If there’s one thing Tucson does better than anywhere else, it’s sunsets.
Took that one with my iPhone 3G, and I’m impressed by the clarity that little camera can pull off.
Isn’t the sky freaking GORGEOUS?! I imagine if I ever make it to heaven (I know, I know… doubtful), the sky would look something like that at sunset.
Breathtaking.
Current Mood:
Happy
Being back in the house in which I grew up is kind of strange. It feels so familiar. Exactly the same as it was the morning I woke up here on my wedding day five years ago. It smells the same, the Tucson November feels the way it always does, and the freaking dry air still sucks the moisture out of my skin like a Hoover.
The strange part is that I find myself reverting back to old habits, feeling like I did when I lived at home so many years ago. I used to get panicky when I lived here in high school. I’d be lying in bed at night feeling restless, wondering if I was every going to get out of this dead-end place. My chest felt tight when I agonize over what I wanted to do with my life. Who did I hope to become someday? What should I be doing? Was I ever going to get away from this city that penetrates my soul with sunshine that leaves me depressed and anxious?
Living in Seattle has been the answer to my adolescent dreams and has erased those fears that I’m supposed to be doing something different with my life. I feel so much more content there, calm and happy. Even on my “bad days”. I never stop loving my charming 109-year-old house and the gentle colors outside my windows. I’m never bored there.
In Tucson, despite the fact that I’m surrounded by family, I feel lonely and antsy when I’m not up and about doing something. Don’t get me wrong, I am really enjoying the time spent with the people I love… I just miss Seattle, my husband, friends, dance community, and never-ending bustle of things to do. My home.
It’s amazing to me how quickly I have adjusted to my new life. Being here makes it evident without a doubt that Washington really is my home. Now, if my family would move there, it’d be absolutely perfect.
I am thankful for… everything God has blessed me with. Particularly, the wonderful family and friends in my life, including my internet buddies.
And I’m thankful for the hard times and all the issues I deal with. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to appreciate all the good and beauty in my life the same way.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Current Mood: Happy
I got a new piercing last night.
Would you like to know where?
Are you sure? Because you’ll probably either love me or really freaking hate me after I tell you this.
I suggest you skip this posting if you hate piercings or think they’re disgusting in some way. Because last night… I pierced my va-jay-jay.
Now, before you get your nipples in a twist and freak out about how the hell I could possibly mutilate my body in that sort of way, there’s a good reason for it. And it was not a spontaneous decision. I’ve been considering it for years, and I decided for sure that I was going to do it around the same time I pierced my nose a few months ago.
So last night, my sister and I made a trip to the piercing place, I let the piercer know I was ready to do it, and we had a ton of fun goofing around with the two employees working there while waiting for the barbell to sterilize.
We’ve been going to the same place for stabbing holes into our body for a decade. Literally. And we’re on a first-name basis with our piercer, B, because he’s awesome and always remembers us and does fabulous, meticulous work. And that’s what you want from someone who uses a needle on your hoo-haw.
The piercing itself wasn’t too bad. The sting was pretty intense when the 14-gauge needle cut through my clitoral hood, but it only lasted a good second or two. Good thing ’cause if I jumped any higher I may have ended up with more than one piercing. Then came the best part… B quickly stuck the jewelry (complete with a pretty, sparkly bead) into the fresh piercing and the pain was gone. Completely gone. It didn’t even hurt to press on it or throw my tight jeans back on.
The (don’t click this link at work… and no, I am NOT sharing a picture of my own vag with the world) vertical clitoral hood piercing is the Best. Piercing. Ever. It’s incredibly fast healing, non-traumatizing, and has minimal problems. Some people have sex the day after and are just fine, no pain. And… it gives direct stimulation to your clit, making orgasms easier to achieve, more intense, etc.
So now I’ll answer the question… why the hell did you do it?
I have good reason, I promise.
I think piercings are beautiful, and I wanted to do something for myself so that I could better see my nether-regions as a lovely, beautiful part of my body.
My vagina has been through hell. Surgery, scarring, rupturing glands, abuse, trauma, natural childbirth, severe tearing, stitches, horrible scar tissue all the way up, a second natural childbirth that ruined the once-severed muscle, three different kinds of prolapse, and several months of physical therapy to make using the bathroom possible, avoid surgery (at least for the short-term), and make sex something even somewhat enjoyable. Because after baby #2, it was anything but a good time.
Finally, acceptance.
Acceptance that although I feel like my vagina has been destroyed and pathetically pieced back together like an ill-fit puzzle, it really isn’t the hideous monster I keep thinking it is. When I finally started to be able to realize this, I wanted to add the vertical hood piercing to remind myself that despite everything it has been through, it is a beautiful part of my body, and I should be proud of it.
Seeing the sparkly little gem peeking through the top of my hoo-haw catch the light from the skylight in the bathroom makes me grin. It really does look absolutely beautiful to me.
Also, I am excited about the fact that it’s supposed to make orgasming easier. Sadly, although at one time I used to be able to hit the big O as fast as a guy, it’s been fairly difficult to hit it this past year. That’s a result of a couple different things. First of all, the fact that I’ve spent the last year absolutely despising my vagina in the way only an OCD nutcase can possibly understand has put me in a bad place mentally. Then there are all the physical issues I’ve had post-baby. Relationship problems. And the Prozac.
Unfortunately, while the Prozac is probably responsible for me being alive, it does have the shitty side-effect of making orgasms a bit more difficult to achieve for many people. I don’t know if it’s a placebo effect or if I happen to fall into that category, but I’ve just finally had to recently admit to myself that I truly have had some issues in that department during this last year. Although I would like to say that when I do orgasm, it’s still much, much stronger and better than it was before I had kids.
So there you have it. I pierced my clitoral hood, and I just told the internet all about it.
And I’ll let you know how it does in the orgasm department. So far, it feels pretty good having it there, and I haven’t even touched it except to clean it.
Boy, I can’t wait to have sex again.
Current Mood:
Cool
Mexican food made by real Sonoran Mexicans just may be the best tasting thing ever… but the gas for days on end after indulging in a mountain of lard-beans will kill you and everything within a 30-foot radius of your colon.
It was worth it. But I am very, very ready for my digestive tract to get back to normal.
Current Mood:
Alarmed