breakfast conversation...

so I get asked this question:

“when you tell a girl you like her shirt does she automatically assume you’re checking out her tits?”

or something to that effect.

I reply with a simple no because there are ways to tell when someone’s checking out your tits without them having to say a word. I don’t explain that. I just say no.

“so why do they always cover up (a gesture is made) when you say it?”

because most people are self-conscious and when attention is put on them they recoil. I do the same thing: I’m not assuming someone is checking me out but I am suddenly aware that they might start.

or something to that effect. either way it got me thinking, in fact I have been thinking about it all day. not about whether or not I think someone’s checking me out when they compliment my shirt but about that reaction. and thinking about that reaction got me thinking about my own body and how I feel about it.

things are changing.

two years and well before that I hated it. I wanted no part of it. I let it do as it pleased and we didn’t communicate. sure we got off now and again and we got tattooed a bit and we felt all that but we weren’t communicating. I wasn’t aware of it’s importance.

so like I said, things are changing.

major work is being done. I think it comes from a place of sadness but I’m starting to discover that I need to give my body a little more credit.

so in may I pierced my nipples. now I am getting seriously tattooed. it’s not about vanity or sex or any of those things (although, I don’t have much to complain about with the nipple piercings…). it’s about making that connection with my body and how it feels things and what makes it feel good. so we chat more now.

and I am starting to love her. to love her imperfection. to love the additions to her that have made her beautiful. I love her skin, her rough parts, her soft parts, her imperfections.

but see-her. not I love MY imperfection; I love HER imperfection.

but here’s the good news. I’m starting to get it. I’m finding places and parts of my body that I love. I LOVE the spot just inside my ribcage where my loneliness sleeps and lives. I love my legs, especially the back part of my thighs. I love my arm. I love how I can close my eyes and feel no difference between the tattooed one and the untattooed one; it’s a part of me now and I LOVE that. I love the line that I can trace from my hipbone to my inner thigh. and as ridiculous and bullshitty-vagina-monologue-faux-feminism-crappy as it sounds, I LOVE my vag. seriously, orgasms rule. the intimacy of penetration rules (not always afterwards but in the moment it seriously rules). the feeling of someone’s entire weight. jesus…

…off topic. that’ll be for another post entitled, ‘holy crap it’s been forever since I felt that…call me!’ the whole thing will scream ‘quiet desperation’! anyways…

so yeah, I’m learning.

this is all pretty cliché, I know. but I in a place right now where I am constantly thinking; working out my feelings for things and people and myself. the world is doing new things to me. i’m letting it. and it all connects to my body. the more I change it the more the world changes it’s reaction to me and consequently my relationship with it. or something…the point I am currently a terrible narcissist who thinks of no one save for herself and her self esteem issues…ha ha! no, the point is I just needed to get it out. so yeah…

/cliché.

and what does this all have to do with complimenting t-shirts and checking out tits? I do that. I pull my shirt away from my body. it’s instinctual. it’s about how we relate personally to our bodies. maybe the topless pictures will change all that…*wink*