body – Page 3

So, I think I encountered a sadist in a real-world situation. It was interesting.

I got a wax today. It’s all gone and I literally cannot stop looking at it and touching it. Because I’m far too easy to please. And it’s so damn smooth.

Usually, I keep to a routine of every six weeks, but my recent two months abroad threw it off. For those of you who don’t know, if you don’t wax for a while, the hair comes in thick and it hurts much more than usual to have it waxed.

I’ve had a sneaking suspicion for a while now that my esthetician had a sadistic streak. Not for the stereotypical “oh she rips off waxy paper from my vagina” reason. But more for her demeanor while she carries it out and the little comments she makes. This theory may have been confirmed today after the following exchange:

Her: I’m pacing myself. I’m trying not to torture you.

Me: Thanks.

Her: Because, you know, if I wanted to torture you, I’d just use a bigger strip and pull slowly.

And then there was this happy little distant smile that was gone as soon as it came.

“I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself.” D.H. Lawrence, Self Pity.

curiousproclivities:

But my other side is marked with “SAINT.” Darkness & light coexist in all of us.

Last night, my friend threw a meet and greet for all of her queer ladies. It wasn’t nearly as scandalous as it sounds. But, yeah, there was a little bit of scandal.

It was a “dry” get-together and we were all just hanging around, getting to know each other, catching up with old friends, griping about finals, and passing around a bag of chips. And then they came in. Fresh from a workout together. Fresh from the showers. Just fresh.

I have a weakness for women with athletic bodies. But black women with athletic bodies? Oh, heavens me. And a whole group of them from one team. Laughing, smiling, joking. There were four of them. Three of which took on the more “butch” side of the spectrum and the fourth more “femme”. I really hate using those terms. But substitute in whatever you want there that makes you happy.

I got into talking with one of the members of the former group. She was incredibly chill, interesting, kind of flirty. She had changed from her workout clothing and was in a loose pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a flannel, and a baseball cap turned backwards. So many Ivy buttons, some that I didn’t even think existed, were being pushed.

But that big ol’ red button got slammed down when someone said they couldn’t get the packaging off of a board game across the room. Without hesitation, she reached into her pocket, whipped out a pocket knife, and flicked it open. It was larger than your average bear pocket knife.

I stared, practically hypnotized. She followed the line of my sight. And smirked.

To be continued.

(Also, do you know how hard it was to find a remotely not-white picture of a female athletic body? Jeez, tumblr.)