I am not a good mother. I love my children more than my own life yet I do not have the skills I need to bring them up free of the sadness, the self doubt and the depression that has plagued me since my own childhood.
Bringing a child into this world is, in of itself, a terrifying prospect. Motherhood the first time around for me was a surprise; never an accident. A vision of beauty, love, purity and complete humanity as wonderful as my eldest son could never be construed as an accident. Our pregnancy with him, the subsequent empowering birth experience I had and our years together have been joyous and wonderful, so many other adjectives I could insert here, all to add to the hyperbolic message that indeed, this child is phenomenal. Maybe it was because I was surprised, maybe it was my age, I was 23 when I got pregnant with him, maybe it was fear, fear of failure, but now I fear I have failed my eldest child.
To fear you have let down a child is so all encompassing, consuming and debilitating in its enormity. My Mum, I will suggest, felt that she let me down as well, for whatever her reasons may have been, and her answer was to push me, to drive me to succeed, to inspire me to be independent and free; she spent my entire life telling me not to get married or have children until I was in my mid 30s………… so when at 23, in my final semester of uni, I found myself pregnant, the waves of failure I felt at letting down my mum washed over me, and I think this was where it began.
Unfortunately my mum failed in her mission. Rather than making me strive for more, I have spent my entire life never feeling good enough, worthy enough, worth liking, worth loving, I always felt that I needed to do more in order for someone to like me, and that the minute I slipped up, I could be cast aside, for all that matters is making sure your behaviour is making those around you happy.
I suffer from the hideously debilitating condition of constantly trying to please people. It is obviously a combination of a number of factors, if we had infinite time and a few books on Freud and Jungian psychology I could regale you with endless tales of parental relationship markers that point to my mental health demise… and what has come out of this? Throw in another psychologist, albeit one whose ideas can be at times considered a tad out there, and I will use myself, my behaviours in relationships and my interactions with those I feel vulnerable with to illustrate clearly the theory of Riechian Armouring!
So why, when I can see my obvious flaws, when I can see what mistakes my parents made, why am I still floundering with my child? Why do I feel I am letting him down? Because in him I see me.
Now his younger brother, possibley two more polarised siblings you would never meet. He is an incredible light that wanders this planet. His was a planned coming into the family, and his arrival date, Sept 11th 2001, should have been the marker as to the personality and path of destruction (but in a good way!) he leaves in his wake! Loud, breathtakingly intelligent, rough and tumble, but still full of love, this child leaves me in no doubt as to his ability to cope with what the world throws his way. Even at a young age he has shown me his resilience, his determination, his tenacity. He could not be LESS like me if he tried. All the things I see in myself as weak, he does not possess. All the attributes I would want as a person, I see in him; to envy a child of five for their confidence and independence is a surreal experience.
His elder brother however, is me. He is too willing to trust, too easily hurt, quick to dwell on the negative, there is no ‘water off a ducks back’, like me, he mires in the sadness, finds it hard to move forward, feels he needs to say sorry for things of no consequence. In him I see me and I don’t know what to do.
I do not know how to make it a better path for him. I do not have the skills as a parent to pull him through this for I was not given them myself. I am trying to do a better job than my parents did but I constantly fear it will not be good enough.
It will be my greatest failure, the ultimate tragedy, if one of my children grows up to feel the way about their place in this world as I do. They deserve more than that, they deserve to be seen for the incredible adults the two of them shall become, and I want my eldest son to grow and be the best he can be, not wallow and flounder and never succeed like I have so spectacularly managed to do.
It breaks my heart to think of him dealing with the negative emotions I have dealt with since I was a child, first diagnosed with depression at 8.
When I speak to him, and I hear my mothers words coming out, I shudder, I berate myself, a punish myself. He deserves more, he deserves a Mum who is able to give him the tools he needs to be a happy human being, and I fear I cannot do this.
Please do not get me wrong, I love my children more than my own life, in my darkest hours it is the thought of them that makes me keep going, I know nothing but love for them, but sometimes you need to acknowledge that love is not always enough, and in my case, no matter how much I love them, I fear I shall end up letting them down
Friday, June 8, 2007
Sunday, May 27, 2007
can women f*ck like men?
"Look, maybe its best if I just go home"
I was not setting out to test this question, I just suddenly found myself behaving in a manner so shoking that I was forced to look at myself and wonder, am I really becoming that cynical and unable to have any level of real intimacy with someone?
Now most of you who read this know I do not do the conventional relationship thing. I cannot, at this time in my life, consider monogamy as an option, and well unfortunately in this society that makes many consider me a whore; but is it not better to be single and empower yourself and do what you want sexually rather than lie to yourself, be in a relationship because it's the done thing and then screw around on your partner? That to me is much worse than choosing to sleep with different people.
Let me also clarify I DO NOT DO one night stands, random pick ups at Bars or Clubs, nope nope nope, not my thing. I offer forth that the most cogent explanation would be that I date, but a variety of people, there is no long term commitment and the relationships are sexual, but there are limits.....
"Look, maybe it's best if I just go home"
Now obviously I do unfortunately find myself getting attached at times, which is ALWAYS to my detriment (see previous blogs for first hand evidence as to the disasters that ensued) so now I endevour to remain strictly casual. Emotionally stunted? Maybe. Crippled by fear? Certainly. Willing to live a celibate life? Definately not. So why should I, just due to my gender, have only two choices, relationship or spinsterhood? The madonna/whore syndrome. I say I challenge that and choose to have a life where i get the best of both worlds.
Last night however, I think I crossed a line that made me not, in actuality, fuck like a man, but in fact just behave like an abhorrent prick, that if I heard of a guy doing this to one of my friends I would publically lambast him, name and shame and tell all my female friends to stay away from him.....
Let me first just detail a story, possibley to offer forth for you a greater understanding of my utter fear of intimacy and as a way to prepare you for how utterly horrid I was. Coming up to two years ago I attempted, more at the behest of friends who felt I should give it a go, something that, for want of a better word, could be defined as a relationship. he was lovely, we had heaps in common and we used to be able to talk and talk and talk and he embraced all of the fabulous neurosis that make up lil ole me. However after about 6 weeks, he turned up on my doorstep one day with an enormous grin on his face holding a toothbrush. My resultant enquiry as to the why of the situation elictted this resposnse from said gentlemen "Its so I can leave it here for when I stay over! Now I have my own toothbrush here!" to which I responded "We need to talk" and I broke it off.
"Look, maybe its best if I just go home"
So does that profer some kind of inkling into my mind set? I do not know if it is that I am just not in a place where I can consider a relationship, if I have not met the right person or am I just a person who gets bored easily? I cant have the same thing for breakfast every day......
"Look, maybe its best if I just go home"
So, what could have occured that has made me actually question whether or not I am crossing the line from a woman who enjoys sex on my own terms or whether I have crossed that line and become some female version of Glen Quagmire?
Last night I lovely guy I know, someone I met through a good friend at the beginning of the year, came over......... no I shall not give details of events, but I will detail that we have enjoyed each others company before, no I dont mean in that way either! We went to Slayer, we have hung out, we have alot in common, we get on well, he is someone that i would consider a friend, with or without the sex. Last night however he came over at my request for I was, as Beetlejuice so wonderfully put it, anxious.
"Look, maybe its best if I just go home"
My guard had gone up before he even arrived for when I was talking to him on the phone he asked if he should bring a bag over (I was working til 11pm so it was a late booty call) as he started work at 630am and he could leave from my place. After a somewhat pregnant pause I choked out something along the lines of an "OK" and prayed to god I wouldnt flip....... alas.
So he arrives, and he ended up waiting as I was late since I decided to stay for a staff drink after work, and it was cold and wet last night, so that adds to my bitch status on this one. Anyway, deed done, anxiety released..... and we went to watch some tv, and he tried to get snuggley with me on the couch, tried to start making out, and I actually said, to my utter horror, I could not even believe it as it came out of my mouth "But the Formula 1 is on and I want to watch it".........
Well at least I wasnt lying, I do indeed love Formula 1.....
"Look maybe it's best if I just go home"
So a short while later I drew attension to the fact that it was very late and that we should try to sleep..... he indicated that he would rather get down and dirty again, but my desire for a shag had been sated so I responded with the comment I was tired! OMG. He then said well then lets go to bed and this is when it happened. I turned to him and said I could not share my bed with someone, I hated not sleeping alone and he could have the bed and I would crash on my couch.... his response
"Look, maybe it's better if I just go home"
and he did.......
Now dont get me wrong, he was more than welcome to stay over, just not sleep in my bed ALL NIGHT!
But after thinking about my reaction to the situation, both last night and as I have detailed it now, I think I was probably on the hyper defensive because he had made an assumption that he could indeed bring his stuff and stay over. The contravenes all the rules and regulations of the "fuck buddy", it crosses into a realm that I frankly have no desire to visit......... and then it made me come to another realisation, I'm not THAT evil for there is someone who could stay over in my bed as long as they wished to. Someone that I would not break my "no relationship" rule for but someone who, none the less, has got to me a litle bit more than the rest and if it was possible (alas it is not) he could indeed crash in my bed whenever he so chose to (although our track record would contraindicate any sleep being accomplished).
That little thought made me realise one final thing in the scenario that had been played out in my lounge and bedroom, with one, I believe, misguided player who did not learn all of his lines correctly before becoming part of the ensemble cast that is my life....... I cannot always fuck like a man. I get lost some times, I become someone who craves and wants more than anything to be with someone, to hold them and be held, to talk, to fall asleep in one anothers arms and wake up there aswell. Other times I just want to get laid, and last night was one of those circumstances.
men do that all the time...... and I never said I would call him, I never lied to him and promised something more, I told him it was just sex, and yet he wanted to try to extend it just a bit more........ I finally understand why guys hate girls who think you fuck once and its a relationship......
I will put it out there now, I am not anti relationships, I would not refuse a relationship if I met the right guy, but I am not actively seeking to find that guy at this point in my life......
and right now, apart from my two beautiful baby boys, there is only one other person who is allowed to come into my space, my home, my bed and stay awhile...... and he knows who he is...
I was not setting out to test this question, I just suddenly found myself behaving in a manner so shoking that I was forced to look at myself and wonder, am I really becoming that cynical and unable to have any level of real intimacy with someone?
Now most of you who read this know I do not do the conventional relationship thing. I cannot, at this time in my life, consider monogamy as an option, and well unfortunately in this society that makes many consider me a whore; but is it not better to be single and empower yourself and do what you want sexually rather than lie to yourself, be in a relationship because it's the done thing and then screw around on your partner? That to me is much worse than choosing to sleep with different people.
Let me also clarify I DO NOT DO one night stands, random pick ups at Bars or Clubs, nope nope nope, not my thing. I offer forth that the most cogent explanation would be that I date, but a variety of people, there is no long term commitment and the relationships are sexual, but there are limits.....
"Look, maybe it's best if I just go home"
Now obviously I do unfortunately find myself getting attached at times, which is ALWAYS to my detriment (see previous blogs for first hand evidence as to the disasters that ensued) so now I endevour to remain strictly casual. Emotionally stunted? Maybe. Crippled by fear? Certainly. Willing to live a celibate life? Definately not. So why should I, just due to my gender, have only two choices, relationship or spinsterhood? The madonna/whore syndrome. I say I challenge that and choose to have a life where i get the best of both worlds.
Last night however, I think I crossed a line that made me not, in actuality, fuck like a man, but in fact just behave like an abhorrent prick, that if I heard of a guy doing this to one of my friends I would publically lambast him, name and shame and tell all my female friends to stay away from him.....
Let me first just detail a story, possibley to offer forth for you a greater understanding of my utter fear of intimacy and as a way to prepare you for how utterly horrid I was. Coming up to two years ago I attempted, more at the behest of friends who felt I should give it a go, something that, for want of a better word, could be defined as a relationship. he was lovely, we had heaps in common and we used to be able to talk and talk and talk and he embraced all of the fabulous neurosis that make up lil ole me. However after about 6 weeks, he turned up on my doorstep one day with an enormous grin on his face holding a toothbrush. My resultant enquiry as to the why of the situation elictted this resposnse from said gentlemen "Its so I can leave it here for when I stay over! Now I have my own toothbrush here!" to which I responded "We need to talk" and I broke it off.
"Look, maybe its best if I just go home"
So does that profer some kind of inkling into my mind set? I do not know if it is that I am just not in a place where I can consider a relationship, if I have not met the right person or am I just a person who gets bored easily? I cant have the same thing for breakfast every day......
"Look, maybe its best if I just go home"
So, what could have occured that has made me actually question whether or not I am crossing the line from a woman who enjoys sex on my own terms or whether I have crossed that line and become some female version of Glen Quagmire?
Last night I lovely guy I know, someone I met through a good friend at the beginning of the year, came over......... no I shall not give details of events, but I will detail that we have enjoyed each others company before, no I dont mean in that way either! We went to Slayer, we have hung out, we have alot in common, we get on well, he is someone that i would consider a friend, with or without the sex. Last night however he came over at my request for I was, as Beetlejuice so wonderfully put it, anxious.
"Look, maybe its best if I just go home"
My guard had gone up before he even arrived for when I was talking to him on the phone he asked if he should bring a bag over (I was working til 11pm so it was a late booty call) as he started work at 630am and he could leave from my place. After a somewhat pregnant pause I choked out something along the lines of an "OK" and prayed to god I wouldnt flip....... alas.
So he arrives, and he ended up waiting as I was late since I decided to stay for a staff drink after work, and it was cold and wet last night, so that adds to my bitch status on this one. Anyway, deed done, anxiety released..... and we went to watch some tv, and he tried to get snuggley with me on the couch, tried to start making out, and I actually said, to my utter horror, I could not even believe it as it came out of my mouth "But the Formula 1 is on and I want to watch it".........
Well at least I wasnt lying, I do indeed love Formula 1.....
"Look maybe it's best if I just go home"
So a short while later I drew attension to the fact that it was very late and that we should try to sleep..... he indicated that he would rather get down and dirty again, but my desire for a shag had been sated so I responded with the comment I was tired! OMG. He then said well then lets go to bed and this is when it happened. I turned to him and said I could not share my bed with someone, I hated not sleeping alone and he could have the bed and I would crash on my couch.... his response
"Look, maybe it's better if I just go home"
and he did.......
Now dont get me wrong, he was more than welcome to stay over, just not sleep in my bed ALL NIGHT!
But after thinking about my reaction to the situation, both last night and as I have detailed it now, I think I was probably on the hyper defensive because he had made an assumption that he could indeed bring his stuff and stay over. The contravenes all the rules and regulations of the "fuck buddy", it crosses into a realm that I frankly have no desire to visit......... and then it made me come to another realisation, I'm not THAT evil for there is someone who could stay over in my bed as long as they wished to. Someone that I would not break my "no relationship" rule for but someone who, none the less, has got to me a litle bit more than the rest and if it was possible (alas it is not) he could indeed crash in my bed whenever he so chose to (although our track record would contraindicate any sleep being accomplished).
That little thought made me realise one final thing in the scenario that had been played out in my lounge and bedroom, with one, I believe, misguided player who did not learn all of his lines correctly before becoming part of the ensemble cast that is my life....... I cannot always fuck like a man. I get lost some times, I become someone who craves and wants more than anything to be with someone, to hold them and be held, to talk, to fall asleep in one anothers arms and wake up there aswell. Other times I just want to get laid, and last night was one of those circumstances.
men do that all the time...... and I never said I would call him, I never lied to him and promised something more, I told him it was just sex, and yet he wanted to try to extend it just a bit more........ I finally understand why guys hate girls who think you fuck once and its a relationship......
I will put it out there now, I am not anti relationships, I would not refuse a relationship if I met the right guy, but I am not actively seeking to find that guy at this point in my life......
and right now, apart from my two beautiful baby boys, there is only one other person who is allowed to come into my space, my home, my bed and stay awhile...... and he knows who he is...
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
This is me
I learned some time ago that you cannot rely on anyone else. Fundamementally the only person who will ever act to truly protect you, look after you and put your wellbeing first is yourself. There is a symbiotic relationship between our hearts and our head though that falters at times, we only need to look at how some people choose a rampant path of destruction to define themselves, however I always thought I had enough self preservation, even respect for myself to not choose that path… imagine my disappointment when I discovered I had been betrayed by myself, by my heart, by my brain; when I told myself I was safe and happy and to have faith and forge onward into something positive. It turned out I had been directed into something that would scar me, burn me and forever more change the person I am today, and not for the better. The person who was always open and willing to give people a chance, who believed that deception was not at the forefront of every word uttered by someone in a conversation is now long gone. Forever more I shall be jaded, guarded and one who believes that people have been put on this planet to test, hurt and irreparably damage the innocence and purity that we are given at birth.
So how did this happen? How did my self-preservation instinct get clouded and lost when I so needed it most? By lies; by deception; by someone who told me what I wanted to hear in order to believe that a friendship of such deepness and seeming enduringness would survive the trials and tribulations of life…
Arrogance; the arrogance of some people, arrogance that makes you angry when they impose their opinions upon you, when you find out in hindsight they have twisted events and made themselves out to be this irresistible person, they make you out to be a laughing stock, they belittle you, they elevate their own flagging sense of self esteem by trying to make you out to be a victim; and yes to a degree I was, however to find out after that when you never asked for or wanted a relationship that this person has not only told people information to the contrary but embellished it to the point that you have literally stalked them gives rise to such feelings of utter indignation…. When someone who you know to be so intoxicated not only by their own feelings of grandeur and further enhanced by their habitual drug use (a sure fire sign to someone who is utterly unhappy with their life and their place in this world) makes such untrue statements about you as a person it is hard to go against your baser instincts and scream, fight and defend yourself… that is what I want to do, however I now try to conduct myself with an element of dignity, I will not reduce myself to his level, to his pathetic, self indulgent egocentric, phallocentric way of thinking and living his life.
I know details of his current life, details that further enforce what a terrible hurtful and self obsessed person this man is, and I also know details of the ultimate comeuppance, and I want so desperately to detail them here, but I wont, because to do so would lower me to his level; instead I shall hold them for myself and chuckle on the inside when times are tough.
This is an evil blog, not in my usual vein, part of me feels bad for writing it, but part of me wants to name and shame and scream from the rooftops that none should be allowed to treat people in this way, nobody has the right to take other peoples emotions and use them to prop up their own flagging self esteem.
I once blogged about a wonderful and beautiful friend of mine who was having a hard time with her partner, he constantly cut her down and did not treat her they way she should be treated. Outwardly she appeared to have it all yet at this time in her life when she should have been utterly happy, she was being pulled down, her essence, her inner beauty, her real self was being beaten down by someone who could not stand to see her radiate such amazing beauty…. Why are people like this? I do not profess to be beautiful or attractive on the outside, but I have always tried to be beautiful on the inside, make what I do count more than the way I look, but I suffer the usual human condition of being insecure about my physical appearance…. But why do people try to cut you down? As Kamal said “why are people so unkind?”
Oh I know, this blog is basically a rant about the unjustness of relationships, friendships and deeper ones, but what I guess I am trying to express is my utter anger, my anger more so in myself, not him, that I allowed someone I saw as a deep friend, not a relationship, to hurt me so much that I can no longer consider forming a deeper connection with someone, that the fear of being hurt by those I care for is so great I would rather cut myself off from forming those bonds again.
But if I do that, he wins. His arrogance would assume it is because I cannot get over him; well that is far from the truth. The reason I was motivated to write this was because I know I am terrified, I am so afraid, because I did meet someone, someone that I connected with (I hate that term but alas it fits the context). I met someone that I shared things with I have not shared with anyone ever, but I fear because although I have been so hurt before, I am still unable to completely guard myself and my emotions, so I still make myself vulnerable, which leads to this fear; fear that those things will be used against me, used to hurt me, turned around to belittle me, that I will be mocked for my honesty.
That is when I think maybe I am not such a bad person, for even after all the grief and hurt I still have to be myself, I still have to be honest with people, I’m still willing to expose some of the deepest and most intimate things that have occurred, and I do it because we are all the same; everyone hurts; everyone gets hurt; everyone suffers; and while some may not be able to express it, or they deal with it in a different way, by sharing it, it makes me feel like I am winning. I am still able to be the person I want to be, the person my mother even told me I should change (she told me to develop a layer of cynicism and not trust people). Yes, it makes me more vulnerable to others who are mean hearted and want to hurt, but I look at it that one day I will be surrounded by others who are the same as me and then honesty will be the one constant and it will be wonderful. As I have said before, some people may laugh or feel they have one up on me because I have been so open in a forum such as this, but I believe this mindset speaks volumes as to the nasty and hurtfulness of their basic humanity rather than indicating a weakness in my own.
So how did this happen? How did my self-preservation instinct get clouded and lost when I so needed it most? By lies; by deception; by someone who told me what I wanted to hear in order to believe that a friendship of such deepness and seeming enduringness would survive the trials and tribulations of life…
Arrogance; the arrogance of some people, arrogance that makes you angry when they impose their opinions upon you, when you find out in hindsight they have twisted events and made themselves out to be this irresistible person, they make you out to be a laughing stock, they belittle you, they elevate their own flagging sense of self esteem by trying to make you out to be a victim; and yes to a degree I was, however to find out after that when you never asked for or wanted a relationship that this person has not only told people information to the contrary but embellished it to the point that you have literally stalked them gives rise to such feelings of utter indignation…. When someone who you know to be so intoxicated not only by their own feelings of grandeur and further enhanced by their habitual drug use (a sure fire sign to someone who is utterly unhappy with their life and their place in this world) makes such untrue statements about you as a person it is hard to go against your baser instincts and scream, fight and defend yourself… that is what I want to do, however I now try to conduct myself with an element of dignity, I will not reduce myself to his level, to his pathetic, self indulgent egocentric, phallocentric way of thinking and living his life.
I know details of his current life, details that further enforce what a terrible hurtful and self obsessed person this man is, and I also know details of the ultimate comeuppance, and I want so desperately to detail them here, but I wont, because to do so would lower me to his level; instead I shall hold them for myself and chuckle on the inside when times are tough.
This is an evil blog, not in my usual vein, part of me feels bad for writing it, but part of me wants to name and shame and scream from the rooftops that none should be allowed to treat people in this way, nobody has the right to take other peoples emotions and use them to prop up their own flagging self esteem.
I once blogged about a wonderful and beautiful friend of mine who was having a hard time with her partner, he constantly cut her down and did not treat her they way she should be treated. Outwardly she appeared to have it all yet at this time in her life when she should have been utterly happy, she was being pulled down, her essence, her inner beauty, her real self was being beaten down by someone who could not stand to see her radiate such amazing beauty…. Why are people like this? I do not profess to be beautiful or attractive on the outside, but I have always tried to be beautiful on the inside, make what I do count more than the way I look, but I suffer the usual human condition of being insecure about my physical appearance…. But why do people try to cut you down? As Kamal said “why are people so unkind?”
Oh I know, this blog is basically a rant about the unjustness of relationships, friendships and deeper ones, but what I guess I am trying to express is my utter anger, my anger more so in myself, not him, that I allowed someone I saw as a deep friend, not a relationship, to hurt me so much that I can no longer consider forming a deeper connection with someone, that the fear of being hurt by those I care for is so great I would rather cut myself off from forming those bonds again.
But if I do that, he wins. His arrogance would assume it is because I cannot get over him; well that is far from the truth. The reason I was motivated to write this was because I know I am terrified, I am so afraid, because I did meet someone, someone that I connected with (I hate that term but alas it fits the context). I met someone that I shared things with I have not shared with anyone ever, but I fear because although I have been so hurt before, I am still unable to completely guard myself and my emotions, so I still make myself vulnerable, which leads to this fear; fear that those things will be used against me, used to hurt me, turned around to belittle me, that I will be mocked for my honesty.
That is when I think maybe I am not such a bad person, for even after all the grief and hurt I still have to be myself, I still have to be honest with people, I’m still willing to expose some of the deepest and most intimate things that have occurred, and I do it because we are all the same; everyone hurts; everyone gets hurt; everyone suffers; and while some may not be able to express it, or they deal with it in a different way, by sharing it, it makes me feel like I am winning. I am still able to be the person I want to be, the person my mother even told me I should change (she told me to develop a layer of cynicism and not trust people). Yes, it makes me more vulnerable to others who are mean hearted and want to hurt, but I look at it that one day I will be surrounded by others who are the same as me and then honesty will be the one constant and it will be wonderful. As I have said before, some people may laugh or feel they have one up on me because I have been so open in a forum such as this, but I believe this mindset speaks volumes as to the nasty and hurtfulness of their basic humanity rather than indicating a weakness in my own.
Friday, May 4, 2007
People who change you monumentally, for the better... in the unlikeliest of ways
I had prepared and written a huge blog detailing the events of my life over the past few days but as I have sat here this evening and pontificated I decided these events cannot be described in the details I had outlined. I know I should edit this but I wont, because the nature of the changes these incidents have had on my life, in a way demand that my detailing of them comes right from the heart, in its purest form, without editing.
They involved people whose honour and pride is paramount and I had no right what so ever to detail incidents I had born witness to, incidents outside the realm of my understanding and comprehension. What I can do however, is try to explain how the unlikeliest of people have impacted upon my life in a way I never thought possible, how some of my strongly held beliefs and opinions have been forever altered by me finally dropping my barriers and allowing myself to get to know some people I had never sought to interact with previously; I speak of the American Sailors..
Now before I go on I need to clarify, Sailors is the broad media term used to describe the annual docking and resultant onslaught of drunk young guys letting off steam. I am specifically talking about the Marine Corps guys I had the absolute pleasure of spending time with.
Now I had always avoided town when they had come in, any interactions I had ever had had been rather negative, they were too loud, too drunk and too sleazy; what is that saying someone came up with "American Sailors, overpaid, oversexed and over here", but this year, working in a bar, I had no way out! Yes, many of the guys who came in were offensively indicative of the negative traits I just detailed... Mr Worlds Greatest Street Fighter and his friend My Pen Is Huge. sigh.. however through the noise, alcohol and bravado, a still inhibriated but much quieter group of marines emerged. These boys have forever altered my opinion of the military, and while I am not pro war, I have always had respect for those who go and risk their lives for I do not have the courage to do such a selfless act; that respect and admiration is now infinately greater.
I spoke to these boys, spent time with them, time not sullied by the effects of alcohol, they told me some of their stories, why they had gone to the marines, things about their families, their homes, their relationships with each other. And for me, most poignant and most lingering as to the depth of courage honour and humanity I saw in these boys, they spent time with my children, they cared for them, they gave of their time to make sure my kids were having fun, and that is no small feat!
One of the most enduring images I shall hold dear is of, on the drive home from Mandurah, looking in the rear view mirror and seeing my two sons, holding the hand of a US Marine and as they rested their heads in his lap he stroked their hair; it was heartbreakingly beautiful to see someone who I knew had born witness to some horrific events and had to, i am sure, do things you or I could never concieve of, exhibiting such tenderness, it was a moment of complete human kindness.....
These boys are ordinary people, they are like us, however they have chosen to push themselves and become extraordinary, and they have been thrust into an environment so utterly esoteric and out of the realm of our comprehension, we who sit here have no right to cast any judgement.
Now I know there have been incidents cited in the media about the military in Iraq, about the breaches of human rights, but as with any line of work, there are always the few who behave negatively...... to put it in context, shall we assume that all AFL footballers are lying cheating police running away from cowards who hide behind their clubs and their lawyers when they screw up due to being drug addicts?? I thought not, and now I shall be an ardent defender of the troops whenever I hear anyone espousing anti military sentiment.
Two of these boys I know are heading home, their tour is up, they now choose to stay and continue to fight or become former Marines (not an ex marine, there are no ex marines) and re-enter civilian life. One of them, the one who tenderly stroked my sons hair as they slept, has two years left. As I sit here now I start to cry thinking about him going back. For the next two years he will constantly be in my thoughts until I know he is safely home. My tears show that I am not someone pro war. As much as I respect and admire their courage, I still cannot understand how they can do it, how they find the courage to face that fear and forge on, because I do not think I could.
I am thankful for having met them, especially one of them, who shared with me and was honest and raw as a human being with me, more than anyone else ever has. I know some of you probably laugh at this, yeah so it's just a bunch of US Sailors... well no they are not...... these boys are amazing people who have faced adversity, challenges and experiences that existentially would be so influencial, yet also completely unable to be endured by the greater proportion of our community.
Be anti war, be anti Bush, be whatever you want to be, but don't be anti those who go on the front line and risk their lives every day they are out there, for they do not make the war, they are not the ones creating the reasons and conflicts, they are not the political machine that thrusts the globe into conflict. But they are the front line when it comes to its defense and those of them who conduct themselves with the honour, humanity and courage I witnessed deserve nothing but our support and respect, for respect is something to be earned, not assigned due to a badge or station, and these boys, in my eyes, will forever have my infinate respect.
May the USS Boxer bring you home safely boys
They involved people whose honour and pride is paramount and I had no right what so ever to detail incidents I had born witness to, incidents outside the realm of my understanding and comprehension. What I can do however, is try to explain how the unlikeliest of people have impacted upon my life in a way I never thought possible, how some of my strongly held beliefs and opinions have been forever altered by me finally dropping my barriers and allowing myself to get to know some people I had never sought to interact with previously; I speak of the American Sailors..
Now before I go on I need to clarify, Sailors is the broad media term used to describe the annual docking and resultant onslaught of drunk young guys letting off steam. I am specifically talking about the Marine Corps guys I had the absolute pleasure of spending time with.
Now I had always avoided town when they had come in, any interactions I had ever had had been rather negative, they were too loud, too drunk and too sleazy; what is that saying someone came up with "American Sailors, overpaid, oversexed and over here", but this year, working in a bar, I had no way out! Yes, many of the guys who came in were offensively indicative of the negative traits I just detailed... Mr Worlds Greatest Street Fighter and his friend My Pen Is Huge. sigh.. however through the noise, alcohol and bravado, a still inhibriated but much quieter group of marines emerged. These boys have forever altered my opinion of the military, and while I am not pro war, I have always had respect for those who go and risk their lives for I do not have the courage to do such a selfless act; that respect and admiration is now infinately greater.
I spoke to these boys, spent time with them, time not sullied by the effects of alcohol, they told me some of their stories, why they had gone to the marines, things about their families, their homes, their relationships with each other. And for me, most poignant and most lingering as to the depth of courage honour and humanity I saw in these boys, they spent time with my children, they cared for them, they gave of their time to make sure my kids were having fun, and that is no small feat!
One of the most enduring images I shall hold dear is of, on the drive home from Mandurah, looking in the rear view mirror and seeing my two sons, holding the hand of a US Marine and as they rested their heads in his lap he stroked their hair; it was heartbreakingly beautiful to see someone who I knew had born witness to some horrific events and had to, i am sure, do things you or I could never concieve of, exhibiting such tenderness, it was a moment of complete human kindness.....
These boys are ordinary people, they are like us, however they have chosen to push themselves and become extraordinary, and they have been thrust into an environment so utterly esoteric and out of the realm of our comprehension, we who sit here have no right to cast any judgement.
Now I know there have been incidents cited in the media about the military in Iraq, about the breaches of human rights, but as with any line of work, there are always the few who behave negatively...... to put it in context, shall we assume that all AFL footballers are lying cheating police running away from cowards who hide behind their clubs and their lawyers when they screw up due to being drug addicts?? I thought not, and now I shall be an ardent defender of the troops whenever I hear anyone espousing anti military sentiment.
Two of these boys I know are heading home, their tour is up, they now choose to stay and continue to fight or become former Marines (not an ex marine, there are no ex marines) and re-enter civilian life. One of them, the one who tenderly stroked my sons hair as they slept, has two years left. As I sit here now I start to cry thinking about him going back. For the next two years he will constantly be in my thoughts until I know he is safely home. My tears show that I am not someone pro war. As much as I respect and admire their courage, I still cannot understand how they can do it, how they find the courage to face that fear and forge on, because I do not think I could.
I am thankful for having met them, especially one of them, who shared with me and was honest and raw as a human being with me, more than anyone else ever has. I know some of you probably laugh at this, yeah so it's just a bunch of US Sailors... well no they are not...... these boys are amazing people who have faced adversity, challenges and experiences that existentially would be so influencial, yet also completely unable to be endured by the greater proportion of our community.
Be anti war, be anti Bush, be whatever you want to be, but don't be anti those who go on the front line and risk their lives every day they are out there, for they do not make the war, they are not the ones creating the reasons and conflicts, they are not the political machine that thrusts the globe into conflict. But they are the front line when it comes to its defense and those of them who conduct themselves with the honour, humanity and courage I witnessed deserve nothing but our support and respect, for respect is something to be earned, not assigned due to a badge or station, and these boys, in my eyes, will forever have my infinate respect.
May the USS Boxer bring you home safely boys
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Matriarchal psychosis and its impact on genital mutilation, apparently...
Lil Pink Tiny Hood
It’s an interesting and thought provoking insight into someone when we see how he or she chooses to express themselves. In a society where conformity is often expected, infact demanded in many organizations and indeed families, those little things we do to make ourselves OURSELVES and break a little out of the mould can be as exciting to witness as a third party as it is to experience for the individual themselves.
As many of you know, I have 6 tattoos, each one recognising important and influential moments or people in my life, and until Monday afternoon, I had three piercings (not including ears). Well now we have upped that number to 4 and the beguiling, confronting, humorous and often ludicrously absurd tale that charts that new piercing; the term coined by the boy, the cherry on my cupcake, follows.
I will begin in a moment of Doctor Phil/Oprahesque anti-narcissism and honour my mother, who in a tyrannical email denounced my ability to love myself, questioned her role as a parent and, I am sure, though I did not see it, beat her breast in frustration and anger as she acknowledged the fact her daughter had voluntarily undergone “genital mutilation” as she so hyperbolically described it. I was a little stunned at the outburst as I had always prided myself on having a Mum who was liberal, open minded and not a product of her generation… well I guess the liberalness does not extend to a clitoral hood piercing, alas for me; now I bear the wrath of the medically trained matriarch who shall no doubt regale me with tales forever more of women whose clitoris fell off, fell out, combusted, exploded or possibly even got caught in a Stephen Hawkins inspired black hole anomaly and was from there after only visible using the Hubble telescope due to having a hood piercing.
Well my response to this onslaught was initially anger, as I believe is utterly normal when someone essentially tells you they think you’re insane, then the woman my mother raised, the one who has a baulshy in your face attitude and stubborn mindedness came to the for and I decided to do what to me seemed the only reasonable response; I outlined all my positive points, made a wonderful analogy about her having pierced ears and the mutilation of the aural area that would be considered abhorrent if we lived in a culture that regarded music as a higher form of human expression than sex, and I sealed the deal, iced the cupcake if you will, by attaching some choice photos I found online of women with clitoral hood piercings. I await her response…
Now, to begin this tale of clitoral mayhem; it began on a warm Sunday morning after a staff meeting, when my wonderful co-worker Nat and I wandered the city and decided piercing was in order. Finding a piercer she decided upon tongue and well, you all know what I chose. Alas she was denied due to being hung over (I suggested it was that she was a dirty skank but that did not seem to wash) and so I was left to intrepidly venture into the world of “extreme piercing” alone. So here I was, naked from the waist down, legs spread, a woman I had never met before MEASURING my clitoral hod and Nat holding my hand. There was much fumbling, none of it pleasant. They use small implements to get under the hood and well, imagine you had a hummer truck you were trying to fit into one of those “COMPACT CAR ONLY” spaces. Not comfortable. Well the fumbling seemed to be going on and unbelievably I was actually wishing she would just stick the needle in so I could get it over with. By this stage Nat had obviously become bored with the view of the piercing studio because now she to was at the “business end” overseeing the process…
But on this day fortune did not favour the bold, or those with a wish to undergo “genital mutilation”. The piercer whipped off her gloves and with a trembling voice apologetically told me she could not do my piercing because, oh dear, my hood is too small and she needs specialist tools… take a moment to laugh, it has been a common reaction.
Now we have all been brought up to believe that men compare and fret about penis size, wondering is it bigger than his, thicker, ‘stronger’; Nat informed me after we had received the bombshell news that I was indeed Lil Pink Tiny Hood that she had thought to herself “Mine is bigger than that”….. So now not only can women compare the size of their thighs and breasts we can compare hoods and give ourselves yet another thing to obsess about. It is possible to go and have a labial tuck if you believe your labia to be too large; maybe there is a market for clitoral hood stretching? I myself am more than happy with my lil pink tiny hood, and frankly it means that finally I have found a part of my anatomy that can be classed as petite! I have spent 33 years of my life with a strapping strong mesomorphic physique that no amount of dieting will make dainty, and I have embraced that, however at least now I know when it comes to clitoral hood jewellery purchasing, I can finally shop in the “petite smalls” department.
However, petite smalls aside I was going to carry on undeterred and the following afternoon, sweating nervously, I collected Justin from work and headed, via the gelato shop, to have another go at ye ole vertical hood.
I often find myself wondering why my life cannot take a normal and even path, and once again funny and amusing incidents occurred on the way to said piercer. Justin, himself an aficionado of the genital piercing, being the proud owner of a Prince Albert, informed me I needed to purchase panty liners as there could be a small amount of bleeding post pierce. Now to digress a moment here, I must devote a few lines to Justin and his lack of inhibition when it comes to all things “genital”. Now as those of you reading this who know me personally, you will know I am not averse to getting my tits out. There are few of my friends who have not seen my boobs at some stage or another, its not that I do it for any other reason than to me, they are just bits of fat with a discoloured bit of skin at the end (although I must say I do have great tits:P!) and therefore I have no qualms about getting them out, be it to alleviate the issue of tan lines at the beach (I hate tan lines), as a drunken dare, or a sober one for that matter or just cause I need to get changed and well what the fuck who cares…. Well Justin seems to take this approach with, as he fondly refers to it, his ‘junk’. A man who has posed naked with every statue/monument between WA and SA, his infamous Guinness Boot Camp flash to the opposing teams, and the stories he has regaled us with about attaching his mates keys to his “junk jewellery” and taking photos of it so they can realise where their keys have been after they wake up from a drunken night out… To be able to attach a small teddy bear (you know those ones that McDonalds was giving away for awhile) to your genitals and have it hang from your short leg to freak people out with is truly an esoteric venture and kudos to him for having, obviously, the testicular fortitude to be able to pull it off (no pun intended). Anyway, back to the main story.
Into Target we ventured and you would not believe how amusing it is too see a guy, clutching a gelato cup, saunter up to a middle aged woman and confidently ask her where the panty liners were. Her face was reminiscent of a Dali melting clock moment, she stammered and stuttered and blushed then pointed vaguely in the vicinity of “feminine hygiene products” (that classification in itself deserves a whole blog devoted to it and the negative connotations it evokes; the implied notion that womens natural state is unhygienic and needs cleansing, reminiscent of biblical and mythological tales where femininity, female power, female sexuality and the vagina were viewed as evil and to be feared, for men were so weak they were unable to resist…… that doesn’t make the guys pathetic apparently, it makes us evil! OH there will no doubt be a blog about that, and soon!!)
So panty liners in hand we descended into the abyss that was the piercing studio. I was as nervous as all hell, more so about the fact I could not understand how it wouldn’t be excruciatingly painful, and so Justin suggested calling Jo because she had been through it and would be a comforting presence for me. Now a bit about Jo. Jo is a tiny wisp of a thing I had met only two days earlier. She is one of those breath of fresh air types you meet every once in awhile, someone who, even when drunk, says things she then follows through on…. I myself am a strong believer in never saying something for the sake of it; always mean it, something I have found a HUGE proportion of the population does not subscribe to. Why do so many people feel the need to say shallow and empty platitudes? Isn’t saying nothing better than lying to someone of being “socially polite”? However, Jo I have discovered is one of those people who subscribes to the notion of say it only if you mean it, which immediately elevates her above a large proportion of the population in my eyes, and hence I can only ascertain is why I went “OK” when it was suggested she come and give me moral support while I was half naked and nervous as hell and having only met her briefly two nights previously.
So here I was, legs spread, naked from the waist down, yet another person I did not know measuring and investigating my apparently undersized hood, another work mate by my side and Jo offering words of encouragement occasionally interspersed with “I’m glad its not me” (NOT SO ENCOURAGING OR COMFORTING JO!!!)
So, finally it happened. The clamp was in place, the bar had been chosen and after two deep breaths, the hood was pierced…. Now I would love to say that it hurt so little I barely felt it, that it was the least painful of all the piercing, not including ears, that I have had done, and to a degree it was in terms of pain longevity, HOWEVER, for about two seconds it was excruciating, and the layers of missing skin on Justins forearm is testament to that fact. Someone just thrust a sharpened piece of metal through an extremely delicate part of my person, OF COURSE IT DAMN WELL HURT! But not for long, so it was manageable!
After all was done, the jewellery was in place, I was handed a mirror to have a look, and oh my, it looked nothing like I thought it would and I fell in love with it straight away! So much so that I insisted Jo come and have a look, which she did, followed by Justin, it was like having a new baby that you want to show off to those who come to visit you! For some reason the fact of my partial nudity in the face of everyone else being fully clothed did not affect me, the fact I had had a stranger poking about in my bits was inconsequential, because I had the cutest little gold bar wrapped around my clit and it was awesome!!!
But it is one of those strange existential moments when you suddenly snap back to reality and think, “Hang on, I’m exposed here” and your modesty returns. After all I had been through in the past two days, the number of people who had peered, poked at and skewered my bits all were forgotten when my vulnerability came to the fore once more. I had been spread eagle moments earlier but when I came to get off the bed and put my pants back on, I asked everyone to leave the room for I felt shy putting on a panty liner and my panties in front of them.
So according to my Mum, the events I have just detailed would be indicative of self hatred, of her shortfalls as a parent, well to that I say, stop being so egocentric Mum! Not everything I choose to do it a representation of my upbringing with you! I chose to get this done, I wanted to get this done, and damn hell I am so happy with it! It is now three days later and I am in no pain, there is no swelling, I am slightly bruised but that’s about it. I cant wait til she is healed enough to take her for a test run! Right now I am a little daunted! How different will it be? Will it hurt? Will I need to change my technique? Will the boy need to change his technique? The unknown, the mysterious, the slightly scary fact of not knowing what is in store… it is like being a virgin all over again, anticipating with baited breath my first sexual experience, and for someone of my age to be able to feel almost like a virgin again, well hell, it was worth getting it done and getting my Mum off side just for that alone!!!
GET PIERCED!
xxx
It’s an interesting and thought provoking insight into someone when we see how he or she chooses to express themselves. In a society where conformity is often expected, infact demanded in many organizations and indeed families, those little things we do to make ourselves OURSELVES and break a little out of the mould can be as exciting to witness as a third party as it is to experience for the individual themselves.
As many of you know, I have 6 tattoos, each one recognising important and influential moments or people in my life, and until Monday afternoon, I had three piercings (not including ears). Well now we have upped that number to 4 and the beguiling, confronting, humorous and often ludicrously absurd tale that charts that new piercing; the term coined by the boy, the cherry on my cupcake, follows.
I will begin in a moment of Doctor Phil/Oprahesque anti-narcissism and honour my mother, who in a tyrannical email denounced my ability to love myself, questioned her role as a parent and, I am sure, though I did not see it, beat her breast in frustration and anger as she acknowledged the fact her daughter had voluntarily undergone “genital mutilation” as she so hyperbolically described it. I was a little stunned at the outburst as I had always prided myself on having a Mum who was liberal, open minded and not a product of her generation… well I guess the liberalness does not extend to a clitoral hood piercing, alas for me; now I bear the wrath of the medically trained matriarch who shall no doubt regale me with tales forever more of women whose clitoris fell off, fell out, combusted, exploded or possibly even got caught in a Stephen Hawkins inspired black hole anomaly and was from there after only visible using the Hubble telescope due to having a hood piercing.
Well my response to this onslaught was initially anger, as I believe is utterly normal when someone essentially tells you they think you’re insane, then the woman my mother raised, the one who has a baulshy in your face attitude and stubborn mindedness came to the for and I decided to do what to me seemed the only reasonable response; I outlined all my positive points, made a wonderful analogy about her having pierced ears and the mutilation of the aural area that would be considered abhorrent if we lived in a culture that regarded music as a higher form of human expression than sex, and I sealed the deal, iced the cupcake if you will, by attaching some choice photos I found online of women with clitoral hood piercings. I await her response…
Now, to begin this tale of clitoral mayhem; it began on a warm Sunday morning after a staff meeting, when my wonderful co-worker Nat and I wandered the city and decided piercing was in order. Finding a piercer she decided upon tongue and well, you all know what I chose. Alas she was denied due to being hung over (I suggested it was that she was a dirty skank but that did not seem to wash) and so I was left to intrepidly venture into the world of “extreme piercing” alone. So here I was, naked from the waist down, legs spread, a woman I had never met before MEASURING my clitoral hod and Nat holding my hand. There was much fumbling, none of it pleasant. They use small implements to get under the hood and well, imagine you had a hummer truck you were trying to fit into one of those “COMPACT CAR ONLY” spaces. Not comfortable. Well the fumbling seemed to be going on and unbelievably I was actually wishing she would just stick the needle in so I could get it over with. By this stage Nat had obviously become bored with the view of the piercing studio because now she to was at the “business end” overseeing the process…
But on this day fortune did not favour the bold, or those with a wish to undergo “genital mutilation”. The piercer whipped off her gloves and with a trembling voice apologetically told me she could not do my piercing because, oh dear, my hood is too small and she needs specialist tools… take a moment to laugh, it has been a common reaction.
Now we have all been brought up to believe that men compare and fret about penis size, wondering is it bigger than his, thicker, ‘stronger’; Nat informed me after we had received the bombshell news that I was indeed Lil Pink Tiny Hood that she had thought to herself “Mine is bigger than that”….. So now not only can women compare the size of their thighs and breasts we can compare hoods and give ourselves yet another thing to obsess about. It is possible to go and have a labial tuck if you believe your labia to be too large; maybe there is a market for clitoral hood stretching? I myself am more than happy with my lil pink tiny hood, and frankly it means that finally I have found a part of my anatomy that can be classed as petite! I have spent 33 years of my life with a strapping strong mesomorphic physique that no amount of dieting will make dainty, and I have embraced that, however at least now I know when it comes to clitoral hood jewellery purchasing, I can finally shop in the “petite smalls” department.
However, petite smalls aside I was going to carry on undeterred and the following afternoon, sweating nervously, I collected Justin from work and headed, via the gelato shop, to have another go at ye ole vertical hood.
I often find myself wondering why my life cannot take a normal and even path, and once again funny and amusing incidents occurred on the way to said piercer. Justin, himself an aficionado of the genital piercing, being the proud owner of a Prince Albert, informed me I needed to purchase panty liners as there could be a small amount of bleeding post pierce. Now to digress a moment here, I must devote a few lines to Justin and his lack of inhibition when it comes to all things “genital”. Now as those of you reading this who know me personally, you will know I am not averse to getting my tits out. There are few of my friends who have not seen my boobs at some stage or another, its not that I do it for any other reason than to me, they are just bits of fat with a discoloured bit of skin at the end (although I must say I do have great tits:P!) and therefore I have no qualms about getting them out, be it to alleviate the issue of tan lines at the beach (I hate tan lines), as a drunken dare, or a sober one for that matter or just cause I need to get changed and well what the fuck who cares…. Well Justin seems to take this approach with, as he fondly refers to it, his ‘junk’. A man who has posed naked with every statue/monument between WA and SA, his infamous Guinness Boot Camp flash to the opposing teams, and the stories he has regaled us with about attaching his mates keys to his “junk jewellery” and taking photos of it so they can realise where their keys have been after they wake up from a drunken night out… To be able to attach a small teddy bear (you know those ones that McDonalds was giving away for awhile) to your genitals and have it hang from your short leg to freak people out with is truly an esoteric venture and kudos to him for having, obviously, the testicular fortitude to be able to pull it off (no pun intended). Anyway, back to the main story.
Into Target we ventured and you would not believe how amusing it is too see a guy, clutching a gelato cup, saunter up to a middle aged woman and confidently ask her where the panty liners were. Her face was reminiscent of a Dali melting clock moment, she stammered and stuttered and blushed then pointed vaguely in the vicinity of “feminine hygiene products” (that classification in itself deserves a whole blog devoted to it and the negative connotations it evokes; the implied notion that womens natural state is unhygienic and needs cleansing, reminiscent of biblical and mythological tales where femininity, female power, female sexuality and the vagina were viewed as evil and to be feared, for men were so weak they were unable to resist…… that doesn’t make the guys pathetic apparently, it makes us evil! OH there will no doubt be a blog about that, and soon!!)
So panty liners in hand we descended into the abyss that was the piercing studio. I was as nervous as all hell, more so about the fact I could not understand how it wouldn’t be excruciatingly painful, and so Justin suggested calling Jo because she had been through it and would be a comforting presence for me. Now a bit about Jo. Jo is a tiny wisp of a thing I had met only two days earlier. She is one of those breath of fresh air types you meet every once in awhile, someone who, even when drunk, says things she then follows through on…. I myself am a strong believer in never saying something for the sake of it; always mean it, something I have found a HUGE proportion of the population does not subscribe to. Why do so many people feel the need to say shallow and empty platitudes? Isn’t saying nothing better than lying to someone of being “socially polite”? However, Jo I have discovered is one of those people who subscribes to the notion of say it only if you mean it, which immediately elevates her above a large proportion of the population in my eyes, and hence I can only ascertain is why I went “OK” when it was suggested she come and give me moral support while I was half naked and nervous as hell and having only met her briefly two nights previously.
So here I was, legs spread, naked from the waist down, yet another person I did not know measuring and investigating my apparently undersized hood, another work mate by my side and Jo offering words of encouragement occasionally interspersed with “I’m glad its not me” (NOT SO ENCOURAGING OR COMFORTING JO!!!)
So, finally it happened. The clamp was in place, the bar had been chosen and after two deep breaths, the hood was pierced…. Now I would love to say that it hurt so little I barely felt it, that it was the least painful of all the piercing, not including ears, that I have had done, and to a degree it was in terms of pain longevity, HOWEVER, for about two seconds it was excruciating, and the layers of missing skin on Justins forearm is testament to that fact. Someone just thrust a sharpened piece of metal through an extremely delicate part of my person, OF COURSE IT DAMN WELL HURT! But not for long, so it was manageable!
After all was done, the jewellery was in place, I was handed a mirror to have a look, and oh my, it looked nothing like I thought it would and I fell in love with it straight away! So much so that I insisted Jo come and have a look, which she did, followed by Justin, it was like having a new baby that you want to show off to those who come to visit you! For some reason the fact of my partial nudity in the face of everyone else being fully clothed did not affect me, the fact I had had a stranger poking about in my bits was inconsequential, because I had the cutest little gold bar wrapped around my clit and it was awesome!!!
But it is one of those strange existential moments when you suddenly snap back to reality and think, “Hang on, I’m exposed here” and your modesty returns. After all I had been through in the past two days, the number of people who had peered, poked at and skewered my bits all were forgotten when my vulnerability came to the fore once more. I had been spread eagle moments earlier but when I came to get off the bed and put my pants back on, I asked everyone to leave the room for I felt shy putting on a panty liner and my panties in front of them.
So according to my Mum, the events I have just detailed would be indicative of self hatred, of her shortfalls as a parent, well to that I say, stop being so egocentric Mum! Not everything I choose to do it a representation of my upbringing with you! I chose to get this done, I wanted to get this done, and damn hell I am so happy with it! It is now three days later and I am in no pain, there is no swelling, I am slightly bruised but that’s about it. I cant wait til she is healed enough to take her for a test run! Right now I am a little daunted! How different will it be? Will it hurt? Will I need to change my technique? Will the boy need to change his technique? The unknown, the mysterious, the slightly scary fact of not knowing what is in store… it is like being a virgin all over again, anticipating with baited breath my first sexual experience, and for someone of my age to be able to feel almost like a virgin again, well hell, it was worth getting it done and getting my Mum off side just for that alone!!!
GET PIERCED!
xxx
Friday, April 6, 2007
tragically its all true
I knew I couldnt stay silent for long! I was not called a baulshy bitch for nothing!
A wonderful beautiful friend of mine told me a rather chuckle worthy tale but before I regail you with it, I shall weave an intricate web around another time of my life.....
For a few foolish weeks I yet again flirted with the whole 'fuck buddy' thing. I really liked this guy as a friend, but in a stupid moment of horniness figured, why not? Anyway, he always came across to everyone as a bit of an arrogant so and so, but there was a nice sweet (OK, sheltered due to being an overindulged spoilt kid but anyway) part to him, ANYWAY, I basically decided to break the ice in my usual subtle manner by simply blurting out "hey so do you reckon you can shag without strings cause I am damn horny" and his response immediately put my 'no good hot sex here' radar on full alert, he looked at me stunned then sat on the couch next to me and said nothing for AGES...... but kind kept sliding a bit closer......... after about 20 minutes he said, "I think I can can you?" and I said 'yes' and jumped him.........
Why did I bother? A 22 year old guy was offered no strings sex and it took him 20 minutes to get up the courage to say anything????????? And I ended up jumping him anyway!?!?!?! OMG...... it gets better, oh my does it get better......I gave this chap his first proper blow job, from go to, well, blow, and he exclaimed after that he couldnt believe he hadnt demanded that before (demanded??? nice) BUT the kicker is, it took him less than 2 minutes to come!!! And I still ignored the warning signs ladies!!!! I blundered on convinced it was gonna be OK........
Well we did it that night (he kept his shirt on!!!!!!!!!!!! he was the one with body issues!) and ladies, it slide in and he shot his load............. :( but I slept with him subsequently! What the hell was I thinking!?
Now I am sorry but I know this to be true, I am a damn good shag (and I know he thought so too cause I was told by one of his mates!) and maybe I thought I could train him so subsequent women he encountered would reap the benefits of my years of experience (sluttishness?)....... alas no.
Guys never say this, ever....
"Yeah I will rub out the easy one so I last longer" (what five minutes mate?)
Well after a few weeks of this i figured he could be someone elses problem so I said "I value the friendship more than the sex lets stop".... Mr No strings sat me down and demanded to know why? Whats going on? It was worse than a relationship break up! OMG! And they reckon we are the ones who cant fuck without emotions!?!?!?!
Now would you believe IT GETS BETTER!
After our chat he said to me two things that made me swear never to go back
"I give you two weeks before you come crawling back"
"Can we do it one more time, I really want to try anal sex and film it"
Yes, both of those things were uttered by this 'gentleman' AFTER I said lets not shag anymore!
Now on at least four subsequent occaisons he tried to get into my knickers again, a brilliant example being when he came over one day cause we had not caught up for ages, and he went to leave and I said it was a shame we didnt have more time, his response "I can stay a few more minutes if you let me plow you"........... I asked him to leave!
BUT, months later, I asked for his help on a film related matter, just after another one of his failed get down hels pants missions, and he refused. I bluntly asked him if he would have helped had I fucked him and the idiot responded, "well, probably yes" I told him to fuck off and hung up......... that was a good six months ago and I have not spoken to him since.
NOW, this is what inspired me to tell this tale of bad sex and male idiocy........ my wonderful friend found his myspace page and sent me a message to say that under one of his pictures, there was a comment about him being hung like a horse. Now this guy was not tall but very "masculine", stocky, good facial hair, strong looking, he did have a ridiculously hairy back (shudder, once again I ignored ALL the warning signs!) hence the shirt on during sex (and he NEVER walked around naked! that is like the BEST thing about being intimate with someone! getting to walk about naked! I love that! I am rarely dressed at home anyway..... except for my ugg boots, but anyway)
Now, here is the reveal, and I can tell you know what it is......... this man with all these signs of uber manliness had without a doubt the smallest penis I have ever ever ever seen; ever.......
It was possibly four inches when fully hard, maybe, and he was one of those guys who always went soft (actually the only one I ever had but my friends have told me the sad tale) so not only was it incredibly small it was next to useless have the time anyway........
This I was going to come crawling back for???????????
This can barely last five minutes even with an 'easy rub out' prior to the main event?
I have been very very lucky in my sexual encounters (yes I will admit there have been many, I like sex but not relationships, work it out for yourself) and I have only had two small penises, his was one and his was the smallest.......... you would think a guy with so little to offer would make sure his other skills were up to scratch but alas no..... another great quote from him "I cant go down on you too long, my jaw gets tired" WHAT WAS I THINKING????
As I am sure I have said previously, I disagree with the oft used comment "Sex is like pizza, even when its bad its good" er, so so so no! Especially in this case!
I expect alot from my partners, as I like to give alot, and I have had some awesome awesome sex in my time, just recently I partook of a marathon six hour session that involved every room in the house, a mercy dash to get more condoms and lube, some awesomely placed piercings (oh my THAT was good), ended with us in the back yard on a swing as the sun came up and took us two days to recover from.......... That is what I expect sex to be! I like sex! Mr No strings did not provide sex, I cant even label what he provided it was so bad (and small).
I wanted a 400 gram toblerone bar and what I got was one of those home brand chocolate frogs that was snapped in half and had that icky white stuff on it.........
So I now have a rule, if I go the shag and its not GREAT first time out, I dont go back......... am I a mean and cruel bitch? I like to think so......
and as an interesting aside, another one of my 'daliances' prior to our get togetehr, told me how hung he was, he even used the term "baby holding an apple"...... well it must have been a very very premature baby holding the worlds tiniest apple.... GUYS WE ARE NOT SILLY, JUST CAUSE YOU SAY ITS BIG DOES NOT MEAN WE WILL THINK IT IS WHEN WE SEE IT! This guy was average, but cause he talked it up so much I expected alot, and well, oh dear. Now I didnt sleep with him, I had taken a vow of celibacy, no penetration, and as I said to a friend after (who happens to have one of the HUGEST I have ever seen, I am talking MASSIVE, and yes, it is another male friend I have shagged, so what) I was not going to blow my vow of celibacy on somwthing that would barely touch the sides!!!
Now I am sure many of you will think this is awful of me to write, but I am sorry I look upon it this way.... for so long we women ahve had to deal with the utter objectification by men, if we dont measure Cleo or Cosmoplitanesque models of female beauty we are labelled bags, moles, thighs too big, ass to big, boobs not big enough... this is my chance to say guess what, you guys dont always deliver the goods, and as another friend of mine and I laughed about the other day, a vagina is a vagina, but a penis is not just a penis! Oh dear no! And you know what, to repeat a former blog, size does matter, its the meat AND the motion, bigger is always better and I am yet to meet a girl who doesnt love a good solid cock!
You can keep your home brand chocolate frog with its white icky stuff, I am going my 400 gram toblerone.......
A wonderful beautiful friend of mine told me a rather chuckle worthy tale but before I regail you with it, I shall weave an intricate web around another time of my life.....
For a few foolish weeks I yet again flirted with the whole 'fuck buddy' thing. I really liked this guy as a friend, but in a stupid moment of horniness figured, why not? Anyway, he always came across to everyone as a bit of an arrogant so and so, but there was a nice sweet (OK, sheltered due to being an overindulged spoilt kid but anyway) part to him, ANYWAY, I basically decided to break the ice in my usual subtle manner by simply blurting out "hey so do you reckon you can shag without strings cause I am damn horny" and his response immediately put my 'no good hot sex here' radar on full alert, he looked at me stunned then sat on the couch next to me and said nothing for AGES...... but kind kept sliding a bit closer......... after about 20 minutes he said, "I think I can can you?" and I said 'yes' and jumped him.........
Why did I bother? A 22 year old guy was offered no strings sex and it took him 20 minutes to get up the courage to say anything????????? And I ended up jumping him anyway!?!?!?! OMG...... it gets better, oh my does it get better......I gave this chap his first proper blow job, from go to, well, blow, and he exclaimed after that he couldnt believe he hadnt demanded that before (demanded??? nice) BUT the kicker is, it took him less than 2 minutes to come!!! And I still ignored the warning signs ladies!!!! I blundered on convinced it was gonna be OK........
Well we did it that night (he kept his shirt on!!!!!!!!!!!! he was the one with body issues!) and ladies, it slide in and he shot his load............. :( but I slept with him subsequently! What the hell was I thinking!?
Now I am sorry but I know this to be true, I am a damn good shag (and I know he thought so too cause I was told by one of his mates!) and maybe I thought I could train him so subsequent women he encountered would reap the benefits of my years of experience (sluttishness?)....... alas no.
Guys never say this, ever....
"Yeah I will rub out the easy one so I last longer" (what five minutes mate?)
Well after a few weeks of this i figured he could be someone elses problem so I said "I value the friendship more than the sex lets stop".... Mr No strings sat me down and demanded to know why? Whats going on? It was worse than a relationship break up! OMG! And they reckon we are the ones who cant fuck without emotions!?!?!?!
Now would you believe IT GETS BETTER!
After our chat he said to me two things that made me swear never to go back
"I give you two weeks before you come crawling back"
"Can we do it one more time, I really want to try anal sex and film it"
Yes, both of those things were uttered by this 'gentleman' AFTER I said lets not shag anymore!
Now on at least four subsequent occaisons he tried to get into my knickers again, a brilliant example being when he came over one day cause we had not caught up for ages, and he went to leave and I said it was a shame we didnt have more time, his response "I can stay a few more minutes if you let me plow you"........... I asked him to leave!
BUT, months later, I asked for his help on a film related matter, just after another one of his failed get down hels pants missions, and he refused. I bluntly asked him if he would have helped had I fucked him and the idiot responded, "well, probably yes" I told him to fuck off and hung up......... that was a good six months ago and I have not spoken to him since.
NOW, this is what inspired me to tell this tale of bad sex and male idiocy........ my wonderful friend found his myspace page and sent me a message to say that under one of his pictures, there was a comment about him being hung like a horse. Now this guy was not tall but very "masculine", stocky, good facial hair, strong looking, he did have a ridiculously hairy back (shudder, once again I ignored ALL the warning signs!) hence the shirt on during sex (and he NEVER walked around naked! that is like the BEST thing about being intimate with someone! getting to walk about naked! I love that! I am rarely dressed at home anyway..... except for my ugg boots, but anyway)
Now, here is the reveal, and I can tell you know what it is......... this man with all these signs of uber manliness had without a doubt the smallest penis I have ever ever ever seen; ever.......
It was possibly four inches when fully hard, maybe, and he was one of those guys who always went soft (actually the only one I ever had but my friends have told me the sad tale) so not only was it incredibly small it was next to useless have the time anyway........
This I was going to come crawling back for???????????
This can barely last five minutes even with an 'easy rub out' prior to the main event?
I have been very very lucky in my sexual encounters (yes I will admit there have been many, I like sex but not relationships, work it out for yourself) and I have only had two small penises, his was one and his was the smallest.......... you would think a guy with so little to offer would make sure his other skills were up to scratch but alas no..... another great quote from him "I cant go down on you too long, my jaw gets tired" WHAT WAS I THINKING????
As I am sure I have said previously, I disagree with the oft used comment "Sex is like pizza, even when its bad its good" er, so so so no! Especially in this case!
I expect alot from my partners, as I like to give alot, and I have had some awesome awesome sex in my time, just recently I partook of a marathon six hour session that involved every room in the house, a mercy dash to get more condoms and lube, some awesomely placed piercings (oh my THAT was good), ended with us in the back yard on a swing as the sun came up and took us two days to recover from.......... That is what I expect sex to be! I like sex! Mr No strings did not provide sex, I cant even label what he provided it was so bad (and small).
I wanted a 400 gram toblerone bar and what I got was one of those home brand chocolate frogs that was snapped in half and had that icky white stuff on it.........
So I now have a rule, if I go the shag and its not GREAT first time out, I dont go back......... am I a mean and cruel bitch? I like to think so......
and as an interesting aside, another one of my 'daliances' prior to our get togetehr, told me how hung he was, he even used the term "baby holding an apple"...... well it must have been a very very premature baby holding the worlds tiniest apple.... GUYS WE ARE NOT SILLY, JUST CAUSE YOU SAY ITS BIG DOES NOT MEAN WE WILL THINK IT IS WHEN WE SEE IT! This guy was average, but cause he talked it up so much I expected alot, and well, oh dear. Now I didnt sleep with him, I had taken a vow of celibacy, no penetration, and as I said to a friend after (who happens to have one of the HUGEST I have ever seen, I am talking MASSIVE, and yes, it is another male friend I have shagged, so what) I was not going to blow my vow of celibacy on somwthing that would barely touch the sides!!!
Now I am sure many of you will think this is awful of me to write, but I am sorry I look upon it this way.... for so long we women ahve had to deal with the utter objectification by men, if we dont measure Cleo or Cosmoplitanesque models of female beauty we are labelled bags, moles, thighs too big, ass to big, boobs not big enough... this is my chance to say guess what, you guys dont always deliver the goods, and as another friend of mine and I laughed about the other day, a vagina is a vagina, but a penis is not just a penis! Oh dear no! And you know what, to repeat a former blog, size does matter, its the meat AND the motion, bigger is always better and I am yet to meet a girl who doesnt love a good solid cock!
You can keep your home brand chocolate frog with its white icky stuff, I am going my 400 gram toblerone.......
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
2+2=5.........
I am currently thinking way too deeply about the emotional attachments we form with people, about the feelings that so often spill uncontroblly from us; follow no rhyme, no reason and generally lead to mass confusion.
A dear, close and wonderful friend is leaving my fair city to return home, and I will not see them for a very long time; we will never live in the same country again. At the 'going away' bash there was an eclectic and varied bunch of individuals, and the cliches and differences between each distinct group was starkly obvious. Groups of people so vastly diverse, the only commonality being the same friend. I have experienced this myself, with groups of friends who should never be in the same room! It always makes me wonder how someone can be friends with people, who can be loved by people, who inherantly are so different. It strikes me as an interesting component of the human condition that we can draw people into our lives who, while we love them individually, and they us, they have nothing in common with others we love. It challenges the theory that we draw likeminded people to us.
Human relationships have always fascinated me, as they do many of us. I know it is a cliched topic but its one I cant help but explore. How can someone i love dearly also love someone who I find an annoying, mincing, arrogant twat? And of course visa versa? Friendships are complex existential necessities that grow, change, endure or die with us. Some you can nurture and nourish and they end up nothing more than a blip on your radar, others can face distance, lack of contact, differences and yet still continue strong. There is nothing better than the friend you dont see except every two or three years, or more, and yet the minute you are together, all the time falls away and its like the coffee cups are still warm from the last visit.
In my case i have found many of the friendships that came my way, the ones that at the time i felt I would travel with me the rest of my life, have ended up memories, and more often than not memories filled with hurt, and lessons learned about what defines a real and enduring friendships opposed to something built on a foundation of lies and misconception. I have always tried to be honest in all my friendships, yet so often it seems honesty is the thing that others find so hard to give.
Maybe that is why so often such nondivergant groups of people can be linked by one common friend, because this one person has found the key, the ability, to be able to be open with each one of these individuals. Just because you have stuff in common with someone does not mean you will be able to be honest and open with them....
A dear, close and wonderful friend is leaving my fair city to return home, and I will not see them for a very long time; we will never live in the same country again. At the 'going away' bash there was an eclectic and varied bunch of individuals, and the cliches and differences between each distinct group was starkly obvious. Groups of people so vastly diverse, the only commonality being the same friend. I have experienced this myself, with groups of friends who should never be in the same room! It always makes me wonder how someone can be friends with people, who can be loved by people, who inherantly are so different. It strikes me as an interesting component of the human condition that we can draw people into our lives who, while we love them individually, and they us, they have nothing in common with others we love. It challenges the theory that we draw likeminded people to us.
Human relationships have always fascinated me, as they do many of us. I know it is a cliched topic but its one I cant help but explore. How can someone i love dearly also love someone who I find an annoying, mincing, arrogant twat? And of course visa versa? Friendships are complex existential necessities that grow, change, endure or die with us. Some you can nurture and nourish and they end up nothing more than a blip on your radar, others can face distance, lack of contact, differences and yet still continue strong. There is nothing better than the friend you dont see except every two or three years, or more, and yet the minute you are together, all the time falls away and its like the coffee cups are still warm from the last visit.
In my case i have found many of the friendships that came my way, the ones that at the time i felt I would travel with me the rest of my life, have ended up memories, and more often than not memories filled with hurt, and lessons learned about what defines a real and enduring friendships opposed to something built on a foundation of lies and misconception. I have always tried to be honest in all my friendships, yet so often it seems honesty is the thing that others find so hard to give.
Maybe that is why so often such nondivergant groups of people can be linked by one common friend, because this one person has found the key, the ability, to be able to be open with each one of these individuals. Just because you have stuff in common with someone does not mean you will be able to be honest and open with them....
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