A screen capture from WebWhoreHQ cam (this is what I look like right now):
Don't my boobs look . . . flat, elongated and shapeless? Don't I look like a someone with no sense of style who does love the color red and is trying unsuccessfully to have a presentable "look"? Don't I look like the kind of person who would enjoy contentedly explaining that she doesn't personally relate to the notion of gender as identity-shaping?
Do I look like I'm living a glamorous life? Do I look like a pornographer/camgirl/webwhore? Do I look like I even have a sexual life?
This would be a perfect moment to blog about a bunch of things I like to mull over and have been thinking about (and experiencing) a lot lately: aspiring to ugliness, aging, shapeshifting, the sexuality of pregnancy, my plans for my future as a working, evolving webwhore, etc. But I'm just going to continue on my contented way back into bed wearing my dorky flannel and fleece, living the good old American life.
I think we're going to fuck tonight, see.
And I think there's nothing more provocative or challenging than a woman who appears unsexy or sexless having really fantastic sex, or even enjoying just mediocre, regular sex. And having people pay to watch and listen to her do it. It's almost revolutionary, I think.
This is what I look like (right now). This is part of who I am. This is more "me" than Trixie in stockings, Trixie in corset, or Trixie in . . . wait a second, Trixie in red dress with white polka dots
is as much me as fleece and flannel me is. Dual Trixie.
Haven't had sex all week except with my hitachi magic wand. Not complaining about that. But am looking forward to a nice roll in the hay tonight. Had wonderful kissing session with trans girlfriend today. I'm very happy.
I wonder how many beautiful women can say the same. I wonder how many of them would envy me versus how many would pity me my life/style.
Just wondering, not guessing. Very capable of amusing myself without reaching any conclusion. I am (and think that I look like) a woman who can amuse herself. Easily. It's called imagination, bralessness, and a forgiving elastic waistband in my pajama bottoms that allows my mind to wander free from the distraction of discomfort.
Labels: aging, beauty standards, gender issues, PHOTOS, SEX, thanksgiving, voyeurism, webwhore insights