Today's bridge luncheon at church went well, I even bought a quaint little tea pot for my Daddies morning cup of tea. My daughters Guides unit certainly came away from this social event making a fair bit of money for their camp fund. The 40 women in the league enjoyed playing bridge and the meal that we 5 volunteers served them all.
Tonight at the local pool I was in my bathing suit sitting in the sauna and hot tub all by my lonesome. Soaked my weary body in the over-heated water till I was almost light headed, jumped out for a cold shower and a cool down, then right back in again. This time straight to the jets, to let the forceful spray of water work it's way from the base of the back of my neck, down my spine slowly, over and steady on the tailbone, right then left butt cheek, dead center till they felt numb and finally letting the water push the tension out my toes as I held my feet to the spray.
In the sauna, sitting yoga style, palms up, eyes closed, breathing from my vagina, I found some peace in the smell of cedar and the quiet of the closed heated room. My mind settled and I knew that this was a place that I wanted to return to again.
Walking out of the sauna a man questions me as I walk towards the overhead shower nozzle. "What's your tattoo worth?" he asks me. "How much?" Pausing to reflect back 7 years till when it was done took me a few seconds. Before I could answer him, he'd positioned himself so he could see the tattoo on my upper right shoulder more clearly.
Then looks me in the eyes and says "you know tattoos always look better when they are filled in with color." I perhaps give him an amused look and he says "don't you think?"
Well thanks for asking since it is my body & tattoo you're talking about, I'm thinking to myself. "No, I've never thought of it that way, or had that opinion on another's body modifications or my own", I tell him.
"Hm" is his intelligent reply. "Yours would look better with color in it" he tells me. "What exactly is it anyways?"
If you've not seen my tattoo, it's two hearts handcuffed together with a chain connecting them. A single tail whip is cracking down my back and between the hearts. There is a small letter J in one of the handcuff corners and the other has a C in it. The J is for Jennifer of course, and friends have said over the years that the C stands for Commitment. Those who know me applaud and appreciate my commitment to both my activism and my kink.
So back to his question, "what exactly is it anyways?" He'd annoyed me, interrupted my private thinking space to offer a negative unsolicited comment and was at this point bordering on being rude. I'd had enough of this person and he deserved what happened next.
"You want to know exactly what it is?" He nods, meets my eyes with a smirk and his face goes all weird as he obviously does not understand my answer to his question.
"My tattoo is a property tag",** I tell him. "Property, like someone owns it?", "No" I tell him, "property like someone owns me, ownership." He adjusts his half naked Speedo wearing self and says "Cool, but you should still tell the guy it would look better in color."
The term
bitch slap came to mind, and of course I refrained.
Really though, my body is nobodies business but my Daddies, my Doctors and my self.
Standing in the women's change room, bottoms removed I caught a glimpse of my soggy self from the waist up. Sticking out the side of my bikini top is the scar from January's breast surgery. The hot water made it look angry and purple, standing out strongly, at least to my eyes. Two days ago I went to see the doctor to have the final stitches taken out. Two stitches, that were supposed to be dissolving ones, just would not leave. The knot on one end and a full stitch, thankfully she removed from my breast the stragglers and now I can put that whole experience behind me.
Lucky for the man at the pool that he wasn't any nosier. On my right hip is a large brand, I don't even want to ponder the stupid type of comment he would have offered if he'd seen that bold body modification on my body. 5 inches tall by 4 inches wide, hard to deny what it is. This is my commitment to who and what I am. Remember the C in the handcuff standing for commitment? Or perhaps he saw the brand and could not find anything to say, hence to fair game on my very personal tattoo which is actually covering a cutting that someone did on me 7 years ago.
**note, my tattoo is not a property tag. I've worn a property tag over the years in two different relationships and at this moment, I'm void of one. I normally would have told someone who'd asked me nicely about the tattoo that it symbolizes a time in my life when I
thought that I had to make a choice between a relationship that was not kinky and actually acknowledging my own kinkiness.
