As I relaxed in the bath today, I realized there isn't really anything women should be worried about when it comes to indecent exposure. What is it that we fear when it comes to nudity? Is it that we don't want to see what size we are? That's how it is with guys, it seems. How they size up to another man. Well, women can't use that excuse. Sure, women's breasts are all different, but how we dress today, the size is out in the public eye already. We don't wear corsets anymore to make us look flat. Generally, women just put on a plain bra to lift up the breasts, not to enhance them. And when it comes to vulva and vagina, from the view a person would be normally getting, women are built the same. Nothing really is sticking out. It's not until we bend over, or until a lover pulls our legs apart that anything is seen that varies woman to woman. It's silly. Women shouldn't be so insecure about their bodies!
It sure would be nice if men admired older women more than younger ones when it comes to looks. Pussy is still the same whether a woman is 20 or 75 unless she's had a couple children, and even then, if she has had a couple, it still does its purpose when it comes to men.
And leg hair, dammit! I can see why a man might like a shaved pussy, but legs ... leave them alone! It's not like when legs are entwined together, that you can feel whether or not our legs are shaved. Yours are too hairy to distinguish the difference.
*sigh* I'm sorry, this wasn't supposed to become a rant. But it all sort of came out. So, in conclusion: women shouldn't be insecure as they are when it comes to nudity, pussy is still the same no matter how old you are, and legs should not be required to be shaved. Yeah. *sigh*
Her fingers run smoothly across the keyboard, dappling strokes. She wishes it were not cold plastic, but instead, his warm, sweet skin. The clock ticks upon the wall. Not too much longer. She moves her head to look forward again. Her hair brushes her bare shoulder. She wishes his hands were there. She looks at the screen, wishing it were his face. Tony walks past. He is wearing too much cologne. She gets a flash of the aftershave sitting on the shelf at home. Cautiously she unfolds her legs. Only two more hours. She bites her bottom lip; the taste of vanilla floods her mouth. Anticipation wavers. Time is a killer. He says she is a goddess. Immortality is a virtue she shares.
I was reading my Marion Times this morning when I ran across an obituary for a couple. Curious, I read it. They were 88 and 90, each died naturally two days apart. That really struck my heart. Lately I've been thinking about how you are actually quite a bit older than me, and that does make a difference in the end. If we were to go on the average, that would mean 15 years without you, for me. 15 years. That is a lot of time. Think how the past five months have been so long for us. 15 years. Wow.
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They gave me other results for me as well: stir-fry, Germany, sculpture, Australia, mythology, painting, creating things, art, drama, veggie burgers, sales, designing things, theatre, books, smart people ... they're all me. So wonderful. lol
I guess I'll have to live with that. And it's not as if it's a whole month, less than three weeks or so. And we'll have a larger room. That's nice. More room to play. And it's more true to the "one year" promise. I'm only afraid about my job. I have to have a job. Will I still be able to have one if I come in June? That's not very long to work, if I do get it. Less than three months. June just seems so far away. May was still spring, but June is summer. But I'll live. I have to live long enough to hold your smiling face in my hands.