By Stephie, on Monday 26th April, 2010 at 11:30 am
Dunno about you, but I’m still here rocking my own little world ;D
As you know if you read this blog on a regular basis, I do sometimes talk about my breasts. I call them that, ‘cos somehow I don’t think they’re big enough to qualify as boobs; maybe it’s the double ‘o’ in the word itself that makes me feel that. Maybe I’ve got bobs! Still, it amuses me no end that small and cute as they are (trust me on that one!) they can still create controversy. Shall I tell ‘e why? Be prepared to be shocked. Sit ye down and I shall reveal all…
I DO NOT WEAR A BRA
 Bobs! It’s ok, you can pick yourself up now. I cannot believe how many people are shocked by this (mostly women). In fact I was asked only yesterday “but don’t your nipples show?”. I lifted up my jumper and said “you tell me”. “Well actually, that’s quite a see-through t-shirt you’ve got on there”. Do I care? No I don’t, ‘cos funnily enough I think most of the human race have nipples. And I like mine almost as much as I like my legs (from the knees down you understand).
I remember at the tender age of about 15 my mother called me disgusting because I hadn’t put a bra in the laundry for weeks. I retorted “that’s ‘cos I don’t wear them”. I can still recall the look on her face today; it was so much more satisfying than rebelling by dying my hair pink. And at the age of forty-something my age I’m extremely pleased to report that my gorgeous bobs are still perky and not in need of any uncomfortable and rather pointless (excuse the pun) scaffolding. So if you’re ever lucky enough to see me flash my t-shirt (summer’s on it’s way), be prepared and bring your smelling salts.
How did you survive Boobquake day?
By Stephie, on Sunday 20th July, 2008 at 19:27 pm
I saw something extraordinary today.
I was watching a woman lying on a bed covered in a primrose-yellow duvet, patterned with spring flowers. Her eyes were half closed and occasionally she seemed to blink, but languidly. I watched her move the duvet to the end of the bed with her foot, where it fell a few inches to the floor, but it wasn’t until that point that I was aware of what she was doing. You’d probably expect me to stop looking, but it was compelling and I couldn’t turn away. I was surprised at how completely fascinating it is to see someone lose their self in orgasm, and I’d never seen it like this before. As her neck arched, she had her eyes closed and her mouth open, and just then took the man’s penis in her hand, really tightly. They hadn’t touched at all until that point, he just laid there, so still, listening intently to the silence. The whole thing seemed unnervingly quiet, but with such an incredible intensity. I’d never experienced anything like it before.
By Stephie, on Tuesday 24th October, 2006 at 17:10 pm
A friend emailed me the other day and asked to see some more pictures of what I made in Scotland. Well, I haven’t got any more pictures, or things that I made. What you saw in the post ‘End of the Day’ is more or less it, bar some drawings in a sketchbook – which are going to stay there (I have a bad relationship with my drawings at the moment: they are bad and I’m failing to change their attitude…).
But I did write some ‘poems’. I use the term very loosely since I know nothing about writing poetry and just make it up as I go along (ha, ha!). I have a dim recollection of what an iambic pentameter is and could probably recognise a sonnet, but that’s about it. I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember, but I’ve never shown anyone (for fear of ridicule obviously!), but today I’m going to be brave and will show you something I wrote up north. If you have an aversion to crude language move to another post now, because that’s mostly what it consists of – I think I may have been unduly influenced by the vernacular in the Lumsden bar…
Close My Eyes
She had a good time fucking around and playing the field
Hanging out in clubs with her knickers down
I was the ‘clever’ one stuck at home
Waiting on promises of things to come
Waiting on passion that never begun
Closing my eyes and wishing for the day
When someone would hold me and put it away
Closing my eyes and dreaming of the day
When I would take it and put it away
Close my eyes and dream of the day
When I will fuck it and have it away
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I'm running a 28 mile marathon in memory of Josie this February. Come and find out why.
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