Y'all know how these things work. In this case, I get to write ten things you may not know about me, then of course pass the honor on to someone else. Since I tend to be a chronic over-sharer there may not be much that you don't know about me at this point (at least that I can realistically share here) so I decided to steal an idea from the dishy Babe Lincoln (check out her version here) and build on why she chose me.
Minority Report said that she chose me for sharing my issues with low libido and that got me thinking about how many things about me are very, VERY different now than they were just three short years ago. So without further ado:
- Low libido to hyper-drive -- Low is an understatement. It was no libido. If we had sex it was with feelings of guilt as the motivator, lacking enthusiasm (though I did try to fake it), lights out, don't-look-at-me, don't-touch-me-there, don't-DO-that attitude. Everything else in the relationship was strong (though we didn't realize how much could improve) but as far as sex, it was a non-starter. Nor did I have any real fantasies about other people. There was no "alternative" person that I found attractive; I just had no interest in sex. Now I have the sex drive of a 17-year old boy. I can and will fuck three or four times a day. If Vince is tired or busy, hooray for masturbation! I have a fantasy life so rich the bag-boy at Target isn't safe from my prurient thoughts. I can make a sexual innuendo, inference, and invitation from the slightest of arched eyebrows. Male or female brows. Don't much matter to me.
- Body self-loathing to body acceptance and enjoyment -- I used to hate, hate, hate my body. Not a day went by, not one, where I didn't look in the mirror and think "you're fat", "you're ugly", "you're a loser." To be accurate, when I was younger I wasn't always fat, but I always THOUGHT I was. Anyway, one day (okay, over a series of months) I realized I had to get over this psychosis or let it continue to eat away at my soul. So I went to a nudist resort, got over myself in about an hour, and haven't looked back. I still hate bathing suits and prefer the nude environment to the beach where I still look pretty much like I did before, but I no longer hate myself for it. I can buy clothes and while I wish and work hard to be a few sizes smaller I don't look at the fact that I'm not a size 8 as a moral failing or commentary on my self-worth as a human being. (For the record -- I'm pretty much a size 14/16)
- Porn -- I used to hate porn, found it morally offensive and thought it was degrading and damaging. But as my interest in sex reignited my curiosity started to grow along with it. I was completely ignorant really about how people fuck. Now, I enjoy porn, mostly amateur porn involving multiple participants. (I like the amateurs because people actually laugh and smile during it and not the silly porn-star-mewling that just drives me batty.) Having sampled a wider variety I've learned that there is such a thing as "bad porn" just as there is such as a thing as a "bad action movie." It doesn't mean the entire genre is without merit, only this particular production. I discovered I have preferences ("Hot Office Encounters -- part 8") and things that turn me off completely ("Hairy Snatch! -- part 22" yes, they actually have this series and someone really digs it.) I've also learned that about 5 to 10 minutes does the trick.
- Fitness -- Three years ago I'd become a couch potato and started to look like it. I had a sedentary job, worked from home, and never, ever exercised. My legs, which have always been my best feature lacked muscle definition or tone. My arms had started to take on a ham-like look, my ass was starting to droop; I had a slack look to my face and chin. In short, I was starting to look old. But worse than that I was starting to feel old. I'd get winded going up stairs; I had chronic back pain. I tried walking but that didn't do much for me (too boring and too isolated) so Vince and I returned to riding our bikes. The first three mile ride was almost the last, it was so hard. But I kept at it. Then I added karate. Next came weight training. And though my weight and general size is about the same (a little smaller) I don't look the same at all. I'm an athlete and I look, move, and carry myself like one.
- Clothes and style -- Good Lord, this is a big one! Due to numbers 1 - 4, I'd lost my sense of style and had started dressing in what I thought "fit" which was apparently more like what my grandmother would've wore. I'd started to dress like a matron (when I was working) or a slob when I was at home. Ill-fitting shorts or sweats and baggy tee-shirts were becoming my lounge wear. Hideous. Granny-panties and plain-Jane bras lived underneath. Sad. But as my sexiness returned, my fitness improved, my self-loathing abated, my belief in myself as a pretty person revived and I started to buy clothes that hug my curves, scandalous bra and panty sets that I wear everyday. I show skin. With my small, perky boobs I'll sometimes go braless under a clingy little top, nipples showing. Speaking of showing, I show plenty of skin -- arms, shoulders, boobs, legs. My style is back.
- Mortality -- Both of my mother's parents died in the last two years and I was intimately involved in their care. There isn't enough room here to describe the affect this had on my life other than to say that death changes everything. Dying is hard and humiliating. Seeing it all end, vibrancy and ability taken from someone a day at a time, inch by inch, millimeter by millimeter. The terrifying realization that this fate awaits you as well. Porn isn't degrading; having someone wipe your ass is. Not having sex when you're old and your body has failed is sad; not having it when you're young and vital is pathetic. Getting slapped across the face by the bony hand of death is pretty serious fucking wake-up call.
- Tattoo -- So my shock and horror at the process of death soon became a terror at the very real possibility of not living fully. I'd always like tattoos, but for a variety of good and not so good reasons had never gotten one. So one day, being concerned that I may forget the lessons I was learning about not living fully I realized I wanted a daily, permanent, prominent reminder of my concious decision to change the way I lived my life and I came up with a concept for a tattoo. My first and so far my only. I found an artist I liked, I discussed my ideas with him and a few weeks later I now sport an enormous gray-wash tat that starts just above my right knee and ends above my hip. It is a self-portrait of me, as the Grim Reaper holding a scythe above my head, ready to sweep down and take life. The text floating over the Reaper's shoulders says "Enter Mortuous Ero" which roughly translates to "(because) One day I'll be among the dead."
- Atheism/Agnosticism -- I was raised a devout, fundamentalist Southern Baptist and though I had, for the most part, abandoned the church I realized three years ago I was still subconsciously living in fear of a literal hell and eternal damnation. The scars of these teachings are deep and my trouble with the morality of the teachings were almost as old as I was. But about a few years ago I stopped trying to twist some form of religious faith or spirituality out of something I no longer believed. More importantly, I quit denying it and the remnants of fear, guilt, shame, disappointment, condemnation, and confusion that went with the dogma just.... vanished.
- Self - acceptance -- A few years ago, when Vince looked at me and said "I love you, baby" there was a deep hidden companion thought that whispered in the back of my mind "... yeah, but you wouldn't if you only knew....." I couldn't tell him that I fantasized about having sex with women; what if he was disgusted? I couldn't tell him that I wanted to know what it felt like to have sex with two men; what if he stopped loving me. I surely couldn't tell him that I had fantasies about fucking groups of other men and/or women, surely he couldn't love me if he knew that. But he knows all that now, and he still loves me; more so now, I think, than even before and not in a "Yee-haw, mah wife is a big ol' lesbo!" but he sees it's just another part of who I am. But more importantly, I voice it now, I accept it as part of who I am and not some dirty, disgusting, evil, wicked me that lurks behind my eyes and smile. It isn't just my body that I'm learning to accept for all it's "flaws" and variations; it's my mind, spirit, desires, and soul as well.
- Connection -- I used to feel as constant sense of detachment from pretty much everyone primarily, I now believe, because I WAS detached from everyone -- always hiding from myself, Vincent, and the world at large my true nature. I lived in a constant state of "if they only knew what I was really thinking, they wouldn't love/like me." I blame the church for most of this. But it was also my family who can withhold love and acceptance with Olympic mastery. I believed that "everyone" agreed with my self-loathing assessment of my body and my mind and was constantly baffled by people who said nice things. But over the past few years I jettisoned some friendships that weren't healthy, I've distanced myself mentally and physically from my very challenging family and established a few new boundaries, I've opened up to people via my blog and also in real life, revealing more of my genuine nature. I'm finding some existing friendships deepening, my marriage strengthening, and new relationships based on a more authentic me growing. I am, for lack of a better word, happier now than I was three years ago. And going strong.
So there it is. Ten things about Ivey that you may not have known. For my tag I'm going to pass it on to some bloggers that I really enjoy:
For being an artistic, creative, and interesting person -- 13 Messages,
For being a tattoo'd tattoo artist and sexual Superman -- Red Region Inferno,
And for being able to spin a good, sexy yarn, newcomer Hands in my Pants and Other Lustful Desires.
You guys know the way these things usually work but please, no pressure. If you want to write something up, dandy; if you don't, it's just a silly ol' blogosphere meme. ;) We'll all live.
And tomorrow Ivey is doing..... drum roll please..... MY FIRST PRODUCT REVIEW! Wheeeee!!!!! I was contacted a few weeks ago about doing some sex toy reviews and we received our hopefully first of many toys to try and comment on for your and our pleasure. See ya, sugars!