I AssumeThat You Live In The West

I assume that you live in the West, and that for you too, the holiday season means awesome feasts, gifts and I hope lots of family time. To sum it up, the holiday season is the best season to experience ABUNDANCE.
But do you feel this abundance throughout the year? I’ve asked myself this question as I was working on my resolutions, or my goals rather, for 2013. I’ve decided that 2013 will be, for me, a year of ABUNDANCE. But not the typical worldly abundance, ie. lots of money, lots of romantic love, lots a friends, lots of business… no, my goal is to feel full of abundance, in the sense that I am content.

The abundance that we may feel during the holiday season is probably not the kind that is given by God, for it rarely lasts. I want abundance to last. So maybe it means that I have to rethink my vision of abundance to find the kind that God intended us to experience.
“Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance.” Jude 1:2. I want this verse to ring true in my life. Rather, I want to become aware of how this verse rings true in my life. Because in some way or another, this verse rings true in every one of us.
So how does one become aware of the abundance of mercy, peace and love in one’s life?
I notice the order of the words. First mercy, then peace and lastly love. It strikes me as unusual that love would be listed last, since I know that God is Love. Paul in 1 Corinthians 13:13 says “the greatest of these is love.” But God in His infinite wisdom puts mercy (aka grace) first because it all starts from His mercy.
Nothing we do can give ABUNDANCE. We can have all the money in the world, and still not feel like we have abundance. Abundance is a state of mind, not a relationship status or the state of a bank account.
Everything that comes to you is undeserving. There’s nothing you can do to deserve the good or the bad that comes your way. Everything you experience is a gift, sometimes a hidden gift. Therefore, you become THANKFUL for what you have because it is a GIFT to you from God, from the universe.
And once you understand that God has given all these GIFTS to you by grace, and that you understand that there’s nothing you need to do to be deserving of more gifts, you start to feel the PEACE that brings grace. Because the focus is no longer on you and your behavior. The focus is on God and His grace. And thanking Him for His grace.
And once you feel the mercy, the grace that God has given to you freely, and that the focus is no longer on you, then you can feel the abundance of LOVE:
- The LOVE coming your way because God is showing you how much He loves you.
- The renewed love of yourself and the opportunity to be more gentle on yourself because you now understand that it’s ok to make mistakes, it’s ok to fall. And that you’re falling doesn’t stop God from loving you and freely giving to you in His grace.
- You can start to love others more openly, and more freely because you love yourself more openly and freely because you know God loves you openly and freely.
That’s why “mercy, peace, love” is named in that order. Because everything that comes our way comes from grace. There’s nothing we’ve done to deserve the good and/or the bad. Every experience is a gift from God, there’s no such thing as a curse. Acknowledging that truth brings you peace because the focus is no longer on you. You can now rest from the bad thoughts you had about yourself. Which opens up space for love, to freely receive it and freely give it around you.
And that’s how you experience ABUNDANCE. It’s not about material possessions, it’s not about your relationships. It starts with you being THANKFUL for God’s grace, even if all you have is very little.
I assume that you live in the West, and that for you too, the holiday season means awesome feasts, gifts and I hope lots of family time. To sum it up, the holiday season is the best season to experience ABUNDANCE.
But do you feel this abundance throughout the year? I’ve asked myself this question as I was working on my resolutions, or my goals rather, for 2013. I’ve decided that 2013 will be, for me, a year of ABUNDANCE. But not the typical worldly abundance, ie. lots of money, lots of romantic love, lots a friends, lots of business… no, my goal is to feel full of abundance, in the sense that I am content.

The abundance that we may feel during the holiday season is probably not the kind that is given by God, for it rarely lasts. I want abundance to last. So maybe it means that I have to rethink my vision of abundance to find the kind that God intended us to experience.
“Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance.” Jude 1:2. I want this verse to ring true in my life. Rather, I want to become aware of how this verse rings true in my life. Because in some way or another, this verse rings true in every one of us.
So how does one become aware of the abundance of mercy, peace and love in one’s life?
I notice the order of the words. First mercy, then peace and lastly love. It strikes me as unusual that love would be listed last, since I know that God is Love. Paul in 1 Corinthians 13:13 says “the greatest of these is love.” But God in His infinite wisdom puts mercy (aka grace) first because it all starts from His mercy.
Nothing we do can give ABUNDANCE. We can have all the money in the world, and still not feel like we have abundance. Abundance is a state of mind, not a relationship status or the state of a bank account.
Everything that comes to you is undeserving. There’s nothing you can do to deserve the good or the bad that comes your way. Everything you experience is a gift, sometimes a hidden gift. Therefore, you become THANKFUL for what you have because it is a GIFT to you from God, from the universe.
And once you understand that God has given all these GIFTS to you by grace, and that you understand that there’s nothing you need to do to be deserving of more gifts, you start to feel the PEACE that brings grace. Because the focus is no longer on you and your behavior. The focus is on God and His grace. And thanking Him for His grace.
And once you feel the mercy, the grace that God has given to you freely, and that the focus is no longer on you, then you can feel the abundance of LOVE:
- The LOVE coming your way because God is showing you how much He loves you.
- The renewed love of yourself and the opportunity to be more gentle on yourself because you now understand that it’s ok to make mistakes, it’s ok to fall. And that you’re falling doesn’t stop God from loving you and freely giving to you in His grace.
- You can start to love others more openly, and more freely because you love yourself more openly and freely because you know God loves you openly and freely.
That’s why “mercy, peace, love” is named in that order. Because everything that comes our way comes from grace. There’s nothing we’ve done to deserve the good and/or the bad. Every experience is a gift from God, there’s no such thing as a curse. Acknowledging that truth brings you peace because the focus is no longer on you. You can now rest from the bad thoughts you had about yourself. Which opens up space for love, to freely receive it and freely give it around you.
And that’s how you experience ABUNDANCE. It’s not about material possessions, it’s not about your relationships. It starts with you being THANKFUL for God’s grace, even if all you have is very little.

These pictures were taken by a French photographer Alain Delorme

These pictures were taken by a French photographer Alain Delorme in Shanghai throughout 2009 & 2010.
He called the series Totems.
These couriers – mostly migrant workers from other parts of China – not only need strong legs but also acrobatic skills to balance these massive loads on their tricycles & bicycles while on the move.
A lot of you must be wondering where the center of gravity is in each case…. Think Big…anything is possible!

Image Printing

A Very Interesting Piece Of Furniture

Hubby and I went away for Christmas and we stayed in a hotel that had a very interesting piece of furniture that we don’t have at home. It was at the end of the king sized bed. It was soft brown leather, 6 legs about 5 feet long and 2 feet wide and was very cushy. This room also had a couch, a chair, a desk, a desk chair and this intriguing ottoman. Yes, I said ottoman.  But the only items we used was this ottoman.
I suggested to hubby if we could use it and what do you think? He looked at it and he contemplated and you could see the wheels turning in his head. My hubby was very inventive. His mind is enthralled on how this ottoman could be used.
So he figured out how we could use it, 4 different times. Of course this got hubby thinking of a different kind of ottoman that he could build. This ottoman would be custom to fit me. The height, the length, the width. I suggested we purchase one so it looks like it belongs in our bedroom but I guess are goodies don’t really belong in a vanilla bedroom, either. Not when we have a sex swing stand, ropes, and straps hanging from the wall and a shelving unit that houses lubricants, ropes, wash clothes and chains, among other items.
So I guess we go shopping for an ottoman that will fit me or at least see what furniture stores have that will get his wheels turning even more.
Ever since I told him about my love of BDSM he has been so creative. Not resting, always reading or researching something new to try because he knows he can try anything with me now.
No holding back now.

I almost wasn’t going to include this since

I almost wasn’t going to include this since it might seem a little silly to all of you experienced bloggers, but…I have hundred followers! Three digits, and I’m thrilled! To have a hundred people who came to my blog and decided that they wanted to hear more, well, it’s just amazing to me. And here’s what I know: There’s no way I could have gotten here on my own. Of course, my parents were a big help (and all the wonderful people who read my blog!), but having God involved made all the difference. I would have given up or run out of ideas a long time ago if not for Him.
Anyway, enough about me. My point: Is God involved in your life? When you start a new venture, do you pray about it first? Do you ask God to guide you in every aspect of your life?

Some Christians treat God as if He’s detached from our situation. Like He doesn’t care or something. Well, let’s get something straight:
God cares!
He cared enough to send His Son to die for you! If He didn’t care, He would have just let us wallow in our sin. He would have let us get what we deserved, an eternity spent in Hell. But He didn’t give us what we deserved! He gave us what we didn’t deserve! He showed us mercy and grace. We have disobeyed Him countless time, and yet He forgives us again and again. Why?
Because He loves us. God cares. And He wants to be involved in your life. Far too often, however, we shut Him out. We go about our plans purposely shoving aside God, the Creator of the Universe, our Savior. In doing this, we only hurt ourselves. With God’s support (and when we’re in accordance with Him), we could accomplish more things, help more people… If we don’t involve Him, we’re only building a wall in our relationship, a wall that will grow until we tear it down.
God cares and wants to have a strong relationship with you. Let Him into your life!

This Is Me

So I had some nice drinks last night and wrote something pretty personal. I came back this afternoon to find myself loving the visceral language I used. But overall feeling unimpressed with my grammar and some awkward phrasings. In the spirit of this blog I didn’t want to do a hard edit though, so after editing it a bit I’m reposting it here so that the original can still be where it is, untouched. Enjoy
Well this shall be a bit more of an adventure that my previous literary excursions. Everything beforehand was something somewhat of the past, but tonight I feel like being bold and describing where I’m at with my mind and relationships right now. Very much a risk in some regards, there’s a very good chance one or many of the people mentioned in the following post will end up reading it, but I’m okay with that, for the most part. I don’t intend to try and keep secrets about myself farther into the future, if there’s anything I’ve learned over the past few years, it’s that trying to disguise yourself in a stone face and keep your emotions and thoughts to yourself merely ensures you’ll be buried under the weight of them. I want to free myself of the chains that my mind brings upon myself, not add to them; so here I go.
I’m okay, I’m down on the floor but looking up faithfully and seeing a light that I can follow. That’s where I’m at in life right now. I’ve met and become acquainted with some beautiful souls while at my first semester at a new school and I can tell that overall the place is much better as an environment for me. I prefer smaller ecosystems, places where I can find a niche and disappear inside myself when I feel it necessary, not somewhere like Amherst where the weight of it being such a large place eventually rests upon your shoulders. I didn’t have a perfect first semester, I still messed up some things more than well enough to be ashamed of them. But I found light at the end of the tunnel finally. I see some plot upon the horizon i want to visit, and maybe set up shop. I finally seem to have some basic form of a plan for my life laid out. It isn’t the most fully fleshed thing, but it’s much better to know what’s the endgame rather than just flowing throughout life without a notion of where I want to be tomorrow.
That said, I still have much I want to improve right now with where i am. There are some things like physical appearance that are not really things I can change tomorrow, you just have to put your head down and appreciate any good changes in the future. But then there is the matter of my intense single-ness. That’s one thing I really do desire to change. It’s less of a feeling of “I don’t have a girlfriend” as much as the notion that it feels like years since there’s been anyone approaching that for me. There’s been no one flirting with me, no one to really flirt with, no ability to acquire to give away the more personal of expressions. And even given me putting as much of myself as I am into these writings, there’s still a lot of feelings that I’m only going to share with a significant other, and that’s just because of who I am. It’s what I feel comfortable doing. I’m by nature a private person, and there’s little outlet for private people when they don’t have anyone that can act as the conduit for the feelings that don’t come out as easily.
The problem with me searching for a girl to call my own, a girl to share myself with and hopefully for her to share herself with I, is…well I mean there are a few roadblocks along the way… But some of the basics are a continued lack of self-confidence in certain situations, mixed with a near complete inability to meet and be friendly with strangers for myself. It’s just not something I do, I positively LOVE getting to know someone, but I can’t stand the feelings of meeting someone. I just feel out of place there. And so I am often left so called circling the drain. And in some regards this isn’t the best option, but by some other token, I must acknowledge this is who I am and how I work.
There’s essentially two girls who are catching my interest as of recently. One who always has and one who only recently captured my attention. The one who always has is essentially an incredibly old friend who from the first meeting I though ” I want to be with her” and this has to some extent kept up throughout my life. She’s an incredible person who I feel all kinds of comfortable around, and is the only person I can ever distanctly remember the feeling of having to hold back from kissing them. Whatever the circumstance, they’re the only person i can remember my body wanting to take over for me and kiss them and i stopped because i valued the friendship too much or i was too respectful of the relationship she was in to drive my foot in between. It changes between the two or whatnot, but point being, I want to kiss them and had to stop myself, rather than pushing myself to kiss them. The problem being that they are such old friends and realistically someone who lives so far away half the year that anything would bring incredible difficulty, ignoring any actual difficulty in the standard relationship as well. But I still somewhat feel deep down that being with them would make me happier than any man, and maybe they haven’t recognized it, but i am the best combination of emotions and actions for them. No way to prove it really, and I could be wrong, but that’s what I believe deep down. I felt a rush of empotions about a week ago when I saw them and sent an abrupt text that didn’t really carry any subtlety or nuance to it, but i had to say something. They haven’t responded but maybe they’re waiting for face to face to respond in some manner? Who knows. Somewhat convinced this option is completely out of the question at this juncture in life, but at some level your heart hopes for what it originally wanted, and so I can’t stop caring without some resolution.
On the other hand is another female who seems to get me; understands at least the more complicated of the nuances to my psyche and her own and we’re very similar in some of those ways. But I’ve never quite actually spent time with her so I’d have to do something like that before making anything even approaching a proper write up on her and I. But it’s an intriguing possibility.
But it’s important to remember that that’s all they are, possibilities. I’m no longer in the game of professing love madly over the internet and thinking it’s a be all end all. Anything more than a spark needs to be cultivated; two souls born perfect for each other can still fall apart without proper growth.
And I suppose this is the part where I must conclude, given my own initial thoughts on the actors playing parts in my mind’s creation, my standard and probably correct prediction on things is another few months of questions and thinking and hoping; only to have the neighbors in their lost Santa light deliver the news that I shall continue where I am. Alone, but okay.

I had spun myself into a protection of silk

I had spun myself into a protection of silk,

for I needed rebirth, to feel my body change.

Metamorphosis encasing my soul with caresses,

I transformed, no longer ugly, no loner strange.

Time I needed and privacy I used,

to ponder over the damage thought done.

But nothing has changed and I still desire,

to share my talent with you loved ones.

I tried abstention from this relieving course,

but how my fingers craved this air.

Often straightening and stretching to touch the keys,

as staying away from my creations, I couldn’t bear.

I reached forward and tore open a freeing gap,

the poetic freshness I could finally feel.

I breathing in essence for my desperate lungs,

offering thanks to this window, I lower and kneel.

Climbing onto my chrysalis, I’m still careful to cling,

for time is still needed to allow my wings to dry.

Stretching them high and wide, I close my eyes and wait,

it feels so incredibly beautiful here, alas, I let out a sigh.

My Heart Is Placed In Your Hands

My heart is placed in your hands, by no fault but my own
To trust so freely, without believing things could go wrong
I see my heart there now, Just waiting to be crushed
Into fine powder, through the strength of your hands.
I want it to matter to you, I want you to want it
Yet you look at it as this foreign and un-welcomed object
As if the concept of ever loving me back is as unfeasible as the skies caving in
It is a terrible feeling; to want to be wanted and yet have no chance
To give your everything and your all, just for it to be unnoticed
Isn’t that life
You try and try, pushing yourself up the steepest hill; Only to get knocked back by the wind
The feelings I have for you at times are overwhelming. Like a cascade of water just waiting to drown me
Moving on isn’t simple
But maybe that is the only way to do it
How do you toss aside love
How do I put down my open hands, waiting for your heart as well
To have it in my hands, and have the power to make you feel the way I feel about you
To make you see the things you do to me; with just one simple touch, one simple caress
To feel your heart melt at the very thought of me, at my very touch; would mean more than you know
But until then, you have mine
Until I can’t take the pain of waiting for you any longer
I am here, and I will always love you
I just won’t wait on this forever
I can’t
I believe
I hope

what’s a ‘feminist’ magazine doing with a ‘Fashion’ page featured so prominently on its site

OK, yes, yes, I know: what’s a ‘feminist’ magazine doing with a ‘Fashion’ page featured so prominently on its site? Surely here at WW HQ we all cover ourselves up head-to-ankle with cheese/sackcloth, and finish off the look with shoes that we have fashioned for ourselves out of papier-mâché?
Well, firstly, one of the reasons that it’s so high up is that we’re currently mainly writers not techies and we have no idea how to re-order the damn toolbar – perhaps some nice reader should like to help us with this? And secondly, while I’ll personally admit that I’m not averse to the odd bit of time to myself with the glue and the newspaper and…[stop that - Ed.], er, yes. Right. Anyway, a Chick Doing Shit (I modestly count myself of their exalted number – is that wrong?) has still generally got to buy her sackcloth from somewhere – too busy saving / changing the world and whatnot to be sewing for herself.
Unless of course, you’re saving / changing the world through fashion. Yes. That’s right. I stand by that.
And here’s why.
So, currently a lot of the fashion world – both Bond Street and high street, catwalk and sidewalk (we’re pretty international around here) – have got their priorities all wrong. They are not designing for women – as in the pluralised section of society that the plural ending suggests.
Only the other day on Woman’s Hour one of my heroines, Jenni Murray, said, as if there were no argument about it, that obviously designers use ‘long, thin girls, who often look more like boys, because clothes hang much better on them.’ [my italics]. And my italics are there because, I’m sorry Jenni, but WTF? This is totally wrong-headed.Surely, surely, if the clothes hang better on young adolescent girls who, as Murray says, ‘often look more like boys’, it’s not the models that we should be looking at, IT’S THE CLOTHES. If clothes look better on a girl who hasn’t even developed properly yet, then the problem is with the designers: they are designing for the wrong audience. After all, how many adolescent girls have the money to buy top-end designers? And as we all know, where the designers lead, the high street follows.
As Carole White, founder of Premier Models so charmingly says, she is running a business, and she needs to supply a demand. Fair enough I suppose – mainly because, if she doesn’t supply the girls, someone else will. What we need to do is to change the demand, not the supply. Carole White is essentially irrelevant to this debate. Woman’s Hour should have had the designers who are creating the clothes than ‘hang better’ on GIRLS rather than WOMEN in as guests. And then torn them apart.
‘How do we convince girls that it doesn’t matter if they’re not long and thin?’, asks Jenni.
Here’s a thought: design clothes than don’t cater for only one type of body, and an unrealistic body at that. Create clothes that flatter women’s actual bodies, rather than clothes than punish them for not looking like they’re sixteen, when actually they’re thirty-five and have had two children and, shock horror, enjoy a slice of cake every now and then. And if designers don’t react much to an appeal to their moral sense, how about an appeal to their business sense? How well do you think clothes that serve the purpose of making women look good, rather than making them feel uncomfortable and guilty, would sell? And how many adolescent androgynous models could look good wearing this?
After all, this type of fashion has been available for men for years – it’s called ‘tailoring’ and I believe it’s available all year round at Saville Row, if you’ve got the bucks, and M&S if you haven’t.
So to the point of this rant: here at WW we are calling out (for the love of God!) for designers who understand that women deserve clothes than flatter rather than punish them. That women want clothes that act like your own personal yes-(wo)man. And, as an added bonus, that women occasionally want clothes that serve practical purposes as well – for example: WHEN will whoever it is that makes jeans realise that women would like pockets that they can fit more than a very small pet spider into? If male skinny jeans have them why don’t ours? And day-dresses without any pockets at all – might I ask just WHAT is the point of them? It’s enough to drive a girl to sack-cloth.
So to save the WW team from this terrible sartorial fate, this is a call to arms. Get in touch, tell us about great designers / shops you know who already understand this. Name and Shame the ones who don’t. And if you’re a designer yourself, get in touch too – we’d love to showcase your talent and general Chick-Doing-Shit-ness.
As ever, email us at apoxonthepatriarchy at gmail dot com

A “Predatory Teenage Girl” Speaks Out

The author of this post has asked to remain anonymous; she wrote it in response to Nikki McWatters’s piece, “Predatory Teenage Girls“, in the Huffington Post 
When I was 15, like many teenage girls I had crushes. Not just sexual urges toward people, but platonic or intellectual ones as well. There were several girls in my school who I had a major crush on in that I wanted to be like them or at least inhabit their social sphere. They were the total opposite to me. They were attractive, socially adept, smart, but not scarily so, well dressed, had proper grown up bodies, not like mine which had the puppy fat of puberty but nothing as powerful as tits. They also seemed to be able to de-code adult things like which bands were right to like or what slang terms meant or how to tell if a boy liked you. They seemed confident and had slightly dangerous interests like smoking cigarettes and sneaking out to pubs. As someone who felt too mature to still be treated like a child, but not really ready to live like an adult, I idolised them and wanted to impress them.
I also really did relate to them more than the girls who seemed to have come out of the 50s. I already knew I wouldn’t be the kind of girl who married their first boyfriend, had babies and stayed at home. I knew that I would be leaving my provincial town at the very first opportunity and having a ‘proper’ career. I would never live in suburbia. I don’t know that industrial loft apartments in inner city areas existed in 1994, but I knew they were much more me than a 30s semi. So while I studied hard and attended the Girl Guides and went horse riding, I was also fascinated by heavy metal and rock, particularly the kind of LA based ‘cock rock’ that was all about hard drinking, hard fucking and heroin. I imagined myself sneaking out to dally with those slightly sartorially androgynous, but very manly men who would fuck you senseless and keep you on your toes by offering you something much more intoxicating than a cigarette in the post coital moment. It all seemed so debauched, so like something the girls at school I admired would do, so far from my hometown and so unlikely to actually happen to me. I had a crush on the idea of it all.
I was awkward, gawky and flat chested. I had red hair that entered a room before I did due to its unruliness. I had acne. I wore thick train track braces over teeth like Mr Ed meeting Watership Down. I was precocious and bookish and adept at looking down my nose at other people. I was also naive and wide eyed and not quite sure what was going on with my body and emotions. My parents hadn’t hidden the biology of making babies from me. We had an anatomically correct pop up book about it all and we even said ‘penis’ and ‘vagina’ without giggling too much. But I was unaware that there would be urges and emotions. I was absolutely, completely and utterly desperate to kiss someone both as an erotic outlet and a validation that despite no one else thinking it, I was actually desirable, because smart clearly didn’t really matter at all in the grander scheme of things.
Then one night, after some of the cajoling only a teenager can muster, my parents agreed to let me go to a gig at a nightclub with some of those girls. We plotted and planned for weeks, picking outfits, perfecting our fake IDs, saving for the ticket, practising our over 18 looks. It was the kind of excitement children feel about Christmas transferred to an adult arena. On the night, we queued outside for ages before doors opened. It poured with rain and our veneer of adulthood was washed away as our make up smudged and our hair curled. We strongly suspected that ticket or no ticket, we weren’t going to get in. Then two older men came over and started talking to us. It was suggested we would pretend to be their girlfriends to get past the bouncers. We would basically hide in plain sight and we would get to see our favourite band.
Being nicely brought up middle class girls, when the plan worked and we got inside, we thanked them profusely and bought them a drink and then rushed away screaming with excitement to dance to the music. We thought the deception was a  marvellous bit of play acting and I thought no more of it until I went off to the toilet and bumped into the man whose idea it had been. He stopped me and spoke me, offering to buy me a drink. Both out of politeness and the social cachet it afforded me, I accepted. We tried to talk at the bar but having to yell over the music made it tricky. Before I knew it he was leaning over, touching me, talking straight into my ear. It was exciting and different and thrilling. I thanked him again for his help and he told me that it was no problem, he was just pleased it had given him the chance to talk to me, he’d noticed me in the crowd, I stood out to him. He seemed honest, upfront, grown up. My interest was piqued. He’d picked me.
Before we left the gig for my dad to pick me up, he had given me his number and told me to call him some time if I fancied a drink. I floated out of there thinking he’d seen past the childish trappings to the mature young woman I really was. He was impressed and a little intimidated by me. I felt ten feet tall. I called him two days later from a payphone when I was out at my weekly Guide meeting. I saw only the portrayal of myself I wanted to put forward. It never occurred to me that he had seen the side I wanted to hide and that played more of a part than the window dressing. When I phoned, he sounded delighted, expressing surprise that i was interested in him and we arranged to meet again. He didn’t suggest a drink in a pub, but meeting in the afternoon and going for a coffee. None of that childish back of the bike sheds for me. No, just freshly ground Arabica.
I told my parents I was going to a friend’s after school and took a change of my best clothes, changing in the toilets of the bus station and hiding my uniform in a spare bag. I met him and we talked and talked. He reached for my hand above the table, told me everything I wanted to hear and when we were leaving, kissed me on the lips in a fashion that was both friendly and flirtatious. I was smitten. We met in a similar fashion twice more and nothing more forward happened. I was beside myself with desire, so when he asked me to come for dinner the next Friday night, I had my fib to my parents prepared before he’d even finished the sentence.
I counted the days and hours, turning up at his house so eagerly and full of thoughts and expectations, I failed to register that he lived quite a long way from me in an area impossible to get home from if I had wanted to. There was no dinner when I arrived, but I didn’t care. He told me he just couldn’t wait to kiss me any longer and since he shared a house, we went to his room for privacy. We were all over each other. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted him to fuck me and I had no intention of saying no, even though i’d never even kissed a man before that night. It all seemed very natural, even the potentially awkward moment where I muttered about condoms and I felt very in the rythym of it until we started having sex which was actually quite painful. I felt tense, I felt out of sync, I felt disappointed by the lack of enjoyment but I didn’t want to make a fuss.
He finished and I think I went to say something when he punched me in the face. His fists rained down me as he told me I was shit in bed, I’d led him on, I was disgusting with my clothes off, I was a slut. I had never felt so exposed. I was naked, alone, no way of getting home and there was a total stranger in the room. This was not the man I’d arranged to meet. I had no idea what was happening apart from the fact I was in pain and actually I was angry. I was really angry. I calmly told him I wasn’t having any of this. He was wrong and I didn’t have to put up with this. I think I even told him to apologise because I was leaving.
What I got was actually worse than the beating. He laughed in my face and said I wasn’t going anywhere. Because aside from the lack of transport home, if I left and told everyone where I’d been, I’d get in trouble for lying for weeks and my parents would never trust me again and if I told people what had really happened, they’d know that not only was I a stupid little slut who jumped into bed immediately, I was so shallow and self obsessed as to believe that men found me attarctive when in fact I was disgusting. It would be so obvious that I was a liar, no one would believe he’d hit me, but they would understand why someone might want to because I was so up myself, thinking myself a young lady. No one would think I was smart now or mature or worth taking seriously. They’d laugh and point and I’d never be more than just that stupid slut, especially to my parents who would be devastated to have raised someone like me. That’s what would happen if I left.
So I stayed. Faced with the choice of losing my confidence in myself or everyone else’s confidence in myself, I stayed. I don’t think I’d ever really believed I was attractive and worth his previous niceness and I was ashamed to have been so cocky as to believe it and have flaunted myself. I stayed for 6 months. I sneaked out and lied and saw him all the time so that he wouldn’t tell anyone what I’d done and face the consequences. It didn’t occur to me that there were still consequences for staying. He beat me often enough that I spent all my time hiding the bruises and making up reasons for the ones I couldn’t. He often offered me the option of his fists or a fuck and I took the latter, not knowing that was rape. It was just easier at the time than covering up bruises. All the while, I went to school, kept studying and kept living the same life I had. I became one of those cool girls with the interests that seemed edgy to everyone else and the slightly too brittle attitude for that age. I didn’t think about the bigger picture, just that I’d got everything I wanted after all…
It never occurred to me to leave. I didn’t even know it was an option. I’d never heard of consent or domestic abuse, only wife beating and I wasn’t a wife so I must just be a stupid little slut who provoked and deserved it. I resigned myself to it, knowing that I’d be moving away when I got old enough if I could just stick til then. I didn’t need to though. Someone came along and recognised it was happening. He saw the emotional bruises and he helped me get away from him without a fight. He didn’t tell anyone after all, he didn’t turn up at my house like I feared, he didn’t come to my school. He just ceased to exist in my life. It was so easy, so simple, I couldn’t believe I’d stayed. All I’d needed was a little help.
And so it didn’t seem that strange when my Prince Charming asked me for some help in return. It was just this one time that he’d bought some heroin he couldn’t pay for right now. It was just this once that I could sleep with the friend he owed. He’d be so grateful especially after all that help he’d given me. And since it was only that once and I’d been brought up with such nice manners, I did it. I did it that time and every other time he asked. This was the sex, drugs and rock and roll style lifestyle I’d admired and I was the one in demand. I was the centre of attention and they begged me and I had all the power. It was only once or twice that he threatened to send me back to the boyfriend who’d hit me and anyway, wasn’t it fun?
No, it wasn’t fun. It was a much older man pimping out a 15 year old girl and up to 4 much older men raping her daily. Fun doesn’t even come into it. But I didn’t even realise I was being abused. I was just one of those cool girls who could handle her drugs, had older men falling at her feet and was holding down great grades at school and living this double life that everyone else envied as they read those books about groupies and cool girls. That blanketing feeling when I woke up in the morning and wished the day wasn’t starting was just being tired. It never occurred to me it was fear and depression gnawing at the edges of my life, finding their way in.
It still didn’t occur to me when it all came crashing down round me. One day I turned up after school, expecting to find my presence in demand as usual, only to be told they didn’t need me anymore. I was too old. They were all bored of me. Nothing was new and exciting anymore. They had someone else instead. I was 16 and upon being told for the first time as a woman that my age made me unfuckable, was hurt and furious. It never occurred to me that I’d just been granted a reprieve from repeated rape and that some other poor girl was about to enter hell. I was hellbent on proving that they were wrong and that I was highly desirable. I raged against the fact I’d been rejected and was determined to prove them wrong.
I worked twice as hard at school, showed myself to be smart as a whip, got a great job and starting going out getting wasted as many nights a week as I could. I drank, I took any drug within sight and fucked every single man I met. I could not be seen as unfuckable. I had to be the one who could have anyone they wanted and walk away on my terms. The fact I also began to lose quite serious amounts of weight at the time by not eating meant that both men and women commented on my body all the time. Women seemed to admire me. Men certainly desired me, even if they refused to date me. I’d proved myself to those men who hadn’t really realised what they had. They were the ones damaged by it all, not me.
And it never occurred to me to think any other way until I was 32 years old. I knew I had ‘issues’ but that was caused by other things like my dad running off with a girl a year older than me just after my 18th birthday or developing a selection of serious illnesses or the two brutal rapes in my mid 20s or the high pressure environment of having a female body in the world of fashion. None of that depression or anxiety or post traumatic stress disorder was anything to do with those experiences in my teens or the fact that when my family ran out of money due to the divorce, that had been entirely logical to save money on my fairly pricey pills and gin habit by getting men to buy them for me and end up in profit by fucking them for money at the same time. Because you go into a job you are good at it and I was brilliant at being fuckable but disposable. Prostitution was made for me.
I was also immeasurably fucked up. I used drugs and alcohol as a crutch and a way to detach from life. I had a raging eating disorder. I hated my body to the point where I would feel physically sick to look at it. I didn’t believe I was worth anything, especially decent relationships with men. Violence and prostitution was normal for me. I was so depressed I wanted to die. And I had never connected any of it to those abusive relationships in my past because I had never thought of them as abuse. I’d told a few people about being hit and they never called it abuse, they never took my side even though I knew that hitting a woman had huge social stigma. I assumed I must be immune to fists so I certainly couldn’t have been abused any other way. Cool girls who grew up wanting to fuck older men just did it differently to everyone else and it was everyone else who screwed up.

What What Makes Diamond Watches Popular Among Women?

What Makes Diamond Watches Popular Among Women? Are you a fan of diamond watches? How much do you know about diamond watches? Other answers fall with different types of people. Buy Buy Vintage Estate Watch traditional watch for the next generation become common activity for the young generation to leave a meaningful legacy. This article has suggestions on how to go about buying a traditional watch and consider some preventive measures need to be considered before buying. Omega Watch – Last letter, first quality! Most people, at any point in their lives, hear or see Omega watch. This famous luxury brand watches to high quality products, the company is one of the creators of the best in the world. Pros and Cons of Buying a Watch to use this article to give a balanced view buying used watches. It can be a good thing, money wise, but not so good. Top trends this Add to list Understanding trends and how to get the most bang for your buck is the focus of this article. Whether you are in the market for discount watches or high-end collector pieces, you will want to take note of the latest trend in watches.

I love and respect what Lala does

I love and respect what Lala does! She is a great example for youth Black and Latina females in the inner cities. Lala’s talents, nice personality, education, hard work and respect for herself helped her get to the top. The media personality, actress, reality star and cosmetics brand owner and her crew, consisting of her cousin Dice and BFF Po decided to hit the town in Manhattan to do some Christmas shopping. Lala and her girls also took the NYC subway. For her shopping trip, Lala styled in a red leather jacket and black tights with gold studs on the side paired with Air Jordan Retro 11 ‘Black/Varsity Red-White’. These sneakers are scheduled to hit Jordan retailers this Saturday (December 21). Lala accessorized her outfit with dark designer sunglasses and a Chanel bag. Any thoughts on her outfit?

Best 4 Nail Colours for This Winter

Painting nails is like killing two birds with one stone. On one hand, this is a great way to take care of yourself, a number one step of beauty regime. Since men are not familiar with paining nails (I mean, regular men, not EMOs), polished nails distinguish women from men and make it the easiest way to attract the opposite sex. It’s also a great way of spending your free time at ease. Imagine painting your nails while being completly gassed – definitely not possible.
As we all know, not only clothes are affected with seasons. Nails get seasonal too. In Winter 2012, there are quite a few remarkable nail trends to follow. Colours always play the first fiddle so why don’t you take advantage of winter weather and stay home to try new nail colours? Here they are!

   Number one, burgundy. This colour nods to the trendy wine hue palette and it’s a winter classic that never goes out of style. Rich, deep, and sophisticated, it shines with a polished perfection. Wear it with a deep burgundy lip for a classic evening look as seen in Salvatore Ferragamo. Guess who is sporting burgundy nails? Selena Gomez herself!

   Number two, silver and gold. Of course not at one go. This season presents a new take on these classic hues. Silver is more reminiscent of a gunmetal gray whereas gold plays with green undertones. Keep the polish short and square to avoid looking too vampy (Fergie sports the trend impeccably). Search for inspiration in runway as the trend was seen in Chanel fashion show.

   Number three, emerald green. You’ll love this shimmering and electrifying colour just like Rihanna does. The rock star-worthy colour extends a huge nail polish trend of last seasons, jade green (aka mint) invented by Karl Lagerfeld himself. Ready to amplify any holiday ensemble? Paint your long round talons in emerald green for an instant effect!

   Number four, nude. The contemporary fashion staple: there were pumps, bags and now we have nails. The perfect beige is the modern way to wear a nude nail. Choose the rounder tips to elongate the fingers just like Lady Gaga. Spice it up a bit with a half-moon manicure consisting of black and beige, as in Phillip Lim.

Tidbits For The "Wreath"

The first course of  our Christmas Eve dinner was a “wreath” made with minced meat, suggested by  Vicky  as an alternative and fun way to serve the turkey stuffing. I didn’t cook turkey as I had initially considered but the wreath-dish looked too irresistible to bypass so I made it anyway.  I got a photo of the various tidbits that decorated the “wreath”. The photo for the actual wreath is too embarrassing but I included it anyway. I can’t remember to take photos when I have a big party at home. The one you see  is from the kids’ table and some portion is already missing. We all enjoyed the intense taste of the meat combined with red pepper cubes and plenty more. Trying to keep the dish warm by reheating it multiple times until it was time to serve was not a great idea as it turned a bit dry and dark in the process, especially the tidbits. Next time I will serve it at room temperature. Definitely a keeper. Easy to make and impressive to serve. In case you’re wondering why so many tidbits in the photo, I made three “wreaths”!

Yogurt Dip With Fresh Herbs

Recently, I have been making yogurt dips almost every week. I love how healthy they are, how easy it is to change the taste and how much fun to present at the table with vegetables and whole grain tortillas or crackers. This recipe is a slight variation from the Cilantropist! I guess the Cilantropist uses cilantro a lot. I almost never have cilantro at home because I’m not a big fan. Although, I must admit that in some recipes it tastes great. Just not my kind of herb. We loved the dip even without the cilantro and it takes only five minutes to make.

Cheesy!

6 Votes

This recipe is a very slight variation of the Roquefort ring, which  I tend to remember to make when I have guests. Well, this time I made it just for the family. I thought I was compromising making it somewhat simpler but it turned out even better!  I used crumbled  Blue cheese instead of a wedge of expensive Roquefort and substituted onion with dried onion powder . This was probably the best substitution for me because my stomach doesn’t welcome uncooked onion (but LOVES it cooked).  If you have cream cheese and a little Blue cheese at home, go for it. It only takes five minutes to make and it’s exquisite!

Xmas Treat From Hungary

This recipe was an ad in a magazine promoting a specific brand of butter. It is signed by Regina Beidler. It looked fun and thought I should try it. Surprisingly the dough has no sugar and still tastes great. The treat gets its sweetness only from the jam in the middle. The dough was also beautifully easy to handle. Against my better judgment, I followed the recipe to the letter and “sandwiched” the treat before baking it. I think this was wrong. It took a long time to cook and the part near the jam was a little mushy. Next time I’ll be sure to first bake the cookies and then “glue” them with the jam.  I’m giving you the corrected recipe below.
Recipe
Ingredients

• 5 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 pound salted butter, softened
• 8 ounces cream cheese, softened
• 1 cup jam of your choice
• confectioner’s sugar for dusting

How to make: Use a mixer to beat the butter with the cream cheese at medium speed. Add the flour one cup at a time. Shape the dough into a ball, wrap it with cling film and let it rest in the refrigerator for an hour. Sprinkle the surface you will be using to roll the dough with some confectioner’s sugar. Roll the dough and cut the cookies. You can make them round or use a cookie cutter to give them other shapes. Place the cookies on a baking sheet and cook them at a pre-heated oven at 375F/190C for about 10 minutes or until lightly golden. Let them cool off. Put about a teaspoon of jam in the center of one cookie. Place one more on top and squeeze gently to “glue” them.  Dust plenty of confectioner’s sugar on top and serve!

Brid Song