Minx: “Erm, nothing…”

First time I’ve been able to say that and not be lying though my teeth. TakenBoy is… Complicated. He’s taken obviously, and was living with his long term girl-friend*, however, he is poly, their relationship is not. He is also unhappy, our group of friends is constantly asking when he’s going to end it. He’s in a D/S relationship with a mutual friend and I first met him there. I wasn’t interested in him at all, he seemed a nice guy but not my type at all. We occasionally saw each other at various gatherings and got on but still I wasn’t attracted to him. He was too short, too skinny, too pretty & baby-faced and 99% of the time a sub. I like my men tall, dark and rugged who will pin me against a wall.

Our mutual friends had a house-party for the eurovision, he ended up standing behind me and stroking my hair & neck ( nothing special we’re a very touchy-feely group) I stared to play bite & nibble whenever his hand came into reach, play bites turned into sucking and nibbling, then he was kissing me. Suddenly it was “oooh I like this guy!”. We did nothing more than kiss and we didn’t managed to get together again for ages, then we ended up having a foursome with my house-mate and another friend. A while late we spent the night together, no sex again but lots of other things.

All of a sudden things cooled off, he wasn’t returning my texts and when he did he dodged any questions about coming over. I finally snapped, got really upset and told him that I wasn’t going to try any more and if he didn’t want to see me he didn’t have to. “The reason I don’t reply is that the idea of coming over and spending the night is just too temping.” We talked and it boiled down to he didn’t want to get tangled up in anything else and just wanted to sort his head out and decided what the hell he was going to do with his life. Which is fair enough, but I told him off for not just saying from the beginning, which would have saved a lot of trouble.
We’ve seen each other a few times since then, he’s helped me out with the house, and the odd pub quiz. But we finally got to spend some time alone last night. I wasn’t expecting him to stay over, but after dinner and games we ended up snuggeled up in bed watching Hot Fuzz. Though at one point I ended up pinned to the bed, it was actually innocent (at least on the face of things) but it really turned me on. As it was half one in the morning by the time the film finished he ended up staying over. There was more snuggles, tickles, kisses & nibbles, it wasn’t intentional, just instinct, then suddenly we remembered we were supposed to behave. So we did. For about 5 minutes.  About every 20 minutes we’d remember the behaving thing again and stop.  The same happened in the morning when we woke up, ironically the closest we came to anything was after he’s got dressed and was about to leave.

It was the worst night I’ve spent in a long time. “I’m literally aching for you.” I whispered, his only reply was and understanding sigh and to hold me tightly. All night was like that, wanting nothing more than to have him and knowing he felt the same way**.

Having someone to hug me and snuggle with was wonderful, but that frustration, that was hell. As his friend I don’t want to get in the way of his happiness or mess things up. As a woman I want him, I don’t care what it takes. I don’t want to loose my friendship but gods above I need someone right now.

* She had to move about half-hour away for work.

** If I was him I suspect I would have passed out from lack of blood to the brain if you get my meaning.

Alas despite being ridiculously stressful it’s also ridiculously boring. I have no exciting tales to tell. The past few months can be boiled down to the following points:

- There are always more boxes.

- Two rooms worth of stuff will somehow fill an entire house.

- Decorating is much harder work than it looks.

- Boys are useless (except when it comes to DIY, when they really come in handy).

- No really, boys are absolutely useless.

- Despite all the hard work you do, the vast amount of take-aways you consume as you’re always too tired to cook will add up.

- Doctors, especially male ones are wait for it… Useless.

- You stockpile a lot of drugs over the years.

- Moving house is a great way of finding things you thought you’d lost long ago.

Every-thing’s grand going into theatre, though the anaesthetist had a test of his skill finding a vein to plug in to, but no bother, and when the surgeon starts, everything looks good, left tonsil out, right tonsil out, small problem a rather large abscess behind my right tonsil (probably the reason I’ve had almost constant tonsillitis). Surgeon decided it has to come out and slices away, it’s a bit bigger than he thought and doesn’t stop bleeding, until I loose 3 units of blood, after 2 units they send a sample down to type and cross-match for a transfusion. The lab kick up a fuss as someone got mixed up and the date of birth on the sample of blood doesn’t match my files. Luckily my kick-ass surgeon gets the bleeding under control and they decide to just keep me on fluids. I wake up 3 hours later than expected, covered in bruises and dressings on my arms, wrists, hands, ankles and feet from where they tried to get lines in and kept failing miserably. The nurse in recovery tells what happened, I’m still off my tits from the general anaesthetic, so the fact I almost died doesn’t really sink in. The nurse helps me put my piercings back in, given the trouble we have with my Munroe (it takes us about 15 minutes between us) I comment “It’s a good job I don’t still have my clit pierced!” “I’d have fun explaining that to my lady wife.” He replies, we had a right good giggle and flirt though, general anaesthetic obviously lowers my inhibitions.

This is all followed by an over-night stay in hospital, after which all is declared well & I’m sent away home, in less than 24 hours I’m back in hospital, my throat is so swollen I can’t swallow my own saliva and I’m making a very fun rattling noise when I breathe. Back to hospital I’m whisked, to spend the next day being prodded by ENT doctors and hooked up to drips. I can’t swallow still so I get my pain killers and a course of anti-biotics intravenously. A few days into my second hospital stay I start to cough rather spectacularly, so spectacularly in-fact half of my throat gets coughed up. I dare anyone to have done a better Exorcist impersonation. I was literally projectile coughing blood, lots and lots of blood, and chunks of dressing and throat. It certainly woke the nurses at the end of their night-shifts up at 6am. It also seriously impressed the consultant when I had a second bout in the afternoon, I coughed so hard I burst the stitches my surgeon had so meticulously patched up my ravaged throat with, hence the excessive amounts of blood.

They keep me in for another few days, by which point I’m going a bit mad stuck in a general sort of assessment ward, everyone else is whisked off to various specialist wards, while I’m stuck there as they haven’t quite decided what to do with me yet. I ask when I’ll be discharged, in a few days they say, another bleed like the one I had and I’d need to go back into theatre. This does not impress me, I can feel the obstructions that had made me cough in the first place are gone (it was the dressings), I’m still coughing up bits of throat that have scabbed over, but that’s par for the course post-tonsillectomy. The swelling in my throat has all but disappeared thanks to the anti-biotics, I decide against much medical advice to discharge myself from hospital, being there is driving me mad, it’s not good for my mental health, or my IBS. Oh and the worst thing about having your tonsils out; I can’t purr or roll my r’s any more! I’m devastated. Apparently I will learn to do these things again, I am not convinced or overly impressed…

I spend the next few weeks living off ice-cream, coughing up gunk and feeling sorry for myself. My throat is almost healed now, though it and my nose aren’t really sure what to do with themselves sans tonsils, I have be careful drinking as if I take too big a gulp half of it goes up my nose and I end up dribbling my drink from my nostrils. It looks oh-so sexy. I also can’t blow or suck very well (no sniggering at the back) I can’t breath just through my mouth, I end up breathing through my nose as-well. So if, for instance, I’m drinking a drink with a straw I end up snorting and making a delightful pig-like noise if I’m not careful. Having a tonsillectomy does wonders for your self-image I tell you.

I do have more stories to tell but alas the removal men are here tomorrow and I need to be up early, once I’m finally moved in I should be able able to update more, and despite my brush with death I’m rather chipper at the moment as one part of my life at least seems to be sorting itself out, namely the house.

At this rate decorating the rest of the room, and the other bedroom will take me over a week, luckily I’ve enlisted the help of my future tenant and her various poly-partners and subs. So I should be able to sit back, relax, and poke the slave boys with a stick when they don’t paint fast enough. Which sounds much more preferable to me.

After that there’s moving everything up from my parent’s house, including a piano, and that’s going to be ever so fun, especially as there’s nowhere to park anything bigger than a small van any closer than about 50ft from the house.

Bridges to be crossed later, as right now my mind is filling with ideas about photoshoots with naked man painting my house.

Now, onto the fly in my ointment, if you visit a tumblr like this one dedicated to London you will see a lot of her photos come from sites billing themselves as being about BBW’s, her earlier more pornographic shoots often seem to come from similar types of sites, ones that specialise in BBW’s.

Now if you don’t know BBW stands for Big Beautiful Woman, and herein lies the problem, London, is by no stretch of the imagination big. What has it come to that just because a woman has curves she’s lumped into the “big” category.

This is London, and admittedly I am no medical professional, but to me she doesn’t look overweight, I would say she is at the top of the ideal weight/height/build band, as in if she put on a dress size then yes she may be considered overweight, and if she dropped say two then she would be underweight. But as things stand she isn’t, and that’s what bugs me.

I would describe myself as a BBW (if I had to put myself in a box) I’m overweight, I need too loose weight, but I’m still pretty and sexy and beautiful. London’s figure, while extraordinary in it’s voluptuousness, is not extraordinary in terms of weight. So why is she being classed as a BBW?

As an anthropologist I could probably write a book on this, but as I don’t want to bore you all to death I’ll keep it short and sweet. Western society has been so deluged by images of slim, tall, boy-shaped models that when we see a woman with a different type of figure and a healthy amount of body-fat, we see her as different, not as normal, which she is.

Women come in all shapes and sizes, even if you just look at women who are in the healthy-weight category. But the media, fashion industry et al seem to forget this. Even, or especially women’s magazines, remember the huge outcry (of joy, I might add) when a model with an actual tum, was in a cosmo issue? It’s crazy that a magazine as big as cosmo don’t even have a section of body shapes in their models, and when they do, when they actually show a woman with a little tum, that pretty much all women have, especially ones who’ve had kids, it becomes a huge issue.

Now admittedly the only women’s magazine that I buy is Filament, which isn’t big on photos of women*, so maybe things have changed in the past few years in magazines, but they haven’t on the internet. Women like London and like Teer Wade are lumped into the “plus-size” & “BBW” categories, just because they are bigger than a size 10 and/or have a lower waist:hip ratio than 1**, and call me crazy, but that don’t seem right.

I’m sure there are lots of people who’ve written about this in a much more in depth way than I have, but it’s been something I’ve needed to get out of my brain for a while. And who knows, maybe I’ll manage to write an actual essay next year on it. If I do I’ll post it up here just to really bore you all.

*Though it must be said their selection of male models cuts pretty much across the build spectrum.

** In western society a .7 WHR is preferred by men, as it indicates health, fecundity etc

Over the past few weeks my health, both mental and physical has been improving, though I’ve been stuck with yet another bout of tonsillitis. There is a bright side to this, it’s the fifth time I’ve had tonsillitis in the past 12 months, so I’m finally getting a referral to the ENT, and hopefully, getting my tonsils out. The past 2 times I’ve had tonsillitis I’ve had to visit hospital and it knocks me for six for a good month or so, the prospect of finally something being done about it has cheered me up a lot.

The escorting was put on hold while I was very ill, but I’ve picked it up again and it’s been going pretty well, I had my first total ass-hole of a client, who is now black-listed in terms of myself and I’ve spread the word to other girls as much as I’m able. Aside from him, I’ve had some great guys, most of them I wonder why on earth they are using me, but for whatever reason it pays my bills!

I’ve not attended university at all this term, thanks to being so damn ill, however, they’ve agreed to let me go down to part time, so I’m hoping next year is better. I still have exams to revise for so I’m going to start cracking on with that.

And the biggest news has been left until the end… I’ve bought a house! Exciting stuff and it makes me a responsible adult by-proxy which is very weird. I have also adopted a moggie to live with me and my dog, and my lodger. He’s currently staying with me in my rented accommodation as the shelter couldn’t hold him any longer, we just haven’t informed my landlord and my house-mate is happy to keep quiet. Hopefully me, and the moggie, will be able to move soon once all the paperwork is sorted. Said moggie is currently stretched across my bed snoring, and I’m not quite sure how I’ll manage to fit in there.

I know this has been a bit of a boring post, but I just wanted to do a brief catch-up, let you know I’m not dead and hopefully I’ll be writing more fun stuff soon!

Jason Isaacs, I want to have his beautiful Jewish babies, he’s just divine. I think he and the ever sexy Jason Statham would have to be my two freebies, y’know even if I was married with kids I’d be allowed them.

Gary Sinise, it’s probably the character of Mac Taylor in CSI: NY I find attractive as opposed to the actor himself, I still wouldn’t kick him out of bed though.

Robert Knepper, first came to my attention in Prison Break, the character of T-bag being so deliciously evil and yet funny and sympathetic at the same time, a tribute to his skills (as well as the writers).

Willaim Fichtner is next, Black Hawk Down, whist being a wonderful and poignant film is also a totty-fest, but it’s the more unlikely figure of Mr Fichtner that caught my eye in it.

Robert LaSardo, combines my love of ink, bald men and goatees, ’nuff said.

Finally, for now, is the dog whisperer himself Ceasar Milan, as Misssy M said “He has the twinkliest eyes of any man.” He is also surprisingly well built when you look at him.

That’s enough for now I think, otherwise I’m going to come over all faint. Please feel free to share your weird old man crushes in the comments.

And I’m not trying to knock anyone’s beliefs here, I’m writing in the interest of debate, mainly a debate within myself. I think if you have a spirit animal, or were an animal in a past life, you will take on the “bad” and “good” sides of that animal**, the human side of things is to not give in to the bad things, just as we try to do anyway (or as most of us do).  Also even if you want to take on aspects of any animal take a look at yourself first, learn about the animal that is Homo sapiens, and take a look at non-human primates, and see where certain behaviours really come from.

Having said all that, I think if you wanna dress up a kitten or whatever then go for it, it’s all in good fun, as ever, it’s when people take it too seriously  that they get on my nerves. I can also see why people would want to identify with a spirit animal and maybe they do exist, maybe we’ve all got a guardian cat (or sea urchin) hovering over our shoulders, it is certainly no more unbelievable than the parting of the Red Sea or turning water into wine.

And having said all of that moving in the circles I do, we’re ever so fond of labels, especially in the BDSM community***, so as someone who is liable to purr and be distracted for hours by a ball of string, I’ve been trying to work out where I fit into all of this. I quite like the idea of having kitty ears and a tail, cos it’s fun and I can swish it about, but I’m not a neko-girl as such, not human enough, neither am I a kitten, the cat-like aspect of me isn’t there to be someone’s slave (when have you ever known a cat to be slave like?). I also never thought of myself as a kitten definitely a cat whenever I have put any thought into it. Could I believe I was a cat in a past life, possible, but I don’t actually believe it, just acknowledge it as a possibility. I do believe in reincarnation, and it’s not a far jump to believe that animals have souls too. But I’m uncomfortable with the Therian label, talking to various therians I don’t see myself in that camp at all. Lets say I was a cat in a past life, well I’m a human in this one, just a few traits have carried over, I don’t feel I have a cats soul and I’m in the wrong body (although I do sometimes try & sleep in impossible positions (for a human)). And although I’m a furry in some respects (strictly speaking anyone who enjoys watching cartoons or drawing anthropomorphised animals is a furry)**** and these are the respects I refer to, I don’t think I’m an animal or go around in fur suit.

So I’m somewhere in the middle of it all, lacking a label but I don’t care I know what I am, a human being with a few cat-like quirks, and although labels are often helpful sometimes they just don’t work. I also hope I didn’t bore you all with this, this was an exercise for me to work out where I was, thinking aloud really.

* You never hear anyone say how closely resemble a sea urchin.

** Only good and bad according to our morals and virtues not theirs obviously.

*** Well, with so many fetishes and kinks we need some way of identifying them.

**** So if you liked bugs bunny as a kid, you’re a furry.

We talked about it between ourselves, and we both agree on the matter, so it’s not just me going all bunny boiler on someone, and I’m not about to go take her out with a rifle or anything! It’s just when ever we talk there’s this little nagging feeling, especially when we flirt or mess about, a feeling of “you should be mine”. I’m happy to talk with him about his relationship and about her, she’s a lovely girl and he loves her a lot. But weirdly I’d say me and him were more compatible than him and her.

He wants to marry her, he’s planning on proposing within the next year or so, and part of me if made up for him he’s obviously happy and I want my friends to be happy. The other part of me is regretful, I suppose, wondering what might have been and if we could have spent the rest of our lives together and had kids and such. I know he thinks about it to.

And I struggle, I want to chase after him, give it all I’ve got and steal him from her, but clichéd as it is, I also don’t want to spoil our friendship. What makes it more difficult is the fact we have done things we shouldn’t have together, we find it hard not to touch each other and so I keep thinking “Would it be all that hard to get him?”.

Maybe in a alternate universe we’re together, and in others we never met, and one shouldn’t dwell too much on this sort of thing, or you’ll end up questioning every decision you’ve ever made. But I’d be intrigued to hear what others have done in this situation did you chase or leave well alone? Despite the fact we’ve known each other for over a year now I’m still deciding what to do, or not as the case may be.

A dear friend very kindly gave me £50 for Christmas so I could buy petrol and come and spend it with my family. It made my mum’s year but I’m tempted to send him the money back, when I can afford it, as it’s all gone a bit wrong.

I was ill when I came down, recovering from a very bad cold/mild flu, so I knew I couldn’t do crimble dinner with the family, including grandparents (which was a bonus in all honestly as it’s a depressing affair at the best of times).  But it doesn’t matter, I thought, I’ll see all my mates and have a grand old time, especially now I can drive, I bet I’ll hardly see my parents at all. Ummm… Yeah. I’ve spent the past week in the house, and not seen a soul aside from my parents. I’ve texted, facebooked, tweeted, done pretty much everything aside from actually going to knock on people’s doors and got nothing… Begged to know people’s New Year plans, made t clear I was free and would like to be doing something… Still nothing. I even asked people at the other ends of the country, saying I could drive up/down. The 2 who actually responded were both negatives, for good enough reasons, and at least they responded.

All this has been further compounded by various other issues. My mother revealed that one of my cousins, who I was inseparable with as a child, is an alcoholic, she had to quit her job before they fired her for drinking at work, she’s been in rehab. Oh and tonight I just found out she’s already fallen off the wagon today. Alcoholism runs in my family, it’s no surprise one of my generation is carrying on this tradition. And goodness knows she has had a shit time of it recently, she’s been anorexic, after being very overweight as a child/teenager. She was assaulted at work leaving a huge scar across her face. She went to uni, decided to change degrees, meaning she had to do an extra year, then dropped out. Her boyfriend of several years was killed in a motorcycle accident, which devastated her. She developed epilepsy and (unsurprisingly) depression.

When my mum told be about the alcoholism, I wasn’t surprised, and I was going to text her, say lets together, maybe even see what she wanted to do for NYE, as I’m driving I’m not really drinking at the moment so she’d have someone to stay dry with. But I didn’t I was stuck in my own little pity party and I’m going to be wondering for a long time to come if I could have helped her stay sober. I know that she needs to do this herself, and she won’t beat this unless she wants to. I’m going to give it a day or so then text her, not going say anything about all this, just see if she wants to go out for lunch or shopping in the sales or something. See what she says, maybe be open with her about my problems see if she opens up.

On top of this I’ve managed to break my car in various ways already, blame a friend’s evil drive for 2 of my little accidents, and someone vandalised my windscreen… These have to be hidden from my mother as she’ll flip out, considering she brought me the car I don’t blame her.

I also still have a lot of money troubles, national rail are on my back as my young person’s rail card had run out when I came home a while back and I didn’t realise. They were going to charge me over £200, which I couldn’t afford (and still can’t) and now they’re threatening prosecution. My bank keeps ringing me and sending me letters as I keep going over my overdraft (accidentally)…

Also add to this the fact I’m still late on an assignment for university, which I got one extension for and need to apply for another, and that I just can;t my head in the right place to write the assignment and you have one very stressed, upset, ill Minx.

I’m sorry for the downer nature of this post but I needed to vent and fuck it, this is my damn blog I’ll write what I like!! I hope the rest of you have had a much better Chanukka/Christmas/New Year’s than me. And here is hoping to a much better 2011.