It’s where I belong. I’m home. And I don’t even need to click my heels together.
panties
My body is honest.
I went for that massage today from the guy I went to high school with. He left the room when I undressed and got under two white sheets on his massage table. When he got back, there was a lot of chuckling and shifting as he tried to make my position just so without exposing me. I was, at first, relaxed. But, when he started, I began to get anxious.
I’m never totally sure of my level of comfort with my body. Sometimes, I’m willing to show it all, run around naked, the whole nine yards. Others, I just sit there picking the poor thing apart and deeming it unworthy of public consumption.
So, today, I started to apologize for it. For the little bit of peach fuzz on the back of my thighs, for the callouses on the bottoms of my feet from two months in the third world, for this kink and that crack. And, while he assured me that my body was perfectly acceptable and fit and that he had massaged people weighing over 250 pounds so I was just fine, I just could not help but feel reluctant about sharing my body like this in the first place.
But my body had no reluctance about me. He repeated back to me the things that it was telling him. That I liked to run. That I kept my stress between my shoulder-blades. That I sometimes got lazy and didn’t stretch after exercise. It was unapologetic, uncensored. It told the good and the bad, sang praises of me despite all the times I had put it down. He was just the messenger. My body was talking to me. And it was being so terribly, beautifully honest.
At one point, I was on my stomach and he pulled my leg back. He was surprised to see when my heel touched the back of my head. It was as if my body were saying, “now look what I can do.” And when he had to push the muscles around my shoulder-blade around for how tense I’d allowed them to get, it was as if my body were urging, “now look what you can do.”
My body is honest. It’s been trying to talk to me. I’ve been too busy to hear it, but I think it’s about time that I start listening.
And maybe being honest with it, too.
I need to get a muse. Or be a muse. I have all this creative energy lately and I just can’t seem to find an outlet.
Hey Ivy,
You may like this.
(submission from montecervesa).
—
You may be very right. From this angle, she looks like a lot of fun.
I own panties that look just like these.
Same color, same style, same scalloping.
Now, whenever I wear them, I’m going to be thinking of the content of this picture. Especially that hand and the intention behind it.
Oh, tumblr, you just ruin everything.
They both know that little egg isn’t strong enough to get her off. But, he’s not going to fetch anything that could help. Especially with how precious she gets when she pouts.
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.
By George, Heart, it worked!
I’m home safe and sound, tumblr. I basically slept through both of my flights, so I don’t really have anything vaguely entertaining to tell you except that now I can’t fall asleep since I spent most of my day that way. Oh boy.
But, thank you for all the support and love I got over these two months I’ve been gone. I got a little over 150 new followers during the time, which might just be an indication that absence makes the heart grow fonder (or that I should go away more often).
<3,
Ivy
Dear Ivy,
If I post pictures of pirate style knife play will you come back?
With love,
-Heart
I’m currently skyping with Dacry and her Prince Charming. I’m sure I’ll get in trouble for saying her bark is much worse than her bite, and she’s totally sweet and absolutely adorable, but I’m willing to risk it.