Unselfconsciously I bathe myself intimately, reach inside, feel for the string that tells me I won’t be having babies – yet.
I inspect my nipples – are they unduly hairy, in need of a pluck? I might promote being happy with one’s body as it is, but that doesn’t exclude a few enhancements. I don’t shave my bits, partly because I have sensitive skin which flares up at the slightest mention of hair removal down there. I prefer the orange triangle of hair to an itching mass of red plucked chicken look. Admittedly I’ve not investigated laser removal or even depilatory cream/spray; I’m just not that fussed about the presence of my pubes and possibly too lazy. With my proportions I am frequently still infantilised aged 35; there’s no need to assist those fantasies. Then there’s the political point of not conforming to porn style pussy. I think this is every woman’s call and won’t judge others on this choice, but I do think more porn ought to be reclaimed and created from the woman’s point of view.
I’m thinking about how we are on our own, in the comfort of our own privacy. When we go to the toilet and we don’t think about the noise we’ll make or the smell. If we get an itch we’ll go right on in and scratch. The difference between being alone and with others, how it takes a while to share as much of everything as we can. When I fall in love or make a new friend I really notice where I am holding back or shy. After a while I’ll leave the door open, censor less. I am grateful for that intimacy with others, to just be myself getting on with living rather than worrying.
As Idun was saying while I was modelling in her class yesterday, “When you stop worrying, let go of preconceived ideas, that’s when the magic starts to happen.” So true. They were drawing with their ‘wrong’ hands.
When I am on form, life modelling is like a gift. I get paid to express myself as I am. I mean it’s spiritual! How much I am in the moment becomes a measure of how well I am working it. I guess that is the same for any job, but in this one, mostly what I am doing, is just being. Holding still and being. Looking vaguely interesting. Somehow. Cultivating posing. Tuning into my natural presence and switching it on full blast, whatever the fuck that means. Beaming at the artists till I forgot they are even there, remembering something funny my boyfriend did or some comedian…
I notice I feel quite free among these artists, performing myself for them. If I feel sexy I show it, without being overt. Whatever I’m feeling they get it. They get more of me than some of my friends do and sometimes I think they know me better. They watch me just being.
I keep thinking about intimacy. About my desire to share stupid stuff which probably turns my boyfriend off me but I like sharing because otherwise I would be holding back. Sure sometimes there is a value to resisting sharing and I will find such a line if it ought to be known.
I think partners who we love are a good place to start when considering intimacy. He is the only person I regularly have naked physical contact with. When I was younger there were many more such folks in my life and often I didn’t know them. Now I do monogamy. I love him very much, his physicality and all. He is more than twice my body weight and I love to feel the pressure of him bearing down on top of me! That is a sensation I cannot give to myself. I am comforted by his flesh; he makes me feel tiny and I am like a little fairy next to him.
My boyfriend makes me wish I had dropped out more. Like stayed on that road because then I’d have more friends like that, instead of disparate womenfolk of similar strands of awkwardness to myself. Hey ho, what to be done but just be getting on with where I am at… I need to be a life model just to come to terms with this stuff! In the end though I just let go of me because there is so much more to give.