Since we're all on the subject of potentially gross things...
Period sex.
I'm a fan, if for no other reason than it helps alleviate cramps. I wasn't always so eager to fly my crimson flag, though. By the time I started menstruating, I lived in a household that was less than woman-friendly. It was impressed upon me that men must never be made aware that you've got that going on. Pads were to be wrapped in fifty rolls of toilet paper and hidden deep inside the wastebasket.
Of course, around the same time, I was given a stern little talking to about how evil The Cardigans' "Lovefool" was. So, it's not that shocking that this bit of womanly wisdom was quickly discarded once I began making the hell-bound beast with two backs.
It could be that I just date unusual men, but most of them have been game regarding period sex. More so than I am, even. (One ex and I ruined a snow white resort duvet cover, at his urging.) Maybe it has underlying meaning for me because it was verboten in my house. Without getting into the messy details, my mother's husband was a Grade-A ass, and it was his delicate little sensibilities that I was to spare by hiding all signs that I was becoming a woman. With the men I welcomed into my life, my period was not only known about, the blood was often smeared onto them. I think of it as the female equivalent to ejaculating on your lover: this came from inside my body (the evil genitals, no less!) and you're cool with having it smeared on you.
What's more accepting than that?