I will be back soon. When I return, more than enough details to satiate your hunger. Be well, my friends…be well.

Email this post

(continued from here- Loving The Skin We’re In)

Loving ourselves is a huge part of our sexuality, a huge part of how we represent ourselves and express ourselves sexually. Self-perception often keeps us from being the lovers we want to be. This is the article to aid us in our endeavor.

Know yourself-
I know, it’s easier said than done. Start with the small things, like how you prefer to be kissed, or how you like your eggs. Look closely at the choices you make and determine why you made them. Though it will seem a little redundant at first, as time goes by you’ll understand. You’ll know yourself better than you ever thought possible.

Know your body-
If you’ve never done it, grab a mirror and examine yourself and your genitalia. Ask your partner to perhaps photograph or make a video of your body and view them. Discover those freckles on your shoulders, that birthmark you were never aware of, or see just how fabulous your bottom really is. Take time to masturbate. Experiment with toys and lotions to see what feels the best to you, what excites you or turns you off. Share the new bits of knowledge with your lover and be prepared to reap the benefits.

Know your limits-
Especially if you’re involved in an alternative lifestyle relationship, but even if you’re not, know your limits. Make sure you’re aware of what is okay and what isn’t. Be honest with yourself about which activities make you uncomfortable and which ones you want to explore. This is especially important for people who have been raped or abused because going beyond what is comfortable and safe could potentially undo healing. Empower yourself and your relationship by speaking up and honestly saying how you feel about things that you have done or discussed.

Know your partner-
Granted there is something about sex with a stranger that draws everyone in from time to time. It’s new and exciting, and as long as you practice safe sex there are few risks, but what about the rest? There is a different yet equally satisfying high that comes from knowing your lover. Knowing what foods they like to eat and what kind of chocolate they prefer is fine, but what about how they like to be touched? What about knowing the things that make their hearts pound and their pulse race, what makes them smile? Knowing another human being intimately as well as sexually will help you to feel better about who you are, about the kind of lover you are or wish to be.

Know your expectations-
If you’re exercising or changing your diet, you expect to lose weight. What happens if you’re trying to love yourself more? Do you know what to expect or know what you hope to gain from it? If you’re hoping to improve your sexual relationship with your partner, involve them in the process. Communication will help the process along as well as keep you on track. They can provide feedback that can shape your journey of self-love and acceptance.

Keep a journal-
A journal provides a place to keep a private record of your journey. With each new experience and each new day you can see where you’ve been. It can help keep you on track when you have days when you think you’ve lost your way. Use your journal as a place to pose questions to yourself then fill in the answers. If you find a magazine article that inspires you, put it in your journal. If a flower makes your day, press it in the pages of your journal as a reminder that there have been wonderfully easy days on your journey of self-love and discovery.

This is an amazing time in your life! There will be days when you feel as though you can’t possibly try a new sexual position because you worry about what your lover might think of your wobbly bits. Tell your partner and allow them to hold you and soothe your fears, then try it anyway. There may even be days when you have a hard time finding one thing about yourself that you genuinely love. On those hard days, ask your partner. Be specific and ask them what they feel your best features are or what your strengths are. Write them down in your journal to pull out on the next hard day.

Loving ourselves isn’t about vanity or being conceited. It’s about being the best people we can be. It’s about looking in the mirror and acknowledging that we’re worthy of the love we receive every day from others. It’s about loving ourselves, inside and out, with our lumps and bumps or with our porcelain complexions and magnificent legs, maybe even with our dampened spirits and broken hearts.

People say we have to love ourselves to truly love others. If we don’t love ourselves, how can we expect anyone else to love us? All the tired cliches that people toss out, all the lines we feel we need to believe or buy into. Don’t get caught up in what you think you’re supposed to do. Don’t focus on what society tells you to think or feel, to look like or act like.
This is about you. This is about being the best you can be for yourself. This is really about loving the skin you’re in.

Email this post

I am so sick of being silent. Sick to death of putting up with this kind of harassment and verbal abuse. So, I thought I would share it here, in this place that is my very own, with people who know exactly what new wives of former spouses and former spouses themselves can do to make our lives a living hell. (All spelling and grammatical errors are theirs, not mine. Only names have been changed.)

Original Email Sent By Me:
Apparently, *****, you are under some illusion that you factor into any of this in any way. Allow me to clarify for you that you absolutely do not. Unlike you, I was in the courtroom and I heard EXACTLY what the judge said and I am acting accordingly. So mind your place and your own business. You are not their parent, therefore, none of this concerns you.

Email Response 1- Apparently ******** you ARE dellusional. I DO indeed factor in. and do NOT call MY husband at work again. P.S. all the while you ARENT parenting these girls. I AM!!!! and gladly and proudly do so, not to pick up the pieces you leave behind but for the girls!!!! Get over yourself. Get on with what you may be able to salvage with these girls and get off my back about telling you EXACTLY what you can and cannot do in regards to MY husband who is right at this moment standing by ME the one REAL WIFE he’s had. TA TA!!

Email Response 2- LOL, you too wrapped up in in other things you can’t type at least something original. Its funny, I’m under an illusion but you had to get information regarding the girls clothing sizes from ….hmmm…..oh yeah ME. Maybe you should wash a load of their laundry when they’re with you and check into it instead of leaving the simple parenting up to everyone else.

Email Response 3- Hi again!!! From the land of you wish I was under some illusion!! Do not, and I repeat DO NOT call my husband again!!! because YOU’RE truly dellusional if you think he’ll speak to you see unlike YOU did him, he does right by me and I him and we come first before EX SPOUSES..so go play phone tag with the Knight, or is it The Man, I can’t remember either way play with your master…..aside from the known facts S*******, or should that be s******* since you ARE sub…I dunno how that works……oh and *my mothers name* in case you DO read this because it’s oh such a scathing review, you have no need to call my husband either as until S*******, you do get that I FACTOR in heavily, you *my mothers name* do not either.

Email this post

When you look in the mirror, what do you see? Look closely. Examine yourself from every angle. Are you happy with the reflection staring back at you?

Millions of people hate their bodies. Millions more have a self-image problem that goes beyond simply hating the shape of their nose or the shape of their feet. They’re so at odds with their bodies that they seek the services of a plastic surgeon or suffer from anorexia and bulimia.

There are children who diet at the age of 7 because they’ve been told by their peers that they weigh too much. There are teenagers who ask for nose jobs and breast implants to make sure they get on the cheer leading squad. As crazy as it sounds, cars are no longer the most asked for high school graduation gift. That honor now goes to plastic surgery.

I think it’s normal for girls to worry about their bodies. They wonder if they’re too small or too big, if their breasts are tiny or even too large. It’s part of growing up and becoming a woman. For boys, it’s about the size of their muscles and their stature. They don’t want to be long and lanky. It’s a guy thing.

What about us though? The over thirty crowd that stares in the mirror day in and day out. Why are we so concerned about our fleshy thighs or the size of our bottoms? After all, we’re not trying to fit in. We no longer have to worry about making the cheerleading squad or being asked to prom.

My personal story is one that’s all too common I’m afraid. Abused as a child, I tried every defense mechanism I could think of. I believed if I was fat that the abuse would stop. So I ate myself into oblivion. I’d eat until I threw up, then I would start all over again. The abuse didn’t stop. No matter how much I tried to change my body or the situation. No matter how many snack cakes I ate or how many sodas I would sneak into my bedroom at night. It wasn’t about my looks, it was about power, but as a child, I didn’t understand that.

Now, fast forward eighteen years and two children later.

At the age of thirty, I have very few wrinkles. My hair is starting to turn grey, but not enough to notice it. Most women would love to be in my position- except for my weight. At two-hundred and fifty pounds I’m overweight. All the years I spent as a child trying to be fat, trying to protect myself, have finally caught up with me.

Before I met my husband, I was okay with myself. I dated and had friends, both large and small. The men I dated would comment on my curves and tell me how much they loved the way I looked. It was good for my ego because these men were far from ugly, far from sheltered, and they knew what they liked.

I started to dress to accentuate my ample assets instead of hiding them. I would show off my curves, my contours, and not think twice about it. The size of my breasts were perfect, the size of my backside was just right. Life was full of opportunities for the plus-sized woman. I was proud of who I was, of the womanly curves that I reveled in.

Then I met him. Tall and lean, with well muscled arms and toned legs. If I wasn’t head over heels in love with him before we met, I was the second he got out of his car and hugged me. Then it was gone. The small moments of self love vanished into thin air.

I went back to my former wardrobe of clothes that hid my figure flaws. I balked at sleeping naked or showering with him because I was too exposed. I didn’t dare initiate sex, much less ask to “ride” him. The change in me didn’t go unnoticed by my friends, my family, or myself.

It struck me as odd that I had found someone who truly loved me for who I was, but I was more insecure than ever about my body. Wasn’t it supposed to be just the opposite? When you found love, didn’t all those fears and insecurities magically disappear? Not so, my friends. Not so.

The more time I spent thinking about it and discussing it with my friends who were settling down, the more sense it made. When we were single, we only had ourselves to think of. As long as we liked ourselves, everyone else be damned. We had the power. The power to choose our dates, to choose our clothes, to be true to ourselves and ourselves only.

Once we became part of a couple, we had someone else to think of. We suddenly cared what the man in our life thought of a certain hairstyle or outfit. We cared if they wouldn’t make love with us in the missionary position because of our soft and plush tummies. In an instant our self worth was wrapped up in how our lovers perceived us.

That’s all fine and good, to a point. Then you realize that it’s not just their opinions that influence you. If that were the case, the whispered words of adoration for your ample butt or your muscular calves would have been enough to stop the negative self-image. Suddenly it comes to light that there was less self love before than you originally thought.

So how do we get past it? What does it truly take to love the skin we’re in? Unfortunately, there are no easy answers. It’s not what we want to hear. It’s not a solution that comes in pill form, or happens overnight.

It’s about more than a diet. So get that thought out of your head. A diet and an exercise regimen won’t fix this. Sure, it would help us lose weight, but it’s not the weight that’s at the heart of the matter. We don’t need a weight loss plan. We need a plan that helps us love ourselves, a plan that leads us to loving the skin we’re in.

Email this post

I remember everything. Everything that my heart deems important enough to remember at least. Like the night we met, the way my heart pounded when we kissed, the realization that I loved him. The memories are wrapped in details from all five of my senses. The scent of his skin, the taste of his mouth, the sound of his breath as I pulled him close, the feel of him as he buried himself inside of me.

Not long after I moved in he arranged for a night alone, just the two of us. We showered together and went to our room. The candles we’d purchased together from Ikea warmed the room and cast the perfect light across the walls and high ceilings. He poured us a glass of wine to share, sweet homemade wine from someone his father knew.

I admit impatience. He sipped his wine and pressed play on my laptop. A haunting sound filled the room and for the briefest moment I felt like a fly caught in the spiders web. My heart raced and the moisture between my thighs was already evident though he had yet to touch me.

The silky softness of my robe caressed my nipples as it fell open. My breasts were exposed to his gaze and it crossed my mind to cover up but the look in his eyes stopped me short. I watched him take the razor blade from the package and sanitize it. Never in my life had I been so frightened, so certain that the pain would be more than I could handle.

He whispered something I couldn’t understand and held the razor blade to his arm. I saw the slightest trickle of blood and heard his sharp intake of breath. He touched his tongue to his arm then took a sip of wine. As he turned toward me, our eyes met and held. He held his arm before my mouth and I accepted it readily. The metallic taste of his life source filled my mouth and I knew then and there that nothing would ever be as erotic as tasting his blood.

With slow and steady movements he climbed onto the bed beside me. He was on his knees, looking for all the world like the god he was in my mind. I closed my eyes and sighed as the tips of his fingers pushed my robe off my shoulder. I’m sure he spoke to me but I was too far gone to make sense of it. He moved my hair and touched the top of my breast just over my heart. I nodded with certainty.

The pain shot through me as he barely sliced through my skin with the razor blade. White hot pain that sent me spinning headlong into something I’d never felt before. In the distance I heard him asking if I was alright and I felt myself nod. I leaned back against the pillows piled high behind my back and gave in to the moment.

As his mouth closed over the place he’d cut I began to climax ever so gently. I opened my eyes and wrapped my fingers in his hair, anxious to keep him there a little longer. He lingered briefly then pulled from me. His mouth captured mine and the tastes mingled on my tongue.

In an instant he was inside of me. His cock was harder than I ever thought it could be and I knew I’d never been so wet in my life. Slowly he made love to me, barely moving, staying as deep in me as he could. It seemed forever that we stayed that way, locked in the most intimate of all embraces. Moments later I felt his cock spasm and fill me with his essence.

I remember everything. Even if I didn’t remember that night, I need look no further than my left breast where the scar has faded slightly but still serves as the reminder that today I so badly need. When the last breath is about to leave my body, I’ll move his hand to cover the scar on my breast and I’ll remind him to not forget. I’ll remind him that no matter what, I remember.

Email this post

Before anyone in cyberia knew me, before I became The Butterfly Temptress, I was something. I was someone special to more than one or two people. Before you knew me, I touched lives and I was in love with my job.

I worked as a nurse for about three years before I met The Knight and only a year after. During the time I was a nurse, I helped save lives. I knew my way around an emergency room and I could look at a patient and know what they needed. I was proud of who I was, proud of my abilities. I was more proud of the fact that my patients liked me.

The last thing I did as a nurse before I met The Knight was to care for children who would probably never live to see their next birthdays. I woke them up every day and helped them with their ROM exercises. I rocked them to sleep every night. When no one else would even step foot inside their houses, there I was with my bag full of tricks and my heart full of love and hope to at least try to comfort them for one more day.

Sometimes I never saw any improvement in them. Sometimes they passed away and I would mourn them, crying as if they were my own family. Other times they would get better. They would change and grow and I’d be convinced that they would grow to be more than anyone else ever gave them credit for. I’d work with them and care for them, singing to them all the while about dreams coming true and answered prayers. I believed in what I was doing, even if no one else did.

Before you knew me, I was a dreamer. A writer of fairy tales and sappy romance novels that always had a happy ending. I would fix my friends up and look for their future mates because I believed that everyone needed someone. I jumped on planes to welcome friends and members of the military home from tours of duty.

Before you knew me, I was unafraid of living and even less afraid of dying.

Before you met me i was a fairy princess
I caught frogs and called them prince
And made myself a queen
Before you knew me i traveled ’round the world
I slept in castles and fell in love
Because i was taught to dream
I found mayonnaise bottles and poked holes on top
To capture tinkerbell
They were just fireflies to the untrained eye
But i could always tell

[chorus]
I believe in fairytales and dreamers dreams like bed sheet sails
And i believe in peter pan and miracles
And anything i can to get by
And fireflies

Before i grew up i saw you on a cloud
I could bless myself in your name and pat you on your wings
Before i grew up i heard you whisper so loud
“life is hard, and so is love, child, believe in all these things”
I found mayonnaise bottles and poked holes on top
To capture tinkerbell
And they were just fireflies to the untrained eye
But i could always tell

[chorus]

Before you met me i was a fairy princess
I caught frogs and called them prince
And made myself a queen
Before you knew me i traveled ’round the world
And i slept in castles and fell in love
Because i was taught to dream

Email this post

I don’t know where this post will go but I assure you it is likely to be a long and wild ride. I feel like it’s been ages since I have had the energy to write much of anything, so it is a good thing to be sitting here in the wee hours of the morning.

Only two more weeks until the new round of therapy starts. I don’t know much about it yet, other than this is a cancer specific drug that will target the tumor we’re most concerned about. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it will be oral chemo but I’m not hopeful. More than likely it will be IV once again. This time around I’m going to get more rest and simply exist while the medication does its job. I need to avoid neutropenia at all costs, especially with flu season right around the corner. I know that I have to do all those things and maintain a positive attitude to experience the best possible results.

The pain meds just aren’t cutting it. I hate to take them but sometimes they are the only thing that allow me a little rest and relief from the headaches. The seizures bring their own issues. Hopefully when I return in two weeks the oncologist will reevaluate the pain management plan and allow me to have something a bit stronger. Until then, only two things seem to really make a difference- hot showers and orgasms. (If you don’t believe me, read more about pain management techniques here.)

The Knight has been absolutely wonderful. He showers with me to ensure my safety and to help me if I need it. When the seizures rear their ugly head, he holds me and talks to me, making sure that I’m back without any lasting issues. We haven’t argued or fought in ages and it feels really good. We’ve talked and started to make arrangements for things like funerals and wills so that there will be no questions when the time comes. It’s not easy on either of us, but it really feels like we’re pulling together instead of flying apart. And it shows in our lovemaking.

Gone are the days where I was frustrated by the lack of foreplay and attention. Instead, we’re at a place where we instinctively slip into the routine that suits us both at the moment, though usually it’s what suits him. Our needs just seem to mesh seamlessly and without hesitation. The love is mixed with a lust so desperate and so tangible that I can hardly believe that I am finally experiencing this wondrous thing even as I face death.

Sometimes I want to scream. I want to rant and rave and throw things. I want to curl into a ball in our bed and wish it all away. My heart and my head can only agree that this is by far the most unfair thing ever, at least for me. Then I pull my head up and my shoulders back. I admit that it isn’t fair but in the end, isn’t it much better to have had this time together, to love and to experience such emotional intensity than to have never had it at all?

I’m not strong. I’m scared and I’m lonely. I’m wondering where my supposed friends have gone and why they are so afraid to be with me now when I need them the most. Still, I try to remember that I am not weak per se. I’m simply human. All the things that I am thinking and feeling are normal for the circumstances I find myself in. I only wish I weren’t here on my own, ya know?

That’s all for tonight. Just a few of the random thoughts tumbling around. I’m going to go to bed now, to sleep in the arms of an angel.

Email this post

Seizures uncontrolled and causing major issues with day to day functioning. The nights are getting worse. Neither The Knight nor myself sleeps hardly at all. He has to work, so staying up with me, keeping watch, isn’t working out very well.

Am I being selfish by keeping up the fight? It feels like I am. Still, I am so desperate to have more time that I do it. Of course we knew the score. We’ve been lucky to have fought it this long, right? Maybe it’s time for hospice after all.

Really, I can’t take another long night doing nothing but having seizures and losing hope.

Email this post

This is my first post to participate, so I hope I’m doing this correctly. If you want to participate, just go here and get started!

1. What is your favorite song to have sex to? Anything by Enigma or old school 80’s hair bands
2. What is your vision of hell? All the people who have ever hurt me, they serve horrible food (only water), and hot temps
3. In the film made of your life, who will play you? Hmm….Jennifer Grey in a fat suit
4. What is the one thing you most urgently need to tell your mom? That I love her and that I wish I could see her today, to talk to her about arrangements
5. What will be carved onto your tombstone? just when the caterpillar thought the world was over it became a beautiful butterfly
And the bonus: What is your drag name (which would be, first name: the name of your first pet; last name: the name of the street you grew up on)? Brutus Berlin

Email this post

It’s been a while since I’ve spent time responding to comments. Is it something that I should do? Does it make a difference to the people who leave comments? Usually I try to visit their blogs or email them directly, but I wonder if answering comments here would be better all the way around.

What do you think?

Email this post