Friday, June 16th, is Boobday!

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I’m going to have to cut back a little on the working out as some weird posterior/interior ankle muscle of some kind has decided to flare up.  My chiropractor said it’s a common thing from overuse.  I’m a little chagrined by that, to be honest, but I’ll take it as a warning that my body isn’t quite the wonderland I’d hoped – at least not yet.

Softball has started up again, too, and with that a whole host of minor injuries.  But I’m in pain anyway, so might as well live life, right?

And speaking of which, I’m feeling quite proud of myself.  Next Tuesday will be the end of my Whole30 and I plan on easing back in to the cut out food groups to see which I react to negatively.  I honestly can’t wait for some fucking bread and cheeeeeese, though I know I’ll have a bad reaction.  Oh well.

Anyway, it’s a small set of lovely breasts that I have to bring you here.  I don’t know where Kim from South Africa has wandered off to (I hope you’re on a wonderful vacation or something!), but we have our stalwart star, Sandy with us still!  To the bloggers who faithfully link and post every week, THANK YOU AND I THINK YOU’RE AMAZING.  The fact that we all look so different, yet present ourselves as not only beautiful and sexy, but as normal and real makes me so proud of all of us.  Please don’t ever stop!

I hope you’re all having a fantastic June!

xx

Hy

Full Boobday Guidelines here.

One of two ways to participate:

1) either submit a pic to me via email (hyacinth.jones@hotmail.com) OR

2) submit a link below to your own blog post for Boobday.

Also, just as a reminder:

If you send me a pic, be sure to tell me if you want to be anonymous or not and what your pseudonym is (if you have one or I gave you one)

Tell me why you chose the photo you sent

And don’t forget to comment on everyone’s posts! This is all about spreading the love!

My tits:

Feelin’ fine.

 

 

NOT my tits:

Sandy looks like spilt milk on a gingham tablecloth.

Basking in the warmth of the sun like a content kitty. 


He wrote back.

Suddenly, I’m filled with words.

I admit my stomach dropped when I saw his name in my inbox.  I didn’t expect to hear from him that quickly, let alone at all.

I had held no punches, pulled back the curtain to reveal my years of suffering.  Before I’d hit Send, my finger had wavered over the button, unsure.  I knew it would hurt him and that wasn’t what I wanted, but I pressed it because of my pain.  I had to at least attempt to stop the flow.

His response was short, curt almost.

He had misinterpreted my very first shot across the bow as an olive branch as I had feared.  I thought I’d been very clear of my confusion in writing, but perhaps his hopes overshadowed my words.

He asserted his memory of our history was “different” from mine and said he didn’t want to argue over it.

He will be moving out the beginning of October, “so there won’t be further cause for you to feel anxiety about possibly running into me after that.”

He then suggested that it was best we didn’t communicate anymore and he would no longer be responding to my emails (as if I were wanting a dialogue).

I had sat down to read, but as I finished I realized I’d held my breath and my heart was racing.  I let it out and with it the wall began to crumble.  A tear sprang to my eye, but quickly dried.  I was pleased with the response — he seemed shaken, which means I got through to him — but also sad.  He didn’t address one thing other than to say he has a different memory “of our history,” whatever that means.

And I knew I’d hurt him.

I felt vindicated, but equally ashamed.  Proud and embarrassed.  All this time, though, he has believed me to have happily moved on, free of guilt or responsibility.

Then the anger came in large, indignant swells.

What do you mean by you “have a different take on our own history”??  Did you not come over to my house one day and say you wanted a break?  Did we not then not discuss a single thing?  Did you not then dump me?  Had you not denied anything being wrong for you for the entire preceding year whenever I’d asked?? 

As I drove home I fact-checked my own memory.  No, all those things had happened.  I didn’t know what he was remembering differently from me.

Perhaps it was my claim that him dating that woman from the gym overlapped with his insistence he was happily single and wanted to remain that way.  No, I fact-checked that the moment I’d seen the images.  They began around August/September, clearly at odds with his false claims.

Maybe it was that I knew he’d lied about other things which I didn’t list?  He doesn’t know to which I’m referring so he can’t possibly refute my belief there.

I had attached the very first and last screenshots of his AFF visits.  He didn’t mention that either, but perhaps he believes AFF just randomly listed him in my visitors.

The only thing he addressed was my anxiety, which to be honest I’m thankful for.  I now have something to look forward to in regards to him for the first time in 2 1/2 years.

He could have said so many other things, really grown up things.

Things like, “Jesus Christ, Hy, I am so sorry that I hurt you like that.  You’re right, I should have told you so much sooner, I just couldn’t muster the courage and I didn’t want to hurt you; I hoped my feelings would change, etc,” or “I’m sorry for looking at your AFF account.  It’s been hard not being your friend and so I periodically check in on you in hopes you’d know I was thinking about you.  I won’t do it anymore,” or “You’re right, I did lie to you about wanting to date other women because I was afraid I’d lose you.  I really fucked that up,” or even, “I can see how it looked like it over-lapped, but it was just really close timing and I even surprised myself by dating her when I thought I wasn’t into dating.”

But he didn’t.

He doubled down and shut down.

My version of events likely fly in the face of the story he’s told himself so he can sleep at night.  It’s his very human right to remember things differently, but now it’s my turn to sleep.

I wrote the letter for me, not expecting anything in return, but what he did give me has lightened my heart immensely.  He knows how I feel – possibly for the first time ever – and that’s all I needed.  I just needed him to know.

I sent it.

I sent the letter – a revision of the first – that neatly explained the things he knew nothing about.

  1. His abandonment of me has really fucked me up.
  2. I know he’s a liar.
  3. His proximity by virtue of remaining in our complex causes me great anxiety.
  4. I don’t appreciate him openly viewing my AFF profile.

I kept it as short as possible – and narrowly focused – so that my message would be received.  I wanted him to know that his choices hurt another human being, and hopefully not irrevocably.  I wanted him to know that I was still in pain due to all of the aforementioned things and, most importantly, I wanted him to know that I was making a choice to no longer hide or hold onto them.   I needed him to know.

I’ve set them down and I’ve backed away.  What happens next is entirely up to the Universe.

Thank God I see my therapist later today.

Here’s to moving the fuck past all this shit.

Friday, June 9th, is Boobday!

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School is out here and I’ve spent the week juggling work and child.  I don’t have enough money for camps this summer again, so my parents are coming in for the big win this summer.  Bike rides, sewing lessons, watching the lead up to the Comey hearing.  The usual things you do with your grandchildren.

I have two posts I need to write.  One where I had great sex with a really nice man and one where I was coerced and groped by a really not nice man.  I’ll write those this weekend.  I’ve held off writing them because it feels like a reward to write when I haven’t yet written to The Neighbor.  I am revising my letter to bullet points.  If he wants to read the narrative I’ll happily send it on, but I’ve decided short and sweet is the way to go.  Wish me luck!

This week I have more lovely women to share with you.  Miss S shares her longing for her husband who’s passed, Sandy and Miss Over 50 also join in and we have a new participant, Mike’s Lady.

Here’s to another week of holding on!

xx

Hy

Hy

Full Boobday Guidelines here.

One of two ways to participate:

1) either submit a pic to me via email (hyacinth.jones@hotmail.com) OR

2) submit a link below to your own blog post for Boobday.

Also, just as a reminder:

If you send me a pic, be sure to tell me if you want to be anonymous or not and what your pseudonym is (if you have one or I gave you one)

Tell me why you chose the photo you sent

And don’t forget to comment on everyone’s posts! This is all about spreading the love!

My tits:

I hurt my back and couldn’t do this right now if you paid me.

NOT my tits:

I love the pearls and the darkness in this image of Miss Over 50.
Lace and pearls and a glass, I mean bottle, of my favorite wine…

::

Miss S sitting with her loneliness.
I was laying in bed the other night thinking about my husband and how much I miss being touched by him.
::
Sandy’s beautiful jugs.

Just hanging out in the office

::

Mike’s Lady has long wanted to post.

She is a a huge fan of yours and always wanted to participate on your page and as her husband I want her to do what she wants.

Click below for more ladies!


I finished the letter.

And now I don’t know if I’ll send it.

The world seems to be crumbling around us and I can’t be bothered to focus on my anger today.

Instead I’m focused on surviving, trying to pay rent, being healthy, my baby, just living.

But I’m ashamed to admit that a part of the reason I didn’t immediately hit send once I’d proofread it three times and signed my name is because I’m afraid of hurting him.  Even now, two-and-a-half years later, I’m afraid of saying something that will hurt him.  And I’m afraid he’ll say, “No, Hy, you were the asshole.”  But I’ll have to handle it, I want to handle it, I need to handle it.

He’s probably thinking that this is the beginning of us being friends and it’s that misinformed expectation that causes me pause.  I held no punches and described what the last couple of years have been like for me, which have not been pretty.  God, why am I so afraid of hurting him??  All I’m doing is sharing what my life has been like in the wake of our relationship, his lies.

I’m afraid of being wrong.  That’s all it is.  I’m afraid he’ll say, “None of that is true and none of your feelings matter,” just like I was always told as a child.  I have zero experience telling someone they’ve hurt me and getting a sincere and heartfelt apology back and this is even scarier because I don’t have a relationship with this man anymore; I don’t expect an apology, but I suppose I do expect a retaliation.  And I’m ok with that.

I am not expecting him to help me move on or bring closure. 

I’m doing that, that’s my job.  The creation of this letter is purely for me to send it, not for me to receive something back.  I am responsible for me, he’s not.

It would be a dream come true, though, if he came at me on his knees and confirmed all my suspicions of lies and deceit.  It’d be poetic because there’s something sick about having a gut feeling things are off, but being told you’re crazy and not to worry only to discover later you were absolutely right when your boyfriend of 3 years walks out on you one day.  A lot like that paper cut on your tongue as you suck a lemon.

It’s late and I have an early start tomorrow.  I wonder how the letter will read in the light of a Monday morning.

Friday, June 2nd, is Boobday!

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I’m on Day 12 of the Whole30 and I’m almost past the headaches.  It’s funny how for weeks (possibly months) now I’ve been reliant on wine to wind down after a long, stressful day.  I don’t even think about it now.  I just chill and have some nice peach iced tea.  The mornings are infinitely more pleasant without the vestiges of alcohol to muddy my start, too.

I’m sore constantly thanks to Orange Theory.  Like, so sore I can barely sit on the toilet or walk up stairs.  I remember when I was an athlete in high school and the first couple of weeks of swimming were pretty brutal.  But we all got back into the swing of things eventually and that’s what I’m waiting for now.  I may be 41, but my heart is still in the game.

I had yet another horrible first date with a handsy, creepy Frenchman (I’ll post about that soon) but also some really great sex with a new guy who’s so nice it hurts, but whose overall aesthetic isn’t really my style.  I’m focusing on all the orgasms I had, though, and not all the hair that was in my face.

I’ve written a draft email for The Neighbor.  It’s not finished yet.  I’m still thinking and feeling it out.  A reader left an incredible, heartfelt comment this morning with a nothing short of mind-blowing quote by Mary Oliver: “Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”

Love you all with all my debauched little heart.

xx

Hy

Full Boobday Guidelines here.

One of two ways to participate:

1) either submit a pic to me via email (hyacinth.jones@hotmail.com) OR

2) submit a link below to your own blog post for Boobday.

Also, just as a reminder:

If you send me a pic, be sure to tell me if you want to be anonymous or not and what your pseudonym is (if you have one or I gave you one)

Tell me why you chose the photo you sent

And don’t forget to comment on everyone’s posts! This is all about spreading the love!

My tits:

Pretty much my mood always lately.

NOT my tits:

Sandy has curves.

 

 

 


Friday, May 26th, is Boobday!

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What a crazy week.

I’ve started a Whole30 again and Orange Theory Fitness, helped Peyton do some really fun school things, worked my ass off at work, cooked dinner, done all the dishes, fed all the animals, made my bed, cleaned the house, went shopping, ran errands, made calls, not had a drop of alcohol, wrote a post about emailing the man who broke my heart, planned two back-to-back international trips — which are happening due solely to my friend and family’s graciousness and generosity — and even remembered to do Boobday on time.  I’m proud of myself and it’s only Thursday.

This week we have only one woman who is participating, but it’s a haunting, beautiful image from Miss S.  I’m sure you’ll love it like I do.

Thanks again to everyone.  I hope you feel my love.

xx

Hy

Full Boobday Guidelines here.

One of two ways to participate:

1) either submit a pic to me via email (hyacinth.jones@hotmail.com) OR

2) submit a link below to your own blog post for Boobday.

Also, just as a reminder:

If you send me a pic, be sure to tell me if you want to be anonymous or not and what your pseudonym is (if you have one or I gave you one)

Tell me why you chose the photo you sent

And don’t forget to comment on everyone’s posts! This is all about spreading the love!

My tits:

First pic I’ve taken in a couple of weeks.

NOT my tits:

The longing Miss S…
Just out of the bath…looking up thinking of him.
Lost my husband unexpectedly 2 days before Christmas.  This is for him <3 I always took pictures for him. Since I can’t send it to him I figured I’d send it to you.

 

 


I emailed The Neighbor.

I emailed The Neighbor two nights ago.

I’d had a glass or two of white wine, there was a late Spring chill in the air, Sinatra was playing on the record player.  Every sock drawer had been organized, every bill paid, all the laundry folded.   There were no hanging chads in my life, so to speak and it was as if suddenly I had nothing else to do but email him.

So I did.

As my fingers slid across the keys it was an out-of-body experience.  Was I really doing this?  It’d been a year and a half since we’d seen each other, more than two since he dumped me.  Why was I doing this??

Even as I wrote I knew it was an awkward stream of consciousness.  “I’m genuinely curious to know if you’re great or struggling.  After two long years apart I continue to work hard to trust and be open.  I basically trust no one; it’s almost a joke.  So, I guess I’m admitting to you that I’m not great.”  But I didn’t care and hit Send anyway.

The next morning I did a game recap with surprised friends.  Ann and Meredith were supportive, but both wanted to know what my hopes were.  Why now after all this time??

I had a toothbrush in my mouth when it hit me: breaking the silence I imposed upon us was for me.

My stoic acceptance of his decision to end the relationship without so much as a discussion about it, my reluctant agreement to be friends because that’s what he needed, my heartbreaking realization that I still loved him and had to say goodbye, my stifled, private rage at discovering a trail of lies and blatant dismissal of everything I’d ever wanted, my enduring pain at seeing his car every day and sustained, low-level anxiety of running into him while at home.  I did all of that alone — he bore not one ounce of the burden, not for one second — I kept it all.

It seemed to me during our few times meeting as friends in the 9 months after we broke up that whenever I let my pain become evident, let it slip out ever so slightly, he would cringe.  Whether it was from guilt, fatigue, or disdain I have no idea, but I was intent on buttoning up more tightly for two reasons: 1) I didn’t want him to have anything of me and 2) I didn’t want to hurt him.

As I wrestled with the leaching reality of abandonment and betrayal I believed that responding to it would be losing something.  I didn’t want him to get anything from me ever again — not one calorie of energy — even the pain, sorrow, and stifling lack of trust he left behind.

And even though he absolutely deserved to see the lacerations of his lies upon me I didn’t want him to feel badly.  That would be a direct link to my issue with ever being open about my real feelings about someone or something.  If my feelings hurt or upset someone then they are implicitly wrong, right??

And now it seems that what I did was create a void where all that feeling had no where to go but to me and so I have festered.  I have fucked, flaked, fought, and floundered until I am completely and utterly uninterested in not only men in general, but even sex.  Why bother when every time I let a dick get near me it literally disappoints me?  Think about the double entendre there.  It’s intentional.

He replied today, overly friendly to be honest.  How dare he call me his pet name after everything he’s done to me?  Should I list them all for you or just hyperlink like crazy??  The point is, the tone of my note was not familiar, so why respond to it in such a way?  It wasn’t appropriate.

He said he was saddened to hear of my trust issues because he can relate due to his own.  Not that he was saddened to hear it because he clearly contributed to them.  But because he can relate.  Well, awesome.  Thanks.

He gave me a better email to use and invited me to text, but I no longer have his number and I don’t yet know what to say to him.  I feel a volcano of emotion about to erupt, that needs purging.  I want him to know what the last two years have been like for me with his odd internet stalking of my AFF profile, seeing his goddamned car every goddamned day, and the anxiety of a run-in I carry with me despite my best efforts to exorcise it.  (It’s possible had I never run into him and his girlfriend at the gym that the threat would have ever crossed my mind, but it did and so it does.)

Some will think this is a huge mistake; I’ve already gotten closure, moved on.  It’s been two years! they’ll say.  Others will think there never was closure and this is a good path forward; Show him, girl!  Tell him!

But what do I need from this?  I didn’t write the first note expecting anything in return, but what I got was friendly in tone and communal.  It wasn’t bad.  But there was a sensitivity missing, a subtle nod to what that must have taken for me to finally write.  His response wasn’t somber enough.  This man broke me and he replied to me like a long-lost close office mate whose 9-5 life he once shared.

I’m still contemplating all of this.  What I want to do is not at all clear.  That stupid 150 word email has begun to peel a long-suffering scab atop a festering wound and I feel like a stranger in a strange land.  I only know how to be controlled and at a protective distance.  How do I do this whole This is the truth deal?

I hope there are still some who read me; any words of wisdom are more than welcome.  I need help.  I am at a complete loss.  But maybe this will be the end of it?

 

e[lust] 94

Exposing 40 Elust 94
Photo courtesy of Exposing 40

Welcome to Elust 94

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #95 Start with the rules, come back June 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Always Coming Second

Balance

THREESOME – the card game

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

The #500words Project ~ 2

#Pussy Pride

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

No Eligible Posts

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Erotic Fiction

Forgiven
Finally A Prostitute
On Display
World Traveller
Red
Ms. Mona’s Online Dating School for Dudes

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

BDSM is Not My Source for Life.
Pure and Simple
Discussing Consent & Scene Negotiation

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

You can
All for one, or one for all…
He haunts me.

Erotic Non-Fiction

Oh no, I’m not.
the shoot begins
Raylene’s pain does not matter

Poetry

-05.05.17_00:21-
White Tee Shirt

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Orgasm Challenge

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

A Kink Couple Fantasize About the Waitstaff

 

 

Elust 88

Friday, May 19th, is Boobday!

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Another beautiful Spring week has flown by.  I haven’t written much just because I haven’t felt like it, but not in that I can’t bear it kind of way that I have felt recently.  Mostly I just didn’t want to and that feels ok.

I also haven’t taken any pics of myself in quite a while and have been taking a break from Snap and IG.  It feels glorious.

This week Ms. Over 50 sends us all a special message, so be sure to read below.  She is the exact reason I host this meme rain or shine.  Love you all!

Enjoy the tits, friends.

xx

Hy

Full Boobday Guidelines here.

One of two ways to participate:

1) either submit a pic to me via email (hyacinth.jones@hotmail.com) OR

2) submit a link below to your own blog post for Boobday.

Also, just as a reminder:

If you send me a pic, be sure to tell me if you want to be anonymous or not and what your pseudonym is (if you have one or I gave you one)

Tell me why you chose the photo you sent

And don’t forget to comment on everyone’s posts! This is all about spreading the love!

My tits:

I took this pic on my couch last night, watermarked it for Boobday and then promptly passed out. Very sexy.

NOT my tits:

Sandy is a veritable rose.

Pretty in pink.

::

Kate gets saucy and cleavage-licious.

This is a photo of me braless and ready to go out on a date. Hubby will wait patiently at home hoping he will get to enjoy me later!

::

Ms. Over 50 shares her beautiful curves.  And you’re very welcome.  You are everything.  xx
Today’s submission drops the artistic presentation and shows a bit of realism.  In the past, realism meant rejection, feelings of ugliness and an overwhelming desire to keep my body hidden. Today is our 5th anniversary and this less than ideal photo is a thank you to the man I wish I had found 30 years ago.  He accepts me the way I am and has helped me move slowly from disappointment to acceptance and finally to appreciation of my own body. He introduced me to this site and repeatedly ask me to post until I was willing. I still am amazed that I have come this far.  Most of my posts have been of one breast because I am quite lopsided.  Even when showing two I have plenty of tricks. Lifting one shoulder works wonders which I am doing in this pic but remember I said a “bit of realism” not completely natural.  Anyway, my purpose for being verbose today is twofold: I want to encourage Hyacinth by saying that her sharing has encouraged me and helped me become more comfortable with my own body and to say thank you to my wonderful husband who accepts me the way I am (trust me, I can’t go around with one shoulder high in the air to balance the one drooping boob).
Happy Boobday to all!


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