I felt great about my birthday outfit till I saw pictures of myself sitting down in it. The words 'beached' and 'whale' came to mind, as well as "OHMYGOD, TIME FOR SLIMFAST AND THE GYM!!"
Working on the second, not desperate enough for the first yet - as I've said here before, I love my cleavage, and with Slimfast, it tends to go first. No go. I own way too many tops designed to show it off.
Jack and I were online chatting today, and as ever, he left me feeling happy and protected (despite being my junior by a good number of years). All IM typos are left in:
Jack says (19:21):
once im free again it would be nice to go out with some of you friends from your bday again
Irim says (19:21):
that would be lovely
Jack says (19:22):
cooolo
Irim says (19:22):
once I've lost at least a stone and look decent in photos
Irim says (19:22):
:D
Jack says (19:25):
dude, u looked fucking hot on your bday!
Irim says (19:26):
Awww, you're so sweet!
Jack says (19:26):
serious
Jack says (19:26):
u must have lost a load of weight
Jack says (19:26):
i wasnt just being charming!
Jack says (19:26):
:)
Irim says (19:26):
Actually, I usually wear clothes way too big
Jack says (19:26):
aha
Irim says (19:26):
I was wearing clothes that fit
Jack says (19:27):
one of the "gist is better then the wrappings" eh
Jack says (19:27):
nice
Jack says (19:27):
stealth sexy
Jack says (19:27):
:)
Irim says (19:27):
anything that hangs from my tits means I have a [] inch waist,
Jack says (19:27):
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH
Irim says (19:27):
I love that phrase
Jack says (19:27):
thats fucking funny
Irim says (19:27):
I just think if a guy doesn't look past the surface, it's not worth it
Jack says (19:27):
agreeed
Irim says (19:27):
'stealth sexy'
Irim says (19:28):
might have to blog it.
Jack says (19:28):
do it
Jack says (19:28):
i want ot be quoted
Irim says (19:28):
all right, darling. Do you want to be named?
Jack says (19:28):
fuk yeh
And so, my dear, consider yourself named.
"Stealth sexy". Just like that, he took my wearing big clothes - anchored in the sexual abuse, my mother's complete weirdness about my body in all sorts of ways, and my resulting ambivalence about my body - and turned it into gift wrapping.
Lo, verily, I was healed.
Showing posts with label sexuality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sexuality. Show all posts
Thursday, 10 July 2008
Tuesday, 19 June 2007
A sensualist comes out of the closet...
It may surprise my readers to know that I am a sensualist - in the broadest sense of the word (i.e., I'd use 'sensuousist' if it existed). I'm pretty well known for being sensible, wearing t-shirts and trousers, making pragmatic purchases - quick, utilitarian meals; towels that do the job; anything I need, rather than things I might want. I've only ever had one manicure, and I get my hair done whenever I remember - about once a year, to my stylist's deep chagrin. I usually wait for birthdays and Christmas to get those little luxuries from Lush or for Rachel to drag me out to a Monsoon sale and force me to buy something pretty, fitted or in silk.
Trinny and Susannah would LOVE to get their hands on my wardrobe.
Nor am I one for having a man in my life just because, which means I've spent most of my adult life as a singleton - so much so that one of my friends once admitted to considering me 'asexual' (when I reported the conversation to a male friend, he bent over double and laughed hysterically for about five minutes, much to my gratification). I love sex and the feeling of being coupled up (perceptively noted by a university friend who said, "You're one of those people made to go through life two by two"), but it's only worth it if he's someone I can talk to into the night about my hopes, dreams and fears and if I fancy the pants off him - what Cosmo rightfully calls a 'love and lust partner'. Love is meant to be lush, ever growing and, to borrow a phrase from Gill Edwards, "wild and sacred". If it's not that, I'll pass - I quite like my own company and that of my good friends, and I'm not here to trap or tame myself or anyone else.
So, at a quick glance, I can seem very practical, analytical, even spiritual to some - someone who would happily bypass her senses and live out of body, if she could.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
That's why I was delighted to discover this blog, which made me feel like I'd met a kindred spirit. Having grown up in a Muslim family, then converting to Catholicism, my sensuality was first underdeveloped and then placed firmly under wraps in order to survive, then to fit a particular mould. No more. We're done here.
Perhaps I was ready anyway, but reading Sensuous Wife's blog felt like having permission to let my sensualist out of the closet permanently: Confiteor Deo, that I too love burying my hands in soft towels at the store and the feel of coconut oil on my skin. And yes, I've been known to wear pretty lingerie under my mundane t-shirts. In addition, I love burying my face in a bunch of red roses and inhaling; savouring the taste of a murgh korai; the feel of my hair as it tumbles down my back when I let it down; the sound of Handel drifting through the church; looking at a Vermeer.
But above all, I love the feel of a lover pulling my naked body towards his as he drifts off to sleep.
Thank you, Sensuous wife, and to answer your question "Sex as worship?"
Abso - bloody - lutely.
Trinny and Susannah would LOVE to get their hands on my wardrobe.
Nor am I one for having a man in my life just because, which means I've spent most of my adult life as a singleton - so much so that one of my friends once admitted to considering me 'asexual' (when I reported the conversation to a male friend, he bent over double and laughed hysterically for about five minutes, much to my gratification). I love sex and the feeling of being coupled up (perceptively noted by a university friend who said, "You're one of those people made to go through life two by two"), but it's only worth it if he's someone I can talk to into the night about my hopes, dreams and fears and if I fancy the pants off him - what Cosmo rightfully calls a 'love and lust partner'. Love is meant to be lush, ever growing and, to borrow a phrase from Gill Edwards, "wild and sacred". If it's not that, I'll pass - I quite like my own company and that of my good friends, and I'm not here to trap or tame myself or anyone else.
So, at a quick glance, I can seem very practical, analytical, even spiritual to some - someone who would happily bypass her senses and live out of body, if she could.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
That's why I was delighted to discover this blog, which made me feel like I'd met a kindred spirit. Having grown up in a Muslim family, then converting to Catholicism, my sensuality was first underdeveloped and then placed firmly under wraps in order to survive, then to fit a particular mould. No more. We're done here.
Perhaps I was ready anyway, but reading Sensuous Wife's blog felt like having permission to let my sensualist out of the closet permanently: Confiteor Deo, that I too love burying my hands in soft towels at the store and the feel of coconut oil on my skin. And yes, I've been known to wear pretty lingerie under my mundane t-shirts. In addition, I love burying my face in a bunch of red roses and inhaling; savouring the taste of a murgh korai; the feel of my hair as it tumbles down my back when I let it down; the sound of Handel drifting through the church; looking at a Vermeer.
But above all, I love the feel of a lover pulling my naked body towards his as he drifts off to sleep.
Thank you, Sensuous wife, and to answer your question "Sex as worship?"
Abso - bloody - lutely.
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