I lay atop dark, tangled sheets soft and exhausted, slightly glowing. He crawled over me all bronzed skin and bright smile, hair and eyes as black as coal. In tongue-curled English he snarled at me, “I told you: no mascara.”
He reached out with both big hands and cupped my face like a basketball. His thumbs gently swiped from beside my nose to my cheekbones and with them all of my tear-soaked mascara.
H.H. and Lola sent me her pics for today on a year old email thread this morning. On that thread was the link to the article I wrote about in my February, 24th, 2016 Boobday post. I reread it in the early light of dawn and I felt all the same anger and disbelief exactly as I did a year ago. My post response was filled with why I do this meme and why I show my body. I’ve written about it at length for years now and even have it in a stand-alone sidebar link.
To show your body is an act of power.
We know this in its negative form because we criminalize the act itself when the viewer hasn’t consented to see. It is an assault, a visual one. It’s a move of power over an unsuspecting victim’s visual space. Flashers* know it – they get high off the rush – and everyone else knows it, too: to bare your body to someone is an act of power. To forcibly reveal someone else’s body is also an act of power. Exposure, whether done to you or by you is not a neutral activity.
Remember back to the first time your lover laid eyes on your body in all its nakedness. Hopefully, you felt their wonderment at your shape, glow, and glitter. Their pleasure. That’s power. Think of the time you first laid eyes on your lover exposed and vulnerable, yet trusting you with their personal canvas. How lucky did you feel that they chose to share with you? That’s power, too.
When a woman chooses to remove her clothing and allow others to see it is a statement of jurisdiction. She controls the image, the time, the place, all the hows and whys and whens. Her reasons for doing so are her own and the effects are based on cultural filters and beliefs, but so long as hers align that’s all that matters. Whether we agree with her or not is immaterial. She can do whatever she wants with her body.
Which brings me back to that blog post. I’m paraphrasing here from what she wrote — and the 96 comments under it — but the gist is those bloggers who “rely” on showing off their tits instead of working to be better/excellent/outstanding writers are ruining it for everyone else, that we’re turning back the clock on feminism and female empowerment (and also being paid to write).
She and all the others who think we are sad, pathetic, rabbit-hole-falling attention whores are saying there are only very narrow definitions of what it means to be a feminist, a writer, a self-respecting woman, only one way to be nude (that’d be with someone very special, natch), that there are narrow guidelines to what a healthy relationship with self and others look like, and that is complete and utter bullshit.
My writing is outstanding all by itself**. I don’t need to post a single picture. Not one. I know that and am proud of it, but do it anyway because I love it. It’s odd to me that there was this idea that just because writers can’t get paid for what they do that somehow the hot topic became about how those of us who show our tits are the bane of feminism. (I’m not making this up.***) And to the rest, well, every person gets to define what is healthy for them. Or the DSM-V. But that’s a discussion for another day and not something others get to determine.
Lastly, to all the bloggers and writers who don’t show their tits and who have decided that those who do devalue their writing and womanhood:
The validation you receive by blaming immodest women for the disenfranchising of women is fleeting and as flimsy as the 0s and 1s you wrote it on. It comes from a place deep inside of you, a place thoroughly indoctrinated, since you were a little girl or boy, into believing that a woman may expose her body only in certain situations under the auspice of certain kinds of approval. That nothing is of higher value in a woman than her modesty. That is not freedom. That is disempowerment.
And you have been brainwashed.
So, here’s to yet another incredible (and late!) Boobday and all my warrior sisters who have taken control over their bodies and decided for themselves what is right for them. Here’s to the tatas!!
*I am in no way saying an exhibitionist sexual assault is real power, though the flasher himself (or herself) will feel a rush of power or feel powerful for sexual pleasure. Our laws substantiate this by viewing it as an assault, a powerful act. Women (and men) who reveal themselves in their own spaces where viewers are consenting to see are not in a class with those acting upon a disordered sexual compass.
**I sincerely hope.
***It appears she’s not well at the moment and has either stopped blogging or is on hiatus since November, 2016. Linking to her now would be weird, especially since she may not currently be at the helm. If you’re dying to read what she wrote, you might have to turn to Google.
It scares me, this lack of enthusiasm for the blog.
I just wrote about making new goals and striving to achieve them and instead of inciting me to action I feel pushed away.
I think I’ve indentified part of it: it’s less fun for me, more stressful. My standards for what I put here are extremely high and it takes me up to 5 hours to write a thoughtful, moving piece when it used to take me an hour or two.
I could blame life changes for that, but I don’t think that’s it; I’m more easily distracted and I don’t feel as welcome in my own space.
I’ve gone and fucked this up somehow.
To combat this, I’ve decided that I will write more, not less. Lower my standards for a post and fucking play here again.
Play with my words, my body, you.
I used to post lots of nothing — lots — and it felt like a playground, like swinging high above the treetops, spinning faster than a top. I could do anything I wanted, have any voice, share my thoughts and ideas without worry that there was a hole in my argument.
I want that back.
So, to kick that off here’s a random nude pic of me. Raw, real, and [barely] exposed. Just like I used to be, just like I want to be: playful and seductive, playful and here.
Rori, over at Between My Sheets (she’s in my blogroll) does a yearly Top 100 Sex Bloggers List. It’s reader nominated and somehow my old, dead blog is on last year’s list. It’d be great if I could get my new and much improved one on there also.
Last year, I found a number of amazing new blogs once I realized I was on the list. I was honored and humbled beyond belief. I couldn’t believe it.
More than anything, her list is a wonderful conglomeration of excellent sex writing and new-found blogs. The internet is too vast to find everyone on your own. Her list boils it down and makes a concentrated effort to bring the best to us. However, so far I don’t see any of my amazing writer-friends nominated over there yet! We need to get our buns in gear and nominate like crazy!!
The deets are straight forward: bloggers can’t nominate themselves; voters need to be clear on the urls; blog content needs to be sex-related; the blog needs to be public and at least a year old or as old as Jan 2012; and nominations end August 31st.
If I didn’t nominate you, it’s not because I don’t think you’re fantastic. Honestly, some blogs slipped my mind and others I couldn’t figure out if they were eligible or not, and I wanted to keep my list as close to 5 as possible. So I’m extremely sorry if I hurt anyone’s feelings. There will be plenty of love to pass around later, I promise! Here’s who I nominated:
AM from Accidental Masturbator – he gives such a different side of everything sexual and from a male perspective to boot. His British clip is unmistakable, his pervy mind admirable.
Sweet Bi from Only Partly Erotic – my brother in fucking arms, Bi brings us into his semi-tormented world of sex, lust and infidelity with honest rancor and a subtle, yet sexy, hand. He is often on my mind.
Fatal of You Linger Like a Haunting Refrain – she once described herself as a “tiny tornado”, I think, and it’s never left my mind. She struggles with balance and calm while fucking her brains out.
The ethereal Alice of The Story of Alice – she writes with flowing prose of sex and love and crushes and gender-bending friends who frolic in the dark streets of a large city. Her kisses are measured, yet passionate, her words refined.
Jayne of Diary Incarnate – she is struggling through divorce and the cloud of pain and doubt that consumes her, yet her passions and desires burn against the oppression of her life. Her words sear.
The ubiquitous LSAM of Love Sex and Marriage – LSAM writes with a clarity of voice not commonly found. She’s bright, sexy, and articulate, and her posts are filled with equal amounts of mirth and information.
And lastly, sweet Dawn, of Pivoine68 – her gut-wrenching writings about self-doubt, sex, and betrayal grip my heart from across the pond. I want to cradle her head in my lap and dribble white wine down her throat.
I don’t know what the usual attrition rate is for followers of sex blogs, but I’m shocked as fuck that I have even 10, let alone almost 100! I’ve been writing since mid-December and I can’t seem to pass my number of followers with my number of posts. It’s a humbling, lovely thought that for every post I write there is at least one new reader who wants more of me.
This space has become integral to my health. I need you all and I revel in the outpouring of support and love, critical eyes and pointed observations. If I’m not sharing, then I’m living in a vacuum of unadulterated lust and id. I need paddles to keep me straight, keep me honest, and keep me growing. You all are my paddles.
I’m ugly here, yet you all keep coming back. It’s not fun admitting to my weaknesses or exposing myself, but it’s a muscle I want developed. I want to be strong and own my urges, dive into them and shed all ignorance. My mind and body may wreak havoc on me, but at least it will be well documented and I’ll know it was real. Without this I don’t feel whole. I need to share much as I need to be seen. Thank you for seeing me.
So, to celebrate my first centennial, I will do two things to express my gratitude:
Post a picture of me that you all want to see most (leave your suggestion in the comments – no pussy shots, sorry).
Answer any questions you have about me that don’t belie my anonymity (i.e., name, city, occupation, etc.).
Thank you again. For all of it. I love you all.
Always your faithful & dissolute blogger,
[Update 5/7: I’ve gained a follower since posting this! Eight more to go!!]
[Update 5/8: 93!]
[Update 5/12: I’m at 100! I have altjp to thank for that. I’ll get on my promised reward soon. Probably in the next couple of days. Thanks everyone!! Woofuckinghoo!]
Shaft, rod, bone/boner, erection, meat, manhood, tumescence (that’s one of my faves), pole, piston, spear, baby-arm, turgid flesh, bulge, ridge, lump…. I just thought of a post! xx
Personally, I love using the technical terms for things in a filthy way. The juxtaposition of formal and passionate is a favorite theme of mine that you may or may not have noticed in my writings.
The words I’ve compiled below are ones I’d actually use to write erotica. Of course there are so many other slang words for all our bits, but I’m not really interested in “axe-wound” or “meat popsicle,” — though what a challenge that would be to make sexy!
What are some of your favorite words for our sexy bits? I’d love to add to my repertoire of go-to words. Also, this was much harder than I at first anticipated! [Updated with some of your suggestions. I can’t believe I left some of those out!]