Dear Body

From Body Impolitic I got this link and I've done this before but this time I want to join in the group effort from BlogHer.

Dear Body,
How you doin? I'm kidding I know I know. You're pissed right now I know. I fed you way too much dairy and you retaliate with serious gastric distress. I already said I was sorry about that, but come on you can't fling cravings like that and not expect to be given what you're hollering for.

Also what is going on with the rampant insomnia? I know how much you hate to be drugged into submission but really can't we all get along and/or work together here? Three broken hours of sleep a night do not a sane functioning Shannon make. I don't know what I did to piss you off so much but I'm sorry. No really I'm really really sorry.

The Milk Incident aside, I am SO proud of you bowels. I really am, normal non traumatic pooping more than twice in the same week? Look at YOU GO. No speed guts, no weird painful gas, no sitting in the bathroom for a half an hour. You are being so fabulous. I'd put glitter on you if I could.

Venturing to other areas uterus I am talking to you right now. What the blue fuck is wrong with you lately? What is with the Periods of the Apocalypse? You don't have to demonstrate your might and power to me by passing things that make the entire area uncomfortable. Really. Also really if you're bleeding like I dunno you're doing a solo slasher movie could you ease up on the cramps? You really don't have to do both at once it's not a requisite thing. Also stop giving my attempts at Midol related relief the finger. It's just rude.

Oh right before I move anywhere else hair. My hair my hair, my crowning glory, my fantastic fluff. You have your own journal. I just want to commend you for not falling out during any of my experiments in hair care. You feel strong thick and silky, you are growing like gangbusters and I love you. I know it's been what fifteen years since I've said that and meant it? I do really -really- love you. For the first time in my adult life I know how to care for and love you. I promise I will not subject you to bleaching, atomic red (even though admit it baby, we were great together with that) and I promise I won't have a snit and shave you all off. Fluff on baby, fluff on.

Boobies, my darling magnificent D Cups of MotherFucking Doom. Ladies, play nice. I know you're all excited for Spring and some exposure but really, keep it down to a dull roar in there. Also, this going up a quarter cup size pre-period. Quit it, you get attention too. So stop.

Skin. I love your color. Brown and just a hair lighter than fine milk chocolate. You are edible looking and delicious. And I'm very sorry I haven't been taking as good care of you as I should be. I promise I am working on that. You will be anointed and creamed up so that come Spring and whatnot you will be silky and glowing. We both know one of the absolute perks of having brown skin is that glow and baby, you are going to have it. Enough of it I might just break out that glimmer powder shit you like so much. I have plans for you, and they involve lengthy stroking with hands lubed up with all sorts of yummy smelling buttery goodness baby.

Belly. Here we are. In our 30 years together we've been through a lot haven't we? Remember that shit about me wanting you to be all Janet Jackson-fied? Remember I wanted you to look like this? And you said bitch please? I'm sorry about that. I know (really know) that you and Miss Jackson's Abs of Might are two entirely separate entities and never the twain shall meet. I know I haven't been nice to you lately. I've been avoiding you because you are different and I didn't know how to deal with that. I'm sorry about that. Let's be friends okay? Also I know this may be a controversial thing to say but, you know what baby? I want to get you tattooed. I'm not sure with what but, I want to decorate you with something beautiful. You think? I think. No fuck that I know. You need ink. Mmkay? But I promise never again with the multiple belly button rings. Those were irritating. Cute and all but annoying.

Ham. For those new here I call my thighs my ham and I am just realizing a great heretofore unknown love of my Ham. I Jam Out With my Ham out. (That phrase I blatantly stole from Technodyke from um....I don't recall where but she said it and I cleaved to that lil phrase. It's mine now but I share). Baby I love you. Yes you are big, yes you are probably out of proportion with the rest of my but and you always have been. But goddamn it man, you are sexy. You are strong and I love you. A few links in tribute to you. Because I know for a long time I focused my hate at you and I didn't need to.

Big Legged Woman by Jerry Lee Lewis.

And Poppa Chubby, baby he's singing to you.



All right now body, overall we are good. Aren't we? Granted some of the aches and pains make us all grouchy and not inclined to get along. But we're getting through it. Like Poppa Chubby there says, we go together like red beans and rice.

In the end after 30 years I will say goddamn it I am a fine fine piece of ass all the way around. For some reason I have the almost unresistable urge to get up and dance around like James Brown (R.I.P man.) Singing I'M BLACK AND I'M PROUD. Alternating my own lyric in there, I'M FINE AND I'M PROUD. I'M FAT AND I'M PROUD. Okay when people leave the office I am totally doing that.

Yes people, when people start leaving my workplace I am going to do some jamming out with my ham out. I am going to shake it a little at my desk. Why? Because I can and because it's fun and it feels good.

I will probably grab my own ass while I'm at it.

OH I don't want to forget my booty. The Brown Round. And I will admit I still absolutely covet the idea of having a big ole round booty. Because I quite frankly do not have a big ole round booty. I want ASS like BLAM. I want, video girl ass that is of such brown round fantastic proportions that I could shake each ass cheek independantly of one another and on beat. This is something I have a difficult time getting past the want of. I can and do bootyshake for my own amusement. I advocate booty shaking for EVERYONE. I don't care if you've got a wee tiny booty, a big wide flat booty, a BAM big ole booty whatever. Once in awhile shake that shit. Not because some dude thinks it's hot, but just because you can and it's fun.

So booty I am sorry I wish you were things you are not and will not ever be. I know it's not nice and I'm sorry. I am working on it. I promise I am. In lieu of the syncopated butt cheek jiggling that you are thus far incapable of let's do some of this (this video is from Maragret Cho's Sensuous Woman tour.) probably not at work but when we get home. Deal? Deal.

Oh and one more thing um, enough with the gas mmkay?

(Also Hunter is freaking hot just sayin)



And where can I get some panties with tassles like that? I lack booty flesh but HOT DAYUM I want those. I would never wear pants.

To end this, yes body we have our ups and downs but I love you. So there.

Love,
Your Resident Soul.

Homo Out.

Stumble It!

A tribute to a seducer.

For all of the insane strange sex I've had in my life, I've not been one to be easily seduced by many. I don't typically enjoy the game of seduction. At least not from scratch.

However, I have never shied away from playing the role myself. In fact I have more than once prided myself on my ability to play the game and get myself into the pants of someone.

Except for a boy let's call Blue. So called because htat was his favorite color and he wore something blue (other than his hair) every single day.

Blue and I met randomly in the UW Bookstore while each muttering while perusing some shelf or another. There was no instant tzzzt electrical connection between us. I thought he was attractive but at the time I wasn't really into the penis. But that didn't stop me from accepting his offer of coffee at the coffee shop where we could smoke and talk about books.

Now we all know I am an absolute sucker for the big brains, bonus points if said brains are presented in a charming funny way. He delivered.

We spent a very long afternoon and evening lolling in uncomfortable chairs, drinking coffee and smoking many cigarettes while we debated the merits of going out of your way to buy UK imprints of British authors (I am firmly PRO going out of your way), and he wound ihs way to flattery.

I may occasionally say that flattery will get you everywhere with me but it's seldom true. Yes you might get to touch a boob or see one but as for actually getting me naked or opening the door to naked probably not. However he was clever enough to sprinkle his flattery of my skin and lips, right in the tasty mix of glowering at me for my strong opinions on ugly over decorative typeface in books.

I was pretty well able to keep it in my pants at that point. We made arrangements to hang out after I got off of work a few days later. Instead of the U district we headed for one of my favorite (at the time) dives the Hurricane and drank more coffee and lolled in banquettes smoking and giving each other the eye.

This is where the serious seducing started. He draped himself in my lap in the booth, normally I don't exactly want to cuddle with strangers but I humoured him. He demanded to be stroked and petted, fed French Fries which made me laugh. But what did it ladies and gents was the habit he had of running his fingers up and down the inside of my forearm while we talked.

That doesn't work for everybody so don't get any funny ideas. Some people that would get punched in the neck but he was rewarded with a little more unspoken permission.

We saw each other a few times a week for about a month. He was very quick to notice when whatever sort of petting he was doing made me the slightest bit squirmy in the pants or as he put it, "turned my mouth" which to this day I have no idea what he meant.

That's when it became a game. A very drawn out game. he stroked my arm, I flicked his lower lip. He turned and kissed my neck, I tickled his ribs. I let him make me blush, he stole more kisses. For months that's all that happened and to tell the truth I was pretty happy with it. I'd not had that sort of playful almost but not quite sexual relationship with anyone in a long time and I enjoyed it.

After months of this, and then a period of us not being able to see each other the next time we got together he had a look. Some people no matter how smooth they are have a tension in their facial muscles when they have gotten to the point where lust and a slight bit of anger have fused together into absolute need.

For the first time I felt a rush of power in watching him. The tables weren't quite turned but, I felt the power of watching him be wanting and too much of a gentleman to be demanding. I discovered my love of the tease.

I love being a cock/cunt tease on occasion and I am very good at it.

With him, I played like I didn't notice. Even though we spent the better part of a Saturday afternoon half dressed in his bed, I played. I played until he held my face in his hands and kissed me with actual purpose.

There is a big difference between the playful not quite there yet kisses I like to call Puppy Kisses and someone kissing another person with the clear intention of making them tingly int he pants and then getting down in said pants. A huge difference.

Maybe that's what I'd been waiting for. Just to see if he'd get there or if we'd eventually part ways having never consummated a by then mutual simmering lust. Either way I think I would have been happy, however I was delighted.

To that point my still exploratory sex life I had been missing having any experience with a very determined and skilled male lover. I had experienced the determined groping of post adolescent boys who thought they had skills but nothing like Blue.

From that kiss onward for the first time I let him really seduce me. It was fantastic. We actually slept together on and off for months.

I was reminded of this because of a man I saw on the bus today. He had the same kind of posture and set to his mouth.

And I did say I'd be smutty.

Good times people.

I will admit I do miss being single and my exploratory romps with naked people. I also miss in a way being fairly ambivalent about whether or not I was actually getting laid at all.

That is to say I really miss having the time and privacy to masturbate for however long I felt like it. There is really something to be said for spending a whole day in bed playing with yourself.

On that note, I'm off to make tea and ogle boots.

My fondness for boots is becoming a fetish in the my girly pink bits get tingly when I see the right pair of boots. Tingly and moist.

I'm really thinking more and more I should start myself a boot fetish site. The thought has been in the back of my mind for ages. Why not merge things I enjoy, photography, boots, my own ass and the internet.

And I could possibly write off boot purchases which would make my cervix quiver with glee.

Ok now I'm really done.

Homo Out.

Tags: sexuality, self love, experience, sex

Stumble It!

From the sidelines.

Okay I have a post working up in my head about this whole dword thing and about Hanne Blank (hi *typed while blushing*) but today you know what? I am really not in the mood to talk about it because frankly the whole conversation depresses me.

Instead I want to talk about my body.

Specifically I want to talk about my ass and my boobs. Tits and ass, my own. I will try not to go all lesbotronic again and get sidetracked. It could happen though be forewarned.

First of all I am wearing some of my new Torrid clothes. The pinstriped shortpants. I still do not like the words capri pants so I say shortpants.




First of all these short pants are fairly tight and I wasn't sure I was comfortable with that. They outline my hamhocks like WHOA. Hamhocks here is slang for my thighs o oak. I was a little wibbly about it then said fuck it. Then I got the magical glimpse at my ass and said, hot DAYUM that is one hot ass.

No seriously I swear I did.

My butt(from here on out known as the Brown Round) is not the butt of my dreams sadly. I feel like I got a little cheated in the buttoxial area. I have a slightly round, smallish booty. I want BAM BOOTY. I want badonkadonk, I want junk in my trunk, a motor in the back of my Honda. Remember videos from the early 90's and Jlo back in the day when she was a Fly Girl? Those girls in the BBD video Poison (if you don't want to get up and do the running man while listening to that song there is something wrong with your ass region). I have always wanted that. I still longingly look at girls in videos and get sad. I want BIG BOOTY. Seriously. The kind that if I were still a stripper I could make it clap. I'm not joking. If you don't know what a booty clap is you may not want to ask because I'll show you.

Now back to my Brown Round. These pants make my more cupcake shaped booty look hawt. Generally when I am ogled it's the boobs but I caught someone lookin at my butt and YEAH. And one of my favorite ladies I see most every day said my ass looks hot.

Ok wait have to stand up and bootyshake at my desk. That Naughty By Nature song Hip Hop Hooray is on and I like that song.

I got SO sidetracked you don't even know. There is something to love about working somewhere, where you can dance at your desk for a few minutes and people will join you. And tell you that your pinstriped pants are kick ass.

Now where was I? Right-o my ass.

So when I started this entry I was still feeling sort of meh entirely. I didn't sleep well last night, my knees hurt so I couldn't wear my very sexy wedge platform sandals with my sexy shortpants, but I am feeling far sassier now. Saucy in fact.

It also helps that I totally just scored an Urban Decay glitterliner for 10 bucks shipped. I got it in Spandex which the site says is, "black, accented w/ rainbow glitter".

If you're new here or just surfed in from the Fatosphere I am a complete make up and clothes whore. No seriously. I love make up like drag queens like padded bras. I love all things related to make up. I own and wear a ton of make up. It makes me squee.

I am also highly thrifty so anytime I get kick ass products at kickass prices I get SUPER excited.

Now let's talk about my boobs. Honestly, no matter what weight I am at my boobs are my favorite physical characteristic. Even when I call them unruly bitches, or when they are fighting to get out of my shirt I still love em.

My D Cups of Doom baby.

They make me happy.

Matter of fact I just dabbed a little BPAL perfume in them. Today I am wearing Tushnamatay. I am now addicted to BPAL and I have all my imps in a special little box.

I think I'm over this right now. I am going to finish my snack and probably cruise the intertubes for more glamours things for low prices.

No WAIT one more thing I am very excited about. I bought a surprise grab bag of clothes from GoodGoth.com I will report back when I get it.

Homo Out.

Stumble It!

Things that bother me.

So I was wandering the blogosphere yet again and came upon the blog of some lady who's had WLS and spent a little time reading through some of her thoughts.

If I had known her personally pre and post surgery I don't think I would want to be her friend and that makes me sad.

I've known quite a few people who have lost astounding amounts of weight and it didn't turn them into fat hating assholes.

Why does newfound privilege as a non fat person make so many people unpleasant?

It makes me sad. Gaining self love, better health and a better body image doesn't mean you get to be a dick with impunity.

I guess that's all I actually wanted to say. It's bedtime now.

Be decent to each other.

Homo Out.

Stumble It!

Blogosphere wanderings.

Been wandering random blogs today. I found some good ones.

The Thinking Blog. This one is interesting watch the multiplying large numbers video. Granted math isn't my strong suit but that was cool.

Also go read A Celebration of Curves. Enjoyable and smart. DO IT.

I've also been musing (as ever) about beauty.

My sense of what beauty is on a personal level has been in some bit of tumult recently. Not so much an issue with my self esteem (though yes, that does waver) but more akin to whether or not I stick to what please me or should I "grow up".

My personal aesthetic has (unfortunately? fortunately? who cares?) not changed in a long damn time. I know what I like and what makes me feel like a thing of beauty.

That said, I wonder sometimes if I am stuck (for good or ill) in this for reasons I can't quite get my head around. Or am I just still the same black nail polish wearing jangling clothes loving weirdo?

I'm really very seriously leaning towards the latter.

I say this because most of (hate that I put it this way) mainstream when it comes to beauty and fashion just doesn't do it for me.

Clothes, make up, other surface things are costume to me. It makes me feel good in my warm insides to present myself to the world in a way that (to some) is just weird. And yes that's okay.

I think that last bit is what makes me want to cease questioning myself about this. I think I need to focus less on trying to, for lack of a better term tone myself down rather I should find arenas where I can be as weird as I wanna be.

Hard thing to do.

I know that I'm happier and more loving towards myself when I let go of the idea of what I'm "supposed" to do/be. My fabulous ass was not meant to fit in a box no matter what shape said box is in. I know that when I treat myself nicely, and take care of myself I feel like I am in love with myself again and in turn I love the world a little more.

I know intellectually that my whole "I GOTTA BE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" spiel can get tiresome but, I do mean it. And thankfully I've grown out of the "I'M TEH SPECIAL AND BYOOTIFUL SNOWFLAKE" attitude to realize that while yes, some things about me are indeed unique I am in fact a conforming non-conformist to a degree and I am ok with that.

I have also grown out of feeling like I have to apologize for my love of girly things. I do not believe that me waxing my eyebrows, not shaving my pubes, painting my nails, wearing lipstick etc makes me any less or more a feminist. That school of thought is not for me and I am okay with that. Now. There was a time I wasn't okay with that and I tried very hard to change but, no. It's unnecessary and silly.

So far in my 30th year of life I have relearned some things that I lost sometime between my teens and twenties. I have also decided the following for the record:

• I have a fantastic rack. I admire it daily. My boobs are a wonder.
  
• My pubes are not the business of anyone. Theoretically, academically or politically.
• Politics+my pussy=anger. Keep yours away from mine and everything will be fine.
• I'm odd and that too, is ok.
• Not everyone thinks I am fabulous. That's ok.

I think that's about all for right now.

Actually no I lie.

I'd like to give you my dream of a few scenerios.

We all remember they Tyra Banks is Fat. Nonsense.

Instead of tears and "why you call me faaaat" type of response here's what I would've liked to have seen.

Imagine this, if you will:

Ms. Banks in her favorite jammies with whatever she likes to snack on in her lap.

Interviewer watching her munch with that look of faux concern mixed with glee.

Interviewer: So Tyra, you've gained some weight? Are you okay? Do you need an intervention to curb your addiction to tasty treats?

Tyra: (Eye roll, because come on have you seen her eye roll it's fantastic) Yes, yes and no.

Interviewer: *blink...blink...getting teary now*We're all so worried about you, what will happen if you get...well you know.

Tyra: Bitch you like cookies too. You look kinda hungry you want a cookie? Here have a cookie low blood sugar makes you an asshole.

End with Tyra and her interviewer happily having snacks and discussing booty jiggle.

That's what I wanted to see.

That and I think I have found my calling. I need to be a Celebrity Truth Sayer.

Yes you read that right. I will let celebrities especially ones who tend to say/do stupid things in public pay me to tell them to shut the hell up. Or put on some panties. Put on a real shirt. Wear a better wig.

I won't charge a lot and i will mentor them.

I will be the person to say,

"Brit Brit, honey no. Put on a shirt, and lets go buy you a good wig okay?"

"Paris? SHUT UP. Put on some panties and shhh...no really shhh. Stop."

"(insert other celeb here) Psssst...cameltoe...CAMELTOE pull it out."

"Nipples, hey put something over those before someone loses an eye."


You get my point.

I would teach them not to say things they know goddamn well are stupid.

Also as a note I love that Tyra felt up Rosie O. I think Tyra is obsessed with boobies and she may examine mine anytime she likes. As long as I get to touch her butt. Reciprocation is key people.

Okay now I'm really done. I'm tired and it's almost time to go home.

Stumble It!