I love the stars...
...and because I do love them so and I love him, I gave my love his own star awhile back...
Which Tarot Card Are You?
You are the Star card. The Star is the light of hope. Shining in the night, sending light into darkness, the stars provide direction to sailors and are a field on which to dream. Humanity used to look up at the sky and desire to be there, to find out what it all meant, and now we have been a distance into space and have elementary ideas of the makeup of all the different stars. This kind of achievement adds further fuel to our hopes. The eternal, slow-moving stars that will be long shining past the end of our own existence provide hope of immortality, and the vast space they suggest and the very mystery they hold provide us with excitement and knowledge yet to be discovered. Image from: Danielle Sylvie Taylor http://members.limitless.org/~morpheum/gallery.html
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Posted by SD at 10:22 AM
For Nina...
...because she misses me. And I miss
her too.
And I'm sorry I've disappeared for a spell, but I've not been feeling myself. But that aside, I do intend to post something later tonight. Promise.
Posted by SD at 4:56 PM
Vulnerability...
...in my opinion, is a two sided coin.
On the one side, you've got people who have absolutely no concept how difficult it is to push past that wall of vulnerability your waning sense of self confidence has erected and put yourself out there, be it emotionally or physically, when it would be just as easy to hide behind that wall for fear of emotional injury, whether it be rejection or an off-handed comment that may or may not be innocently given, but is none the less hurtful. And on the other side, you've got those people who understand perfectly how very hard it is because they live their lives behind that wall and the mere thought of stepping out from behind it leaves their palms sweaty and their hearts racing. I typically fall into the latter of those two sides.
In my last post
Freya commented that, "
We can be our own worst critics, can't we?" And there are no truer words. I know that I am, without question, my own worst critic in everything I do, from writing all the way down to the image that stares back at me in the mirror.
The lovely Freya also said, "
We have to love ourselves first, which is so difficult in a world where the idea is virtually unobtainable by all but the slimmest margin of woman." And she's absolutely right, as is the delectable
Nina who said, "
All of us are forced to be so self critical of our beautiful bodies because society has decided that a woman is not attractive unless she looks like some mans vision of the perfect female specimen."
With those odds, it's hard not to be our own worst critics and harder still to move past that wall of vulnerability we've erected, but yet there are those of us who occasionally throw caution to the wind and step out from behind that wall. And it's those who humble me because I understand the risks.
I don't kid myself into thinking that the things I write or the feelings I express here will touch or move everyone who passes through here on a daily basis, I imagine a good amount of people skim through my words and move onto the next blog or site without feeling anything at all, but when something I've written does touch someone to the point that they feel confident enough to step out from behind their own personal wall, it's an incredible feeling.
With that thought in mind, and her permission, of course, I'd like to share an e-mail I recieved from Amy of
South Coast Pleasure yesterday...
SD,
Your vulnerability moved me. Your photograph touched me. I am not Gay or Lesbian. I am not a writer either. I feel that sensuality is neither male/female or straight/gay. It just is. So here I am returning to you a bit of my vulnerability.
Fingers. Fingers that gently lift the fabric of your gown to reveal the luscious area of desire.
Fingers. Fingers that gently press against the flatness of your tummy, the center, the beginning, oh, the softness of your skin.
Fingers. Fingers that point down, down, down urging, wanting, needing to touch more.
Fingers, my fingers reach, touch to explore, drawn by the power of your beautiful sexuality.
Fingers, my fingers flirt with the silky black material that separates my touch from the soft warm home of your womaness.
Fingers, fingers that find their way to the depths of your physical sensuality. Deep, inside, warm, wet, moving, throbbing, thrusting, orgasmic.
Fingers.
I found this incredibly beautiful. Not only that she'd share such a personal piece of herself with me, but because allowing some of my own vulnerability to slip through allowed her to share some of her own vulnerability with me as well, and now with you.
Thank you, Amy.
And though I've already told her this, I think it merits mentioning here--you don't have to be a writer to write, you just have to feel and as long as anything you write is written with feeling, there's beauty in it.
Last but certainly not least, I want to say thank you to everyone who left a comment on my last post.
OdalisqueK--I think you look fine too, sweetheart.
Nina--Size is no matter, I'll take a handful of your luscious flesh any day. And you know that I find you exquisite and oh so beautiful, don't you?
AAG--I think you're gorgeous too. Sincerely, I do.
Dane--I try not to care what others think of my physical self and with a good amount of people, I don't particularly, but because I love you, I do care what you think. Always. Thank you, darling.
Freya--As are you, gorgeous! And I'll echo your sentiment, I said so. So it must be true.
Jeff--That is such a beautiful quote you left in my comments and I thank you for adding it, my friend! And that lovely gift you gave Dane and I on your blog last night made me weepy (a good weepy). You are a prince and I adore you, you know?
Sasha--Yes, I do believe you have a point! And you're a sexy temptress yourself, sweetness, you truly are.
Posted by SD at 12:15 PM
Be gentle with me, it's my first time...
My ex-roommate (
her and I no longer share living space but are still the best of friends) likes to taunt and tease me mercilessly because, as she puts it, I’m too insecure with my body to reveal or exhibit myself, which she thinks is silly because while I am a big girl, I’m not an unattractive one. I object to her taunts as I’ve posted a picture of my breasts twice, but as much as I object, in a very real way, she’s right. I admit it, I hate the way I look. And not liking the way you look breeds insecurity, it’s a vicious cycle, but one I’m fairly sure many women go through at various times in their life.
If I looked as she does...
There certainly wouldn’t be a problem. But sadly, the gods of shapeliness haven’t been that kind to me. Mores the pity, but what am I going to do?
Anyhow, since she vehemently insists that I’m too insecure to post a picture of myself that I feel would leave me vulnerable to negative criticism, I’m hellbent on proving her wrong (
the bitch).
So because she said I wouldn’t do it--this is me, it’s only a small part of me, mind you, but it is the part of me that I’m most insecure about.
And I want to say that as a bigger than average woman, I know how hard it is to put yourself out there for fear of insults or worse rejection, but honestly, some of the most beautiful women I’ve met are women that, by most, would be considered overweight. Big can absolutely be beautiful, and I have the utmost respect for those women who know and embrace that. And even bigger respect for men who do.
Posted by SD at 8:16 PM
