Nippy

Sinful Sunday #46

Winter is icummen in,

Lhude sing Goddamm,

Raineth drop and staineth slop,

And how the wind doth ramm!

Ancient Music – Ezra Pound

The temperature has definitely dropped over the last couple of days.

Time to start wearing a scarf.

cold

More Sinful Sunday here.

Sinful Sunday

Hair

Kink of the Week #12

Kink of the Week September 1-15: Hair

Woman with really long hair kink

Image courtesy of Maria Opens Up

We have done pubic hair so I thought maybe we should also talk about the hair on our heads. For future reference we will also do other body hair.

Long hair, short hair, bald heads, curly, straight, wavy, blonde, red, black, brown, dyed, bangs (fringe for the UK’ers) tied up, let loose. I could go on and on with words that describe hair but you get the picture. Our hair is as varied and different as we are and it rarely stays the same throughout our lives. How we have our hair changes with time, mood, fashions, health and sometimes even wealth. Just as how we style our hair can change, so can how we feel about it.

Is hair in any way shape or form a kink for you? Could be your own or your partners? Maybe you have a thing for really long hair, is gender specific or is your love of hair more important than someones genitals? Do you have a kink for your own hair? Perhaps you have a specific style that you do to portray a certain personality or role, such a fierce tight bun to make you look like a school mistress, or girly pigtails when you are feeling ‘little’. We have already done pigtails as a kink of their own but if that is your thing feel free to cover it for this topic.

Do you love having your hair touched? Is there something so sensual about a lover running their fingers through your hair that just does it for you? Or maybe you like things a bit rough. What about hair pulling? Fuck yes or hell no? Of course maybe you are the hair puller? What is it about grabbing a handful of locks and using it to control them that presses your buttons?

When it comes to a man’s hair I prefer short or shaved. It’s all to do with the texture, how it feels against my skin. Like stubble, I love the roughness of it. I don’t know if I’d go as far to call it a kink but I’m more likely to check out a guy if he has a shaved head rather than long hair.

My hair is yet another part of me I don’t like, no surprise there. My natural colour is a dull mousy browny blonde, it’s dead straight, thin and is constantly falling out. When I was younger I kept it at shoulder length, through my teens of course it was greasy, I had dandruff, just yuck. I cut it as short as I was allowed and was slightly happier about it. I’ve had it at different lengths over the years and dyed it now and again as I started getting grey hairs when I was 18. I would have loved to have been a redhead and for my hair to have some body to it. I’m not into styling it, never have been, I hate visiting the hairdresser and I don’t have the money or the inclination to spend fortunes on it. When it’s long I usually just keep it tied back. At least grease and dandruff aren’t a problem now, I have the opposite – dry hair and an irritable scalp, but I’ve finally found products that work, which is something.

I don’t like my hair being touched until it comes to sex. Hair pulling is definitely a kink of mine, that feeling of a hand wrapped in my hair, being controlled, it does it every time. Just don’t stroke it.

More Kink of the Week here.

 

Question

Does anyone out there know how to fight nothing?

One of the toughest things I find I’m dealing with is the feeling of emptiness. I feel numb most of the time, there’s nothing inside.

It’s strange. In general I feel OK, but still the emptiness is there and I don’t know what to do.

I’ve had a fairly busy (for me) couple of weeks getting the kids back to school and spending time with my family, I’ve worried, laughed, talked, been fed up and annoyed.

I don’t know how to feel anymore.

Not the post I wanted to write

I’ve been trying to write this post for 3 days, starting, stopping, deleting, starting again. It was supposed to be an explanation for the title of my Sinful Sunday post.

Blow-in – Irish phrase: A stranger or foreigner, basically anybody whose ancestors have not lived within sight of the parish church for at least ten generations.

I don’t know if it’s just an Irish phrase or it’s used in other places too, I’ve only heard it here.

Where I live I’m considered a blow-in, but I think I would be a blow-in wherever I went. At least I would feel like one. The majority of my ancestors are from Wicklow/Kildare on my mum’s side and Galway/Cork on my dad’s, and although I still have family on the East coast it’s not home.

I was born and grew up in London, and while I still like to visit sometimes, that doesn’t feel like home either. Growing up Catholic in mainly C of E areas, going to a Catholic school in a different area, having two sets of friends. And the same through secondary school, meant I never felt as if I really fitted anywhere. I didn’t have many friends and those few I did have I wouldn’t class as close, certainly not BFF’s. I grew up learning how to be my own BFF. On the whole this didn’t actually bother me that much, I often preferred to spend my time reading or drawing anyway. I just think maybe it would have been nice to have had a few close friends.

This was as far as I got.

I know the things I want to write, but I can’t get the words down on the screen.

When I wrote about not having friends, even though I know all these things, seeing it in black and white like that on the screen, everything sort of crystallised. How shitty my early teens really were, how shitty most of my life has been. I’ve never done the girly sleepovers, make-up, shopping, talking about boys or any of those things so many people take for granted as a part of growing up. Now I have my little sister to do that sort of thing with.

I have had some good friends over the years, but never for long. Outside of my family I’d never felt wanted or needed, I’ve always felt like an outsider, always looking in. No surprise that I’d look for any type of affection from anyone. I’ve had boyfriends, but I was never the popular one, not the pretty one, I was chubby, short and I didn’t like anything much about myself. When I got older it wasn’t difficult, on the rare occasions I went out, to get drunk and hopefully find some randomer to fuck.

Over the last few years, being single, doing the various courses and actually having people ask my opinion about things, having real support, and finally being more open with others about my mental health, my relationship with my ex and whatever else I wanted to talk about have helped so much. I have slightly more self confidence and I know I’m not totally worthless.

I haven’t written about the things I had planned to write about but that doesn’t really matter. What matters to me about this is that I’ve confronted another piece of my life that I’ve ignored. I don’t know exactly what to do with it, but it’s out there now, I’ve acknowledged it.

And I’ll say again, having this space and finding such a supportive community is hugely important. And even though I still feel like a bit of a blow-in, at least I know that here I can be me. Maybe one day I’ll feel like I really belong somewhere.

Beauty, blogging, blow-ins and belonging

Sinful Sunday #44

And as it’s the first Sunday of the month that makes it prompt week. This week’s prompt is the letter B

Another post for Self Love September.

This isn’t the photo I had planned on originally and as Sinful Sunday is all about the image, you’ll have to wait a couple of days for a full explanation, but for now I want to say that belonging to this blogging community has taught me to see so much beauty in everyone, including myself.

B is for

More Sinful Sunday here.

Sinful Sunday

Thoughts on sex, intimacy and validation.

Self Love September

I’ve done an awful lot of thinking over recent weeks. This has mainly been because of the sessions I’ve had with the psychiatric team over the last couple of months – trying to figure out why this bout of depression has lasted for so long.

I haven’t discussed anything about sex or kink, but just thinking about other things means I think about it anyway and sometimes something as simple as reading a quote can be enough to make a connection.

Last week I read a post by Kayla Lords where she talks about true intimacy and I pretty much agreed with everything she said (you can read it here).

And yet, despite all the sex I’ve had, and all the things I’ve done and had done to me, that level of intimacy just makes me uncomfortable. No matter how things go there’s always, always a little niggle in the back of my mind, I think it’s because I find there is a definite line between personal and sexual intimacy. Personal for me would include cuddles, holding hands, having someone stroke my hair, showers/baths, brushing my  teeth, going to the loo, even getting dressed. And not just with someone I happen to be fucking. If I need my hair cut or dyed my sister does it (and not that often), my biggest nightmare would be a spa/pampering weekend (shudder). I don’t want massages or foot rubs either. It makes me uncomfortable when someone buys me something or gives me a gift, they probably mean well but I’d prefer it if they didn’t. I think that’s why I have issues with Xmas and birthdays. I don’t want romance, flowers, jewellery or any of that sort of thing (chocolate is OK as long as it’s a bar of something dark).

And I think I’ve finally figured out why some of this is. When it comes to men I really don’t want relationships, not what most people mean by a relationship anyway. I’ve never wanted to get married, even when I was younger I didn’t dream of a big white wedding, a house, kids and happily ever after. Having to share my space, thoughts or time with someone else. It makes me uncomfortable to spend more than a couple of days in someone else’s house, even family, and I don’t like having other people stay in mine. I’ve only ever lived with one person and I hated it. Hated everything that comes with living in one place with the same person. Especially when I didn’t even want to be with that person. I wanted to travel, go where I wanted, do what I wanted and not be tied to someone else.

Sex, for me, has always been a desperate need for validation, that someone does find me attractive, sexy, and wants me, not a need to share my life with someone. When they like me too much it puts me off, I don’t want to spend time with them. I know that’s one of things I’ve complained about when it comes to Irish men, that they don’t want to see you, except for drunk sex. And yet when the odd one has kept in touch it annoys me. Most of the sex I’ve had has been in the other person’s house and I usually leave as soon as possible, if I do fall asleep it’ll be as far away from them as possible in the bed. I’m not a snuggler. It was only during my last relationship I liked sleeping with his arms around me or holding hands went we went out.

The problem of course is that when your idea of worth comes from another’s validation, when you lose that you go back to feeling shitty again and on and on it goes. People find it hard to believe that I really don’t want to look for someone else. I did try a couple of online sites and if I got a message the thought of talking to someone, getting to know enough about each other to maybe meet up made me feel ill, so I’ve given up for now. I don’t know if things will change, and at the moment I think I really need to just concentrate on me, figure out how and why I feel the way I do before I think about whether I actually want anyone else in my life. I need to learn how to value me instead of relying on someone else to tell me what I’m worth, nor do I have the desire to have to worry about all the other stuff that goes with spending time with someone (including using the bathroom).

Right now when I think about the future, when the kids have finally all gone, all I want is a proper, little thatched Irish cottage, (not a modernised one) somewhere on the west coast of Ireland and to be left alone to do what I want to do whether that includes someone else or not.