon.
“Men chase women, women withhold sex – that’s the dynamic that’s been created. We tend to associate sexuality with masculinity and penetrative sex. Sex toys allow women to reclaim their sexuality and we need to reframe what pleasure looks like.
“There is a toy for every occasion but there is still a stigma, especially with cis men; they may feel emasculated by a sex toy or associate it with competition, like ‘if you need a toy, then I’m not doing something right’.”
In promoting safe, consensual sex, Robinson has one rule: “never ever” introduce toys while you’re “mid-sex” with a toy virgin.
“That’s awkward and can be freaking scary. Read the room and take things slowly.”
It was during the first Covid-19 lockdown in 2020 that Robinson started her Hoes for Prose reviews.
Dame Jacinda Ardern follows her account and Robinson has recommended books to family friend and former Director-General of Health, Sir Ashley Bloomfield.
“The idea came about after conversations with my girlfriends who never masturbated and rarely experienced an orgasm. I thought, ‘What?’ Women aren’t educated enough about their own pleasure. I said, ‘Mum, I need to start talking about sex’.”
Robinson’s mother is her closest confidante, while her father offers pragmatic advice, but steers clear of sex toy chat.
“I go to mum for everything, she is wise, gentle and empathetic.
“Dad is proud of me from the sidelines, but I’m not super-enthused talking to my dad about sex toys.
“Mum and I have a totally open dialogue and I love that. Everyone in my family has had a sex toy recommendation including my grandparents – it didn’t go down well.”
Robinson grew up in Seatoun, an affluent coastal suburb in Wellington, aka “Jackson town,” named after Lord of the Rings director, Peter Jackson.
As a little girl, she was a chatterbox who was always “in charge” – “nothing has changed,” she says.
She always wanted to be a doctor to make a difference in the world and solve problems.
“I am acutely aware of my white privilege and how I can use this to address inequity in the health system by constantly being the best ally I can.”
But it took her three attempts to get into medical school and once she was there, she struggled with her mental and physical health.
In her first year at the University of Otago, Robinson battled an eating disorder.
She was living at a hall of residence, falling behind in her medical studies and became depressed. When she thought her grades weren’t good enough, she began binge-eating and had suicidal thoughts.
“I tried three times to get into medical school; first-year health science was brutal. I binged on junk food and hid food under my bed. I spent lots of time alone and I was depressed, which made it harder to study. I gained a lot of weight and started to lose control.”
Although Robinson’s life was unravelling, she never made a plan to end it. Instead, she talked to her mother and friends on the phone, which helped a lot.
“Rather than wanting to die, I wanted to remove myself from the situation I was in. I knew if I did take my life, I would be destroying other lives. I’m lucky I never got there.”
By the end of her fourth year at university, Robinson had realised the sadder she got, the more she ate.
Despite trying multiple diets and exercising, she couldn’t lose weight. And doing hospital rounds made her sweaty and short of breath.
So four years ago, Robinson had weight loss surgery.
“I had a gastric sleeve [surgery] so my stomach was turned into a pouch. I think I lost about 85 per cent of my stomach, and that’s permanent. At first, I could only eat four tablespoons of food. I lost my hair and I was constipated. It’s not glamorous – you don’t wake up and suddenly you are skinny and feel better.”
Her skin became saggy after the operation, and Robinson felt alien in her body. She later had a breast lift and tummy tuck to tighten her skin.
Robinson, who is a vegetarian who loves eating cheese and pasta, says surgery isn’t a quick fix and she still has the urge to binge.
“It’s a challenge and an ongoing process. I would overeat on purpose, knowing my new stomach couldn’t take it, and end up vomiting that food – it’s something I still deal with.”
After completing her studies with an internship at North Shore Hospital, Robinson is now a house officer for Te Whatu Ora Waitematā. She wants to specialise in paediatrics and women’s health.
Happily single, she says she is yet to meet Dr “McDreamy”. But when she does, her perfect relationship will involve both human contact and a little help from Missy.
“Humans offer true intimacy and touch. Sex toys give me unquestionable orgasms – they are my ‘girls,’ and I can always count on them. Humans offer me affection, which these ladies can’t. They are good together – teamwork makes the dream work.”
Get in touch with Eating Disorders Association of New Zealand on 0800 2 EDANZ, or email info@ed.org.nz, for help finding a private provider in your area.
Carolyne Meng-Yee is an Auckland- based investigative journalist. She has worked for the Herald since 2007 and was previously a commissioner at TVNZ and a current affairs producer for 60 Minutes, 20/20 and Sunday.
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