FUCK YES
YOUR LIFE LOOKS SO FUCKING GOOD ON PAPER.
So why do you keep fantasizing about something more?
A few years ago, I was Googling apartments in Boston I had absolutely no intention of renting.
Fantasizing about a little place in the city that was mine. Taking pole-dancing classes. Having sex with people who weren’t my husband. Getting on a train somewhere in Europe with no one waiting for me at the other end.
I had an entire secret life happening in my imagination.
I wanted to call my girlfriends and say, “Can we please do something other than sit around a pool talking about our kids and our husbands? Like get naked under a full moon, build a fucking fire and howl or something?”
I wanted something.
And that was the maddening part. Because from the outside, my life looked good.
Nothing was visibly on fire. I wasn’t having some spectacular public breakdown.
I was still getting shit done. Still showing up as the woman everyone knew me to be.
But privately?
I could not stop wondering: Is this it?
Maybe you know that feeling.
Maybe you’ve had the burlesque class sitting open in your browser for six weeks. You’ve watched the videos. You’ve imagined yourself in the heels, moving your body for absolutely no reason except that it might feel fucking delicious.
And then you close the tab.
Maybe you keep looking at the red silk dress with the back cut down to there.
The one that makes your ass look so spectacular you turn around twice in the dressing-room mirror.
You want it.
And then you start thinking about where you’d wear it. Whether it’s too much. Whether you’re too much.
Back on the rack it goes.
Or maybe your fantasy is bigger.
Maybe there’s another version of your work, your relationship, your sex life, your entire fucking existence that you keep visiting in your imagination and then returning neatly to the life you already have.
Because your life is good.
And shouldn’t that be enough?
There it is.
That fucking word. Enough.
As though the life you wanted at 30 is the life you’re required to want at 50.
Fuck that.
The part of you Googling, fantasizing and occasionally thinking I want to blow the doors off this whole fucking thing isn’t having a midlife crisis.
She’s trying to get your attention.
Because you’re not done.
You get to want more fucking life.
And you don’t have to know what more fucking life means yet.
You just have to stop disappearing the moment you feel yourself come alive.
FUCK YES is the room where we practice that.
LOOK AT THE ABSOLUTE FUCKING NONSENSE WE HAVE ACCEPTED AS NORMAL.
You can manage a mortgage, raise children, lead a team, navigate a divorce, care for aging parents and remember which fucking day the dog gets his heartworm pill.
But wanting something just because you want it?
Apparently that requires a fucking permission slip.
You want the massage on the last day of your vacation and immediately think, We already spent so much money on this trip.
THE VACATION IS ALREADY IN TUSCANY, LINDA. GET THE FUCKING MASSAGE.
You want twenty minutes of someone going down on you and at minute four you’re already wondering if you’re taking too long.
You want an afternoon completely to yourself and somehow find yourself building a case for why you’ve earned it.
I’ve worked really hard this week.
I did the laundry.
I answered those emails.
I haven’t even taken a break today…
As though pleasure is the treat you get when you’ve been a very good girl and finished all your chores.
And you’re so used to doing this, it can sound like common sense.
Your body says: I want.
And somewhere between feeling it and actually letting yourself have the experience of wanting it, your brain opens a fucking committee meeting.
Is this practical?
Is this selfish?
What will he think?
What if I regret it?
Do I really need it?
Shouldn’t I just be grateful?
By the time everybody has finished presenting their objections, the original desire is sitting outside the conference room wondering what the fuck happened.
This is not about blindly doing everything you want. We’ll get to that.
It’s about something much more radical: letting yourself experience what is true before deciding what you’re going to do about it.
Because desire does not need to win every vote.
But it does get a fucking seat at the table.
THIS IS WHY I CREATED FUCK YES.
FUCK YES is a 12-week live, embodied experience for women who want their life to feel fucking electric again.
This is the thing you were looking for when you opened the burlesque tab.
When you Googled the apartment.
When you thought: I don’t even know what I want. I just know I want to FEEL something again.
I built a room for that.
Not another course to consume.
Not twelve weeks of talking about how to have a more interesting life while you sit in the same fucking chair taking notes.
FUCK YES is twelve weeks of experiencing yourself differently.
It’s admitting that the fantasy isn’t actually more date nights with your husband. It’s being pinned against a hotel-room door by somebody who looks at you like dinner.
It’s taking the idea you’ve been calling ridiculous for two years and suddenly finding yourself awake at midnight with a name for the fucking thing and the terrifying realization: Oh shit. I think I’m actually doing this.
It’s calling the person you can’t stop thinking about and hearing yourself say: “We used to have really good sex. Want to do that again?”
Then hanging up ten minutes later thinking: Holy fuck. Did I just do that?
It’s trying things you would normally talk yourself out of. Wanting things you can’t immediately explain. Feeling things you haven’t felt in years. Or maybe ever.
Pleasure.
Heat.
Nerves.
Hunger.
Electricity.
That little ooooooh that makes you sit up and think: There you fucking are.
Because I don’t want you spending the next decade becoming increasingly accomplished at living a life that doesn’t turn you on.
I want you back inside the fucking thing.
Not someday, after you’ve figured out exactly what needs to change.
Here. Now.
In a room deliberately built to give you the experiences, the women and the reps to practice being that alive.
Not a new woman you need to become.
You. With the volume turned back up.
WHAT IF THIS IS WHERE IT GETS REALLY FUCKING GOOD?
Not ‘good for your age.’
Not I’ve-learned-to-appreciate-the-little-things good.
I mean the chapter where you start looking around at your own fucking life thinking:
HOLY SHIT. I GET TO BE HERE FOR THIS.
Where you’re having the kind of sex that leaves you weak-kneed and glowing so fucking hard the next morning somebody asks if you’ve had work done.
Where you almost breeze past the black leather pants and then catch your ass in the dressing-room mirror and think: Oh. Well. HELLO.
Where your best friend texts you a villa in Greece at 11:47 on a Wednesday morning with three words: Should we do it?
And before you’ve assembled a committee, something inside you goes: Ohhhhh, fuck yes.
Suddenly you’re choosing the room with the private plunge pool and swimming naked at midnight.
Not because Greece is the assignment.
Because wanting your life is.
You have appetite again.
For sex that leaves you breathless.
For beautiful things against your skin.
For your own fucking life.
And maybe from the outside, not everything looks all that different.
Same house. Same work. Same people you love.
But you’re not watching your life from the fucking sidelines anymore.
You’re in it.
And somewhere along the way, you realize something almost outrageous:
You’re having more fun at 50 than you did at 30.
Not because you’ve become younger.
Because you’ve become more fucking you.
Because this isn’t the chapter where you slowly disappear.
This is where you become fucking impossible to miss.
Marcia felt the beginning of that inside FUCK YES:
“It feels really fucking good to feel turned on about my life again. I have a long ways to go, but I definitely feel the shift and this inner peace, and knowing that I have not felt in a while.”
And in the cohort WhatsApp, after sharing herself moving in her body:
“Another step closer to my home base! I can feel her!!”
MARCIA · FUCK YES ALUMNA
Turned on about your life.
Turned. The fuck. On.
What if that became the new bar?
AND YES, THIS CHANGES SEX.
Of course it does.
Because your erotic energy isn’t some cute little compartment of your life reserved for Saturday night and clean sheets.
It’s life force.
It’s the heat that makes you want to touch, create, play, risk, devour.
And when you’ve spent years being responsible and really fucking good at holding everything together, it’s easy to forget what that energy feels like when you stop keeping it on such a short leash.
That’s part of what we’re playing with inside FUCK YES.
Not becoming “more sexual.”
Becoming less contained.
Getting honest about what feels good and what doesn’t.
Staying with the pleasure when it comes instead of immediately managing or apologizing for it.
Asking for what you want instead of hoping somebody magically figures it out.
Experiencing sex less like something you have and more like somewhere you go.
Not because FUCK YES magically spikes your libido.
Because when you stop putting your own erotic energy in a cage, you finally get to find out what it can fucking do.
AND IT DOESN’T STAY IN THE BEDROOM.
That’s the thing about life force.
It has absolutely no respect for departmental boundaries.
You don’t become more willing to feel pleasure in bed and then neatly put that version of yourself away before Monday morning.
She comes with you.
Into the meeting where you hear yourself say, “Actually, I disagree.”
Into the dressing room where you stop asking whether your body is flattering the clothes and start asking whether the fucking clothes are worthy of your body.
Into the conversation where you finally say, “This isn’t working for me anymore.”
Because once you get used to being fully there, it’s surprisingly difficult to go back to being half-present.
Kieren came into FUCK YES wanting more connection to her body and her pleasure.
Then she started sleeping differently.
Her voice felt different.
She told me her auditions were the best they’d been in years.
She showed up to an audition in a bikini and instead of disappearing into everything she thought was wrong with her body, she felt wonderful.
Then she took a chapter of the memoir she’d been writing and shared it publicly at an art show.
Nobody assigned Kieren Become Better At Auditions as her fucking homework.
Something she’d been practicing in her body started showing up everywhere else.
Because when you stop spending so much energy containing yourself, you get all that fucking energy back.
Christina was inside the same room:
“I honestly feel changed after these 3 months together, both inside and out.”
CHRISTINA · FUCK YES ALUMNA
Both inside and out.
Not intellectually expanded.
Not usefully informed.
Changed.
SO WHAT ARE WE ACTUALLY DOING FOR TWELVE WEEKS?
First: you are not marching through twelve tidy modules like:
Week 1: Desire.
Week 2: Confidence.
Week 3: Congratulations, You Now Have a Pussy.
That’s not how any of this fucking works.
FUCK YES is a live practice.
Every Tuesday at 4 PM Eastern, we come together for 90 minutes and do the work in real time.
We move.
We feel.
We play.
We experiment.
We tell the fucking truth.
And over twelve weeks, we keep circling through five territories:
FEEL
Before What do I want? comes: What is actually happening in my body right now?
The heat in your chest.
The little pulse between your legs.
The sudden urge to move your hips.
The almost imperceptible nope your body gives you three seconds before your mouth says, Sure, that’s fine.
You start noticing yourself before you’ve had time to edit yourself.
WANT
And then we fuck with one of the most deceptively difficult sentences in the English language: I want…
No but.
No explanation.
No feasibility study.
No immediate reassurance that you don’t actually expect anyone to give it to you.
Just letting the fucking sentence finish.
Sometimes what comes out is tiny.
I want to lie in the sun.
Sometimes it surprises the hell out of you.
I want to be adored.
I want to make a ridiculous amount of money.
I want somebody to tell me what to do in bed.
You don’t have to do any of it. But you get to hear yourself say it.
RECEIVE
Then we find out what happens when something good actually comes toward you.
A compliment.
Attention.
Celebration.
Touch.
Pleasure.
Can you let it fucking land?
Can you hear You look incredible without immediately explaining the lighting?
Can you be celebrated for something you’re proud of without shrinking it into Oh, it was nothing?
Can you let pleasure keep happening without deciding halfway through that surely you’ve had enough by now?
We practice having more capacity for the good shit.
EXPRESS
Interior becomes exterior.
Through your voice. Your movement. Your boundaries. Your desire.
Maybe you make the sound instead of swallowing it.
Maybe you say I want that without immediately laughing it off or explaining yourself.
Maybe you say no without writing a five-paragraph fucking essay about why.
This isn’t performing or becoming louder for the sake of being loud.
It’s letting what is actually true on the inside have an exterior.
CHOOSE
And then you choose.
Because desire is information. It is not instruction.
Wanting something doesn’t mean you have to blow up your marriage, quit your job, buy the plane ticket or do one single fucking thing about it.
You get to feel it. Hear yourself say it. Let it be true.
And then you decide.
Desire gets a seat at the table.
It does not automatically become CEO.
But it is no longer locked outside the fucking building.
FEEL → WANT → RECEIVE → EXPRESS → CHOOSE
Not checked off and moved on.
Practiced.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until something that once required enormous courage starts feeling like: Oh. This is just how I live now.
WHAT DOES FUCK YES ACTUALLY FEEL LIKE?
Closing Ceremony · FUCK YES 2024
You log on carrying whatever the day handed you.
Laptop brain.
Grocery-store brain.
I-have-six-things-I-still-need-to-do brain.
And then the music starts.
Someone is bragging about something she normally would have minimized, and instead of politely saying that’s amazing, the women are fucking celebrating her.
Someone says: “I want…”
And doesn’t add “but…”
Doesn’t explain why it’s unrealistic.
She just lets the desire sit there in the room at full size.
And suddenly you can feel your own.
We move. We make sound. We notice where your body lights up and where it pulls away.
We play with receiving without batting the compliment back across the net.
With wanting without immediately negotiating.
Sometimes it’s hilarious. Sometimes it’s hot.
Sometimes something comes out of your mouth and you have that delicious little moment of: Oh fuck. Did I just say that?
And the women don’t rush in to fix you.
They celebrate you.
That’s the thing that’s hard to explain until you’ve been inside a room like this.
You don’t leave with six pages of notes about how to become more alive.
You leave with your cheeks warm. Your body awake. Something humming under your skin.
And maybe you’re walking into the kitchen afterward thinking: Oh fuck. There I am.
OKAY. WHAT EXACTLY AM I SAYING YES TO?
Twelve live sessions together.
November 3, 2026 through February 9, 2027.
Tuesdays at 4 PM Eastern.
No sessions November 24, December 22 or December 29.
90-minute live sessions on Zoom, with extended opening and closing ceremonies.
A private Skool classroom where everything you need for the work lives.
A private WhatsApp room for the cohort, because the experience doesn’t disappear the second we close Zoom.
This is not a library of videos you buy with excellent intentions and discover six months later underneath 847 unread emails.
You are not coming to watch me perform transformation at you.
You’re coming to participate.
To show up.
Try the thing.
Feel what happens.
Get scared.
Come back.
Try again.
Because you don’t need another library of information telling you how to be more embodied.
You need somewhere to be embodied.
And that is what FUCK YES is built to be.
AND THEN THERE ARE THE WOMEN.
You can feel things by yourself.
You can dance alone in your bedroom. Touch your own body. Write down what you want.
All of that matters.
And then another woman looks at you.
Now say it.
Say the desire while a room full of women are there to hear you.
Move your body while somebody is watching without turning it into a performance.
Tell the truth without softening it.
And watch what happens when the room doesn’t flinch.
You show more.
They stay.
You go further.
They lean in.
The women in FUCK YES are not an audience. They are part of the fucking mechanism.
Being witnessed while you are fully expressed is part of how your body learns: I can be this much here.
And every three weeks, you rotate into a Pleasure Pairing with another woman in the cohort.
Two of you. Three weeks. A more intimate place to practice between calls.
Before you picture an accountability buddy texting, Did you do your pleasure practice today? 😊
I would rather eat my own laptop.
This is not that.
You get another mirror. Another relationship. Another place to try being a little less edited.
Then three weeks later, you switch.
A different woman. A different mirror. Another rep.
Until your body starts collecting evidence: I can do this here.
And here.
And here too.
HI. I’M MARTA.
I didn’t create FUCK YES because I figured all of this out from a book.
I created it because I know exactly what it’s like to have a life that looks really fucking good on paper and still find yourself secretly Googling apartments, fantasizing about lovers and wondering: Where the hell did I go?
I went looking for myself.
Not for a better explanation of myself.
For the actual experience of feeling alive again.
That search changed my relationship to my body. My sexuality. My desire. My partnership. My visibility. What I believed I was allowed to want.
And it showed me something I couldn’t unsee: You can understand yourself beautifully and still not be having the fucking experience you want.
I also came to this work with a serious education in the body.
I have a master’s degree in Physical Therapy, including clinical training in anatomy, physiology, movement and working directly with people in their bodies. I’m a trained yoga and meditation teacher and a certified School of Womanly Arts Pleasure Coach. I’ve spent years studying neuroscience, somatics, behavior change, sexuality and embodied transformation.
But FUCK YES isn’t powerful because I know a lot of things.
It’s powerful because I know how to create a room where knowing stops being the fucking point.
A room where an intelligent, accomplished woman can stop analyzing herself long enough to actually experience herself.
Where she can tell the truth without being treated like a problem to solve. Be challenged without being shamed. Be witnessed without being managed.
And get enough actual reps of feeling, wanting, receiving, expressing and choosing that this work doesn’t just live in her head. It gets into her body.
That’s the room I know how to hold.
And that’s the room I’m inviting you into.
THE INVESTMENT.
$5,555
paid in full.
That is the complete investment for twelve weeks of live, embodied, relational work in a small cohort: weekly 90-minute sessions, four rotating Pleasure Pairings, private Skool classroom, private WhatsApp support, and extended opening and closing ceremonies.
No inflated value stack.
No manufactured urgency.
No early-bird pricing.
The price stands on the potency of the experience itself.
Klarna and Affirm may be available at checkout for eligible buyers.
- Applications close
- October 30
- We begin
- November 3
WHY THE APPLICATION?
Because the room is everything.
The women in FUCK YES affect each other. Who is inside matters.
The application isn’t a test of how evolved, sexual, embodied or fearless you are.
It’s how I make sure the room is right.
You don’t need to arrive with desire fully intact, libido firing on all cylinders or a perfectly articulated vision of what you want.
Just answer the questions like yourself.
I’ll take it from there.
ONE MORE THING.
There is a version of you who closes this tab.
She has a very good reason.
She always does.
The timing isn’t right.
I need to think about it.
I’ll come back to it after things settle down.
She’s been closing tabs for years.
And the thing about the tab is that it doesn’t disappear.
It just goes underground.
The desire doesn’t stop existing because you stopped looking at it.
It keeps showing up in the fantasies you entertain for thirty seconds before talking yourself out of them.
In the thing you almost buy and put back.
In the question you think at 2 AM and then decide not to examine too closely.
The cost of closing the tab is not dramatic. It’s quiet.
It’s one more desire that didn’t get to finish its sentence. One more flicker, felt and then managed.
You’re very good at this by now.
Wanting something and choosing something are not the same thing.
You know that.
The desire doesn’t have to mean anything until you decide it does.
And neither does wanting FUCK YES.
You don’t have to know where twelve weeks of being more honest, more embodied, more expressed and more fucking alive will lead.
But you’ve made it all the way down here.
So there is one thing you do know.
Something in you wants to find out.
You can close the tab again.
Or you can find out what happens when you don’t.
FUCK YES?