I Make Myself Dizzy

So there I am, drafting out a heart-felt post about how we really need to let go of these stupid body-image-induced fears:

***************************

Sure, different guys like different body types. Maybe he will think you are too heavy/thin/lopsided/proportional for him.

But here's a clue:

Clothes really don't hide that much.

They provide the illusion of disguise, of course, but remember, guys have that "X-ray Imagination" gene. If he's seen you, he's already formed a pretty decent idea about what you look like naked. Spent a lot of time on it, even.

So if he's pursuing you, drop the fear, cuz he's interested. 

He's not going to react to you taking off your clothes as though you've suddenly been revealed as one of those hairless farting aliens from Dr. Who.

Instead, the hands are going to come out and the groping will commence -- with fervor...

Because sex is not about your body, it's about what you do with your body. Or even better, what you let him do with your body.

***************************

And while I'm composing that draft?

I'm surfing tumblr and catch myself thinking, "shit, I really want to apologize to BG for not looking like these women…"

WHERE IS MY BRAIN??????

(if seen, please send it home. I have a hard enough time with it -- without it, there's practically no hope at all…)

Is it just me...?

While I absolutely love LoveFifi.com...

Does anyone besides me consider this to be a very silly bra design?

(*shades eyes and peers into the audience*)

The cut, I grant you, IS the sort of thing one wishes for on occasion. But realistically?

How on earth is that actually going to contain a danged thing -- much less two? (Unless maybe it ships with it's own can of aerosol adhesive?) 

Certainly, it looks lovely and alluring on this particular model. (Who, btw, is completely immobile and probably awash in said adhesive…)

But in MY life, the girls would be making a bolt for freedom every time I inhaled, much less actually moved. And don't even think about sneezing...

Maybe the issue is that this fits all the way up to DD, and they should probably stop at C.

Or have a recommended age range. 

"Mature Boob" disclaimers?

*sigh*

(I swear -- in my next life, I'm coming back flat-chested.)

Ask and Ye Shall Receive?

I got an email yesterday that began with the words, 

"Thank you for your submission"

Y'know..., I never get any of those from BG!

And I think it's time to change that...

I feel the time has come to petition for 

   "Due Subly Recognition"

Weekly emails of gratitude seem like a fine place to start. 

Got any other ideas for me?

(Anybody want in on this?)

Placeholder

Completely supparative week at work.

Too busy snarling to write anything.

Sit tight.

I'll be back!

Nothing to Do With Anything, But...

I've had this stuck in my head for days now, so I think you all should, too...

Misguided angel hangin' over me

Heart like a Gabriel, pure and white as ivory 

Soul like a Lucifer, black and cold like a piece of lead 

Misguided angel, love you 'til I'm dead

You're welcome!   :-)

Saturday Morning Nature Fact

This would be far more astonishing if I didn't know so many humans
that can talk through theirs...

I May Have Spoken Hastily

You know that, "this girl needs her hands on man" stuff…?

After injuries (not mine this time!) caused a significant gap in our regularly scheduled torture sessions, Mr. Ever-So-Hands-On returned last night.

Bound, guided, mangled, slapped, swatted, spanked -- all entirely by hand.

Really, really STRONG hand.

(remind me again what I was thinking??)

;-p

The Touch-Free Massage

So, my massage therapist has been training to do energy work and offered me a free session if I'd let her practice some of the new techniques she'd learned.

WhoooHOOOO! Free Massage!! Bring it On!!

"Well, I don't actually touch you during any of it… But it's very relaxing, you'll see."

ah… a touch-free massage... okaaay...

But you know what? It was relaxing. 

It was kind of like the time someone cleaned my aura by whisk-brooming the air about my body with their splayed fingers. A pleasant little tingling sensation, sort of gentle cosmic tickling. Nothing like a traditional massage but there was more there than I'd anticipated.

Which makes it a good metaphor for my little foray into online D/s.

Now, I know that everyone's experience is different, so I'm only talking about me here, but… 

I'd always been skeptical of how online could work, unable to comprehend getting so very wrapped up in someone you never actually meet. But BG had gone to ground and I honestly thought he was gone. (This was back before I gained confidence in his eventual returns…) Into this morass of uncertainty and abandonment came someone who talked to me, made me laugh, and then made me an offer. 

Lonely, doubtful yet curious, I decided to give it a shot. 

I figured at the very least I might gain some understanding. 

Which I did, although not exactly where I'd expected.

For one thing, I did gain a lot of insight into the workings of an online relationship, something that had completely baffled me before. I got a good feel for just how real and all-consuming this type of "one step removed" interaction can feel. I even learned that I can respond positively to high protocol, although it's nothing I actually like, particularly. 

(File that under "Useless But Satisfactory Bits of Knowledge"). 

All in all, it was a far more absorbing experience than I had ever imagined it could be.

The biggest revelation, however, came about when our little foray ended.  Because at that point, I realized just how deeply my submission is rooted in my head. Sure, I was briefly distraught by the parting, but I quickly realized that I really wasn't at all hurt by the loss of this person who I didn't actually know, but by the loss of what he did for me. 

Or, more accurately, what he enabled me to do for myself. 

Basically, his dominance was the means by which I was able to immerse myself in a headspace where I believed my own story. Except, he'd never really touched the inner girl, he just triggered a fantasy -- and knee-jerk reactions do not a relationship make.

From that came the next important realization:

That those dominants who'd been telling me that BG wasn't doing it right, were themselves wrong. Because BG may not be following the course of action they think is called for with me, but HE is the one who takes me beyond mere reaction, the one with whom I create that synergistic energy that binds and sustains us as Dominant and submissive. 

So basically, the most important knowledge gained from this experience was of just what is right and good in my relationship with BG. 

(Probably not at all what online guy was going for but…) 

I emerged with a much clearer understanding of what I have and what I want.

And what *I* want is not touch-free.

This girl needs her hands-on man.

Feeding Time

Sometimes when we play, he'll tease, "I'll bet your pussy is on fire..."

Which is always accurate at that point, of course.

But not the part that's driving me mad right then, however.

No, in these situations, the overwhelming sensation is located even deeper.

Because most of the time, what I'm feeling is hunger.

Deep, ravenous, gut-wrenching HUNGER.

Hunger to be fed.

Hunger to be appeased.

Hunger to be satiated.

Fortunately, he's good with gluttony...
(not to mention highly responsive!)

A Thumbnail Sketch

The other day, I went for my very first ever professional manicure. Surprising, I know, but nail primping is not something I usually bother about. I'm hard on my hands and my nails take the brunt of the abuse. Polish lasts about 27 hours max, so not only have I never wanted to spend the money, I almost never even make the effort at home. Clean and filed are about the best you're gonna get from this girl.

However, Tuesday afternoon found me emerging from the salon lost in admiration for my bright pink fingernails. And spending the next day and a half being startled whenever I caught a glimpse of fuchsia out of the corner of my eye. I truly had a split second, every time, of thinking those hands belonged to someone else. 

It was like becoming the title figure in an Oliver Sacks book... "The Woman Who Could Not Recognize Her Own Hands"

I found this brush with somatoparaphrenia fascinating. (Oh, c'mon. How often do most of us get a chance to drop that one into conversation?) That such a trivial physical alteration could so strongly affect my perception of self astounds me. 

Haircuts, I understand, but fingernail polish?!? 

It made me stop a minute to reflect on how powerfully our perceptions can influence our reality. (And to decide my life is long overdue for a bit of a shakeup, if pink nail polish can disconcert me!) 

But it's an interesting ponder -- to consider how much we may hamstring ourselves by relying on this trait of human nature; to wonder how much broader our worlds might be if we didn't hem ourselves in with our perceptions. 

As William Blake puts it, " If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is, infinite." 

Probably the most intriguing thought that struck me, however, was the fact that, although pink polish on my fingertips rendered me a lurking stranger to myself, bright red rope around my boobs has no disassociative effect whatsoever.

Guess there are some perceptions it's OK to trust, huh?  ;-)

Just When You Thought It Was Safe...

to read my blog again... I found another question to answer!

This time it comes from the TMI Tuesday blog.

"If you were spring cleaning your life what five things would you throw out?"

OK, True Confessions Time:

Hi, I'm Jz and I'm a packrat.

I am Terrible, Horrible, Awful at getting rid of anything.

If it's dysfunctional equipment, well, I might need the parts.

Broken furniture? 

   I might fix it some day…

A book? 

   I might want to re-read it.

Undersized clothing? 

   I might lose weight some day… (and pigs may fly)

Entire bureaus full of fabric?

   This is a genetic susceptibility, leave me alone.

My father's old jeans and sweatshirts? 

   Why gross up mine with paint and chainsaw lube?

Candles that look like pillars of vomit?

   My nephew bought those for me with his saved allowance… cherished items, thank you.

Yep, I'm a Cancer -- we like us our nests, snug and secure around us.

But I think if I had to choose:

   I would shed this very tendency and be better at letting things go.

   I would definitely deep-six the body issues.

   I would lose the lackadaisical approach to securing financial security.

   I'd see the backside of procrastination.

   Weenie Girl would be braver.

One thing you will never, ever, EVER see me throwing out, however.

My friends. 

(And I do not say that just because Cancers are also "tenaciously loyal")

I've recently had occasion to be reminded of just how rare and wise and wonderful those dearest to me actually are. And despite appearances, my mama didn't raise no fool...

Cherished items stay right where they are.

OK, now that title fits!

"Little Jz, Happy at Last"

because Popeyes finally came to town!

(it's the red beans and rice, it's totally the red beans and rice...)

Oh, dear...

It's my habit to send him weekly pictures of things I find attractive, compelling, hot… 

Not everything implies, "Please, sir?", but an awful lot of the ideas do show up (even if in modified form) at some future play date.

This time, I also tacked on one that had made me laugh because it's just so over the top.
I called it, "An example of someone who has too much rope and time on their hands…"

"I dunno. They all look equally good to me."

*gulp*

I REALLY hope he's talking in the abstract…!

Do I Hear a "Maybe"?

Further thoughts on my struggle with not struggling…

It's a difficult balance, to be as independent as life can require and yet remain willing to relinquish our death-grip on autonomy and even (*gasp*) accept help when needed. Especially for those of us involved in D/s relationships, where the consequences of each action are both more threatening and more crucial... 

I once mentioned to a friend that I could understand why a woman might choose to end a comfortable relationship for no other reason than to find out if she could stand on her own two feet - that I had, in fact, done that with Penultimate Beau.

She Who Has Known Me For Over Forty Years was absolutely floored to hear that I had ever entertained doubts about my ability to stand alone. "Really?? You've felt that way? You're such a free spirit, I would just never have thought... Really??"

(Ever wonder if there is anyone in the world who actually sees the same person you do when you look in the mirror?)

But yes, I felt that way. It was during the time of Jz the Obscure, when I realized I no longer recognized myself. An unfortunate side effect to this time as the Amazing Disappearing Woman was that I lost faith in my ability to take care of me. I had to put myself through the crucible to test this -- but I emerged armed with the knowledge that yes, I Could Do It! 

So it's not that I haven't had my struggles over losing control -- it's just that mine were largely resolved before I ever discovered D/s.

I wonder if that accounts for some of the difference?

Necessary Components

SP has long insisted that not only do I do myself a disservice when I over-think but that I really mess up by doing that when trying to understand men and what they want.

"We are simple creatures. Give us a beer and get nekkid -- we're happy."

It had been a little longer than usual since I saw BG but our timing finally fell into place...

   "Tonight still good?"

   "absolutely! -- You want anything special?"

   "Water…

   Your naked body kneeling before me…

   Your wanton slut's mouth…

   … that'll do it …"

Apparently beer is optional...  ;-D