*Super Long Post Alert*
I was watching a show this morning about women and the way they see their bodies. It made me think about the way I think about my body, and compare notes with you guys. Coz, you know; that’s what I do.
I should probably say that I probably suffer with a very bad body image because the ways that I have been treated over the years by the various men in my life. I will always remember the time I slept with The Firefighter (Number 4) and he told me that even though I had put on a bit of weight, I was still incredibly sexy. Those comments stand out to me, and it’s a pattern that has continued with most of them men in my life. The Big Love, for example, made constant comments about my weight gain at the end of our relationship, went through a phase of sleeping with skinnier sluts, and then settled with a girl that was bigger than I ever got. With The Hubby, I was bigger when I got married and then lost weight during the course of our relationship, occasionally piling it back on again and then losing it once more.
The heaviest I ever got was 220 pounds with The Big Love. I currently seesaw in between 165 and 175, depending on the weather, how much pot I’ve smoked and how I’m feeling. Oh and who I’m dating. I want to be 145 pounds. I guess I’m not really that far off.
When I look in the mirror, I am not happy about the way I look and I’m constantly looking for the next weight loss craze that I’ll actually enjoy doing. I love being in the gym, it’s just getting there that’s the problem. I also hate going by myself and the people I keep asking don’t ever seem to want to go with me.
I have a tummy that I hate. I have stretch marks on the tops of my legs, around the edges of my breasts, the tops of my arms, and around the edges of my tummy. Most of them have settled down to a very faint silver now and most people probably can’t even see them. I know they are there though so they make me feel very conscious.
I do love the size of my breasts (36E) but I wish they were a big perkier. My arms need definite toning. I have the double chin that seems to be a strong family trait. I have love handles. My top half is a UK size 16 and I can get my bottom half in a UK size 12/14 depending on where I’m shopping and what I’m trying to buy. I have a very hourglass figure with a small waist, hips, a ghetto booty and large breasts. I love the way my body is shaped; I just wish it were a bit thinner in certain areas.
Most guys date me for my eyes or my breasts. OB is very much an ass man which is taking some getting used to. I have started to love my ass – I don’t really have cellulite and my legs are super toned from all the walking I do and heels I love to wear. In a dress in the summer, I wore a pair of nude wedges and my legs looked fucking awesome. I must try and find a photo of me that doesn’t show too much of me to show you. I love my legs.
I don’t like the tops of my legs because when I used to self harm, that’s where I used to do it the most. The scars have faded to a faint pink color now, but there are some pretty deep scars thrown in there that are very clear to see because they are so wide. There were a few times that I did it where the skin literally ripped apart, almost like a sausage bursting, and those are the ones that have left the worst scars.
When I look in the mirror, there are three versions of me that could stare back. There is the one that is currently sat in front of you writing this now – I have spent the entire day in my pajamas because it’s cold outside and I didn’t have work. My hair is scraped back from my face in a high ponytail and my ginger hair is fading, with patches that could really do with a re-dye touch up. I have no makeup on and my eyes are red from the joint I have smoked, and I have dark circles under my eyes because I haven’t been sleeping well recently.
The other side to me is the version that OB gets to see when he spends the night at my place – I have scruffy bed hair that only looks sexy the morning after a really heavy night of sex. I have that sexy morning-after smudge of makeup under my eyes and swollen red lips from a night of hardcore making out.
Then there is the version of me that I let the world see. I am always made up. I never leave the house without makeup. It takes me forever to get ready in the morning, which is probably why I’m late for work almost every day. I have to draw my eyebrows on because I get them threaded and they have taken too much hair off. I also need to go a shade darker as I’m natural blonde and my hair is currently bright orange. I’m considering having semi-permanent eyebrow tattoos done. I have to have eye liner on – black. I have this kinda 50’s housewife/pin up thing going on. I’m a big fan of flawless skin, bright red lips and proper kitten eyeliner. I have really long eyelashes naturally too, so I always wear lots of mascara to make them look awesome. A lot of people comment on my eyelashes. It’s one of my favorite things about myself. However, I have a habit of pulling my eyelashes out from time to time so sometimes I have tiny wee bald spots. I hate that.
Those are the three versions of me that I have. Sometimes I hate the perfectly made up version of me because it takes up so much effort. I don’t know when I started to care so much about what people through of me, to the point where I refuse to leave my house without makeup on.
I don’t like the image that comes back at me when I look in the mirror. I wish I was slimmer. I’d like to have a Jessica Rabbit style figure, like Kelly Brook, and I probably would have if I were a bit slimmer. I’m also fairly short – only 5 ft 3 or 4 so that doesn’t help matters. I hate photos of me and Lil Sis because she’s 6 ft tall and is a quarter of the size of me. She makes me look like a freaking whale.
People keep saying to me that they felt more comfortable with their figure the older they get, and I’m hoping the same thing will happen to me. Being with OB is helping – he makes me feel super sexy and he’s always complimenting me. I’ve always quite liked my ass, but now because he keeps telling me how fucking amazing it is, I have a real love for my ass and my legs. Sometimes I wish the tops of my thighs were slimmer; I’m scared they look like fat girl thighs when I sit down, especially in skinny jeans.
I am starting to notice changes now when I work out. I started doing this crazy workout home-video thing when I came home and after a while I really started to notice that my arms were becoming more toned and my tummy was getting flatter. After a while though, I started to struggle finding the time to fit the half an hour work out in my day, especially after a long day at work, and I guess I just need to get back into the swing of things. I’m hoping the coming of spring, if it ever gets here, will motivate me some more. I want to start walking home from work as well as to work. I haven’t really been walking to work recently because it’s been so cold and snowy. We’ve had some really shitty weather and it’s hard to get motivation for anything when the weather is like that.
In other aspects of my life, I realize that today was the wedding anniversary of The Lapdog’s brother and his new wife. They have been married a year today. He took me to that wedding reception and it was one of the most amazing nights of my life. He booked us a hotel and I wore a beautiful dark blue dress with the nude wedge sandals I spoke about earlier. I spent hours on hair and makeup, tanning myself and basically spending more time than was necessary to look perfect just for him. He was so proud to be taking me to that wedding reception and I really wanted to make an effort for him.
He picked me up and took me to the hotel so that I could drop off my bags. While we were there, he told me I had to hurry up so I dropped to my knees and gave him head right there in the hotel toilet. We then went on ahead to the wedding reception in a local hotel. The night was brilliant and he seemed so proud to be showing me off. Towards the end of the night, his Sister, one of the bridesmaids, suggested we go to a nearby club in our wedding get-up, which we decided to do. On the way there, The Lapdog took me to one side, kissed me and pulled a tiny little baggy out of his wallet containing what looked like white rocks. It turned out to be MDMA and that was the first night I ever tried that drug. It turned into “our thing” which probably isn’t a good thing.
I freaked out for a few minutes before we actually got into the club, and he spent the time to calm me down. We had the most amazing night, kissing and dancing and generally bouncing around, enjoying the pretty colors and the love that you feel for someone when you are on that drug. It was the craziest night of my life and that was the night that Hot Right Now by Rita Ora became our song.
At the end of the night, I don’t know how we got there, but we ended up back in our hotel room. The sex we had that night will stay in my head forever. I’m pretty sure we did anal. I’m pretty sure I squirted all over the place multiple times. He came more times that night than I’ve seen a guy come ever. And there were whole chunks of the night that he couldn’t get hard. He had his head between my legs for absolutely hours and hours, at various times throughout the night. Everything felt so good. I was so in love with him. That’s what the drug does – it makes you love the people you are with. I will never, ever forget that night – it was my first night on MDMA and one of the most mental nights of my life. I will always look back on that song and that night with a huge smile on my face. I really want to text him tonight, but I know I can’t. I shouldn’t. He’s been in my head a lot recently, and we’ve communicated a couple of times. I know he’s happy with his girlfriend though, and I certainly don’t want to mess things up with OB.
We had a few more nights on MDMA after that night. There was the night before his new sister-in-law had the baby. We went up the hospital the morning after, still totally fucked from the night before. I’m not even sure how he managed to drive. Then there was the twin’s birthday party. That night was fucked up. How we got away with being that high and his parents not realizing, I have no idea. I wore this black dress and the hottest red and black, lace shoes. He loved those shoes. We kept them on later on that night when we sneaked away upstairs and had a cheeky fuck. First, he fucked me as I bent over the bed, then he fucked me with my shoes in his shoulders, then it finished with me sucking him off and him climaxing into my mouth as I jerked myself off on my knees. That night was a powerful one between us.
Every single one of those nights followed the same pattern – we wanted to dance, laugh and drink until we couldn’t do it anymore. Then we had this period of fucking amazing passionate sex that was both brave and stupid at the same time, then we had a chat about us and the things we were feeling, crying usually as we did so, followed by an ending of sex before falling asleep in the 6 in the morning and being awoken by his parents at 9.
I remember one night he actually ate MDMA rocks from my vagina. That can’t have been good for it but the way it made my clit tingle as he did so was out of this world. Fuck we had some crazy sex.
That was a long time ago now though; a whole year ago. It’s a shame really because if I had just sucked it up and dated him, we could still be having that crazy sex right now. For now, however, it is T-Minus 6 sleeps until I see OB again. And then we can have crazy sex. I have ordered a new outfit for him and I can’t wait to wear it for him. Let Operation Blowjob-Come-in-Mouth commence…….