oh fits me in the waist and hurts my tits. Of course makes me weird and horny as well.
I mean who doesnt love a man burying his face in your tits? I mean I am supposed to not like this? So I know I do stupid confusing things, but isn’t getting attention confusing? Isn’t this the closest thing I know to love? This makes me a bad person? What is a good person then?
Between what people think I should do and what I do?
I don’t want to be a bad person, I don’t want to hurt people.
But I do, I do. I hurt people. I don’t want to.
I don’t know why new hands on my hips feel so different than old, loved hands, so much more exciting.
I don’t know why I can’t care for myself.
I don’t know why a new forbidden hand resting on my hip feels so good, why men can feel so 4th of July. Idk why.
I am so really sorry. For everything. There is no way to say how sorry I am. I am, for everything. I hurt everything I love. That is why I don’t want to have a baby. I really want to be a good and kind and loving person. I really do. I don’t know why sex feels so compulsive.
Last night I was so distracted at dinner. My husband asked me what was wrong. After some improvement my fork to mouth action just stopped again. It is weird how my body just shuts off food at times like these. It will come back I know. It didn’t come back today yet, but I did eat a chicken sandwich, so that is good, but that is not enough energy for even my body. I slept four hours.
I can’t tell my husband. He knows about some things, he knows about some things that have happened since we were together. I don’t know how he will react. I think it makes him sad. Sometimes he will ask what I was doing what I was wearing. For the record yesterday I was wearing a baggy turtleneck over baggy jeans, because now everything I own is baggy pretty much. Sometimes he looks sad and confused when I tell him, other times he starts asking questions. Questions that aren’t obviously accusing, but questions that sound accusing to me. I think it makes him feel helpless and afraid so he wants to blame me.
So I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell anyone because I don’t want to be blamed. I did think about it. I thought, oh that kid, who looked younger than me to me, skated down steps, skated in a bee-line into me, skated into me when there was plenty of open space around me. I have seen skaters fuck up before, but they lose their boards, he didn’t. They fall down on the ground before they hit you. Even though I turned my body, even though I closed my arms around my softest parts, his first hand landed there, his second on my other tit. Then it seemed like a third rubbing around the small of my back. I mean I know the guy didn’t have three hands. His tall torso pressed against me though, I just kept my eyes closed and went to that far away place in my head. I actually don’t know how long it lasted.
I was just trying to close up in myself. I remember him rubbing me like a genie lamp. I didn’t open my eyes until he held me by the shoulders and said he was, “so sorry” I shouted and walked away, did I imagine his smirk? I wanted to say, if you can’t stop from running into people you shouldn’t skate. But my mouth was all angry and closed.
But of course he could stop. He could go down steps, it reminded me of the time I used to get a ride to work from the guys who used to turn the heater way up to make me take off my sweater. I didn’t know that at the time, again too stupid. I wouldn’t know that now but one of them told me later, how it was a joke that I would wear a sweater in the summer and they would turn the heat up. I would turn red, but not take off my sweater. I mean even with a shirt underneath.
We went to work really early. 6:00 a.m. So I used to go to the gym before hand, it was a 24 hour gym. Often after I finished working out the man that worked there would accidentally go through the locker room as I was getting changed and naked. That is what I told them one morning. I was tired of it, I mean after about six times you think he would learn. So I told the turn up the heat guys. I was sitting in the back seat saying how I didn’t want to complain because he couldn’t remember. I mean he wouldn’t want to hurt me on purpose, right?
I will never forget when I got it, it was before they said anything. They looked at each other, with a knowing look. That was when I knew I had been a fool. Then the one that would become my lover said, “That’s not an accident”
I felt stupid, stupid, stupid. I don’t think of doing things like that. So I always think that it is an accident. I don’t look at people and want to harm them, so I don’t think people want to harm me. I really don’t know what happened yesterday. I just closed my eyes and went away, but I remember him all over me. I felt jumpy all again today, around joggers, anyone moving fast. I have of course had much worse things happen to my body, the whole your body belongs to anyone thing.
It changes though when it is fresh. He was so tall. I was so small in comparison, I was so overwhelmed. I turned to look at him when I wanted to shout. He did not look back at me, he seemed happy, his head was up. I turned around and worked on making it very small inside me, no big deal, just an accident. I don’t feel helpless and afraid. My God, if I talk about it I am bragging about my tit size. Even my own mother will tell me, because I am more like my grandma than her, “You are just bragging now” She wonders why I don’t want to talk to her.
It reminds me of when I was living alone just before I got married. Some guy was hassling me and my apartment manager got all involved and wanted to call the cops and tell them I was a woman living on her own. I said, “Don’t, don’t call the cops” he was confused, but then he has never been around horny cops, while handcuffed who need to “search you for weapons” I couldn’t tell him that. I will spare you the details but I didn’t scream. I went away like I do. I thought I was going to be killed.
Some fabric from my skirt is over the bottom of my arm, that is why it is all alien. It is blurry too, but Idk, don’t hire me to photograph your wedding is all I can tell you.
Tonight, on the way home from work, talking to my bff who adores my husband, I do too. But I just said it, “Sometimes I wish he would have an affair” We were talking about this time he accidentally got very drunk and slept with a married co-worker. This is before we were a couple, but I knew him. At first she thought I said I had gotten very drunk and slept with one of his coworkers at an office party. Which he is not my ex, he wouldn’t have got weirdly turned on by it.
I have done some fucked-up things in my life to be sure, but not that one. I wish she hadn’t found it so believable and made that “oopsie” comment like it was just another thing I would do. She wanted to know why I would want him to have an affair. I want to be able to say, “Look what you did! Oh you are awful, but I am very forgiving” She laughed and told me I was just looking for ammunition. I am, I don’t want to feel like the bad person for once.
My almost bff called me up last night, she is a different kind of friend and my only one from my childhood. She is the one that I first confessed how stressed I sometimes get from the street harassment, because I thought she would understand but instead got all competitive and mean. She is one of those friends where 90% of the friendship is about her, her drama. She blows up my phone all the time and often doesn’t seem to even care if I am on the other end of it. I cut her off as she was going on and said I had to go. She started to yell at me about how she is “always there for me” Before I knew what I was going to say, I shouted, “You are not, sometimes you are really cunty!” and hung up. Then she blew up my texts with how ashamed I should be.
I thought I would call her back today but instead felt furious every time I thought of her.
Then there is A, my friend that looks most like me. I got up the nerve to confess my feelings that I have been exploring here to her. To someone I know, who I think would understand. She did, she was awesome, she was excellent she got it exactly and was very kind.
Then there is my boss, file cabinet man, who since I have lost a little weight, his only comments are about wanting to make sure I am getting enough to eat and no longer about my excellent taste in tops. Who in a meeting caught my eye and mouthed the words, “It’s O.K.” to me. Because he wanted me to feel safe. That was so kind.
I am changing.
So everything is a mix right?
Feeling sexy vs. sexualized. Feeling like climbing on my husband and bouncing away in the early morning. Feeling like I can do this marriage thing. I can be a person who is monogamous and my body is mine. My body is not just for whoever wants me. I can overcome my past.
Feeling like I can’t overcome my past. Feeling so sexually motivated. Feeling like I hide away from sexual attention which I do get during the day, and ignore, and then want to act on in the night. Shame. Taking my shirt off in front of a lesbian to get my way. I had a tank-top on underneath, but still. Did get my way.
Hearing other women joke about me. Tonight.
Oh which reminds me of my shovel story.
So me being me, having the troubles I did. I decided to get really drunk one night and drive around. This is just one of the many, many stupid things I have done.
I wound up in jail. Which I deserved. Part of my sentence though was community service? Idk, digging a ditch is what it amounted to. So okay, I never mind digging ditches. But there was this man there. I think he saw my tittage. Because the next thing you know, he is carrying my everything. He is doing his work and mine.
There was also a woman there. As big as a mountain. She started to make comments about how she wanted to hit me over the head with her shovel. Because she thought I was shirking work. But I wasn’t. I felt helpless and scared and the work leader kept saying that he would take me out for drinks after work so I could get another DUI and work for him again. Which only made mountain woman hate me more.
So yeah, I have been given a lot of things for free. I have even had men try to buy my fucking groceries. I have seen them slip their wedding rings off into their pockets. It always comes with a price though. Always. Shovel to head price.
Which by the way, I went silent for a week or so and lost about half my followers. Why? I mean it surprises them I feel shameful? idk. or I am being punished or paranoid. Idk.
I know I was already wearing a bra.
I was with some friends, girls and boys, we were running. I was very happy to be with these kids, I thought they were very cool and we were running to buy tickets to do something fun. I was running as hard as I could, I think we must have been racing. I wasn’t the first person to the window but I got a place right up front and was breathless as I put my hands on the counter before the ticket seller.
He was a nice looking man, I remember that part well because what happened next shocked me so much. He ignored the other kids, I remember he ignored the boys especially because I was used to being the ignored one in favor of a boy. He looked right at me, like no one else was there.
“I really liked watching you run” he said kind of serious. “You have a really nice chest”, he smiled and then brought out his hand, he didn’t touch me but made kind of a figure eight motion in front of my nipple area, “mmm, they just jiggle and wiggle don’t they?”
I stood frozen. I had been teased by boys my own age earlier, even been called a slut before by an older neighbor boy when I didn’t even know what the word meant. Never by a nice-looking grown man though before. I felt scared and alone. My friends were quiet, no one came to my defense, they all acted like nothing happened.
I looked down to make sure they weren’t moving anymore. Then we bought the tickets and no one said anything to me. That was the first time I understood my tits to be something everyone else had the right to talk about but I didn’t. I was supposed to act like I didn’t have them. I was supposed to ignore everyone who made me feel like a toy.
I am trying to be more confident when I go out in public, less afraid of strangers and what they will say to me. I decided I was paranoid today and felt confident walking down the street thinking no one is even noticing me. A young guy was walking in the opposite direction coming toward me and I felt that I could tell he had no interest in me. As he passed he said, “nice tits” but he kept moving. It wasn’t too bad, he said it kind of like, “nice day” and low and not hostile and laughing and scary.
I had to pull back that shirt and tie it into a knot on my back to take that picture. One of the things that sucks about titties is you look like a fat slob if you don’t show your waist. No wonder so many girls are fat, it is better than an overcoat.
See, I can prove it:
I have found out it is actually kind of hard to take pictures of your own tits, who knew? I am learning a bit more about that kind of stuff but I still don’t get how come the first picture is so big and the second, the slobby looking one is so small.
Also weirdly, I am finding that I like the pics. of me braless betters. Which is weird, because I thought I would be too embarrassed of my braless self. Irl, I am. I won’t do anything without a bra. But I kind of like the way they look without one, soft, comforting.
That is the thing, I really like tits, I like having them, just don’t like always having the reaction I get. I am only posting them because if I read a blog about tits I would so want to see them. I mean how lame would that be to see a blog about tits but no tits?