Which brings me to today’s post them of “Other People’s Kink”  or in other words what I’ve been reading this week when not staring at huge stack of paper filled with numbers and other economic pornography.

First off one of my newer regular stops is WykD Dave & his Rope Topia with its great tutorials. Ok if watching tying video’s that are not performance based was a fetish I’d qualify but also be sure to register and check out the galleries.  While on the topic the site’s proprietor also runs a separate blog WykD which is also worth the time to take a look.   It’s seems that failing to mention Kinky Clover and her site as part of the mix would be an oversight.  In short more sexy pics and a model’s insight, as an added bonus she was the author of the rope bottom’s guide that seemed to be a hot topic a few months back.

Originally when I woke up today and thought oh fuck I need to write something I figured I’d write a spanking fiction story since it’s been literally years since I’ve done that.  Then I read Jade’s There Ain’t No Halvsies in Caning piece and figured I’d tell you if you’re in the mood for spanking just got read her piece.  It’s not fiction and gets to the point; plus doing so would save me the creative pains of having to try to be inventive arousing and not cliché.

Erica Scott was probably the first spanking model whose name I knew.  Somewhere years ago I happened across some of her work and kind of dug her.   So I watched more then as the world would have it with the internet I went on to different sites, expanded my kink repertoire, and somewhere along the way forgot to look for her new stuff (which is out there as recently as a spanking court clip from this year).  The best part of rediscovering her is she’s still sexy and her blog is an eclectic mix of her thoughts, relationships, the bull shit come on she endures, and of course a bit of spanking.  All in all nice kink family entertainment.

Need a little different kind of visual stimulation.  Stop by my old friend the Naked Nurse for her self imposed photo challenge this month. Considering the only holiday card still up anywhere in my house is hers I may be a little biased.  Still I’ll be there watching her bare little pieces of her soul and flesh all month long.

I decided to take a walk down memory lane something somewhere made me think of Radical Vixen and the old days of sugasm.  The I got to thinking before there was fetlife and when the internet was new and exciting where did I find my kink based porn.  For me it all started with Persian Kitty…which still exists and seems much more commercial and link farmish than it use to but hey we all have to evolve in our own ways.  Then there was BDSM Café which doesn’t seem to have changed much.  In the early years of online spanking porn they provided more than their fair share of my night time reading to friends and lovers.  Castle Handyman looks to be long since gone but I was pleasantly surprised to find Daria’s Screaming Eagle Story from the old Wulfrum site still online.  (Which I’d swear was from another site originally, maybe Daria’s Corner was a subset of )    There’s not a time when I play with a woman dressed as a cheerleader (yes I know the story was about basketball players) that I don’t think of bits of that old story.  It’s funny what stays with you even in a rope infused stage of life.  Once a spanko always a spank I guess.

Speaking of Rope the two other things I’ve read with more interest and intent than I care to admit is Midori’s post on her incident during a recent performance (the debate and response are what I find most curious)  and even prior to that the Rope Incident group on Fet.  A friend asked me if the Midori accident would cause me to rethink my bondage practices.   The answer is yes but what I need to rethink is different than many because I don’t do suspensions.   It’s placement, tightness, communication, ok perhaps not so different just a different set of risks.  Don’t get me wrong I love to see suspensions, admire the photographs, watch the videos, and in a way I’m a student of the art.   But I’ve chosen not to go there because of my own concern about the risk against my skills and the reward.  For the time being no bed post or chair is safe but I won’t be considering new hard points and tripods again anytime soon.   I’ll stick to driving fast on occasion, doing cardio, dating married women, and visiting NYC as my higher risk activities.

Finally A GQ article on how porn has fucked up straight sex for the under 30 crowd.  No opinion other than perhaps the Nillas should work on their communication skills and hard limits prior to partaking too.

If there is something you’re reading that you think I’d like drop me a line, comment, or @reply on twitter and I’ll be sure to check it out.

Have a fun weekend.  As for me I’ll be spending part of it chasing fast women before heading to the land of strip joints, tourist traps, and the symbol of an evil corporation next week.

First off Facebook. When someone is blocked you can not see them and they can not see you. Being so you are also unable to “poke” a blocked person. If one unblocks a person of course you can poke them however you must wait 24 hours to block them once again if needed. As for said poke….a poke will sit on your page until you delete it or poke them back. Therefore every time you go on your page said initial poke will still be sitting there starring you in the face. No it is not a new one! Believe me I have tried to poke peeps more than once…..epic fail as you receive a message stating this person has not received previous poke. Believe I have made my point on that one so moving on.

Phone calls…..one must have your phone number to call you! Like d’uh! Now if you are brain damaged enough to have your number public on somewhere like Facebook that is your issue not mine. One might need to turn down the paranoia level a bit if they believe every single peep on their page bothers to look at their info and take down phone numbers and/or email address. That said you may want to make such info visible to only you. It is an option on Facebook!

Now for the technology challenged such as myself. Apparently there is an option on cell phones so that when you make a call your number shows up as “unknown” or “restricted”. Don’t ask me how to do that being I have no use for such options and therefore do not know how to do it. Hell took me 2 months to find my GPS on my phone and still can’t get the bitch to talk to me. I have a long standing history of easily killing comps, phones, and now apparently tv’s as my little 22 inch is possessed and has to be unplugged in order to stay turned off. Yep my special gift.

Now that being said if one is getting repeated calls from an “unknown” number it is easy enough to fix it. First off stop answering the calls!!! Like d’uh d’uh d’uh! If they continue you can report it to your phone service and there are ways it can be tracked. Even Google numbers can be tracked.

That concludes today’s public service announcements. Any questions, comments, or concerns please feel free to comment below. Whining will not be tolerated and any sexual harassment is not only welcome but will be graded.

~Alice King~2012~

I hate busses but in general like Subway trains or in this case modern street cars.  The first thing to shock me was no turnstiles.  Another first for me.  I joked about it in a tweet but this was unfathomable to a native east coast guy.  Guess the little red box to validate your ticket system works.   Yeah for honesty!

At first it was unremarkable as my youngest and I waited for the train to leave she read me the witches best line from Macbeth.  In many ways the entire adventure was ironic in a near Shakespearean way.  I’ve run all over NYC for 25 years on subways and have no anxiety about it but figuring out where to get on and get off in little old St. Louis gave me more than momentary pause.  Stations get passed by from time to time due to maintenance or “security issues”.  My first ride on the metrolink featured one of those and enough crime scene tape at the Rock Road stop to be on a TV crime drama.  So there is another first…crime scene tape and a brigade of guys with badges and guns doing some type of mop up operation.  I later learned that station security had shot a man he believed was pulling a weapon during an argument.

A little while and several stops later we disembarked the now fairly full train at the union station stop.   Which to my complete and utter surprise was not underground.  Walking out of the valley where the station was created the wafting stench of weed hung heavily in the cold air for the next quarter block.  Do I think weed should be illegal?  Nope but given the fact that it is and it seemed to be a regular stench there I could only come to one conclusion. That they were burning confiscated material inside the post office across the way and venting it out to the street. (Yes I know that isn’t what was happening but it’s better than stating that I suspect all our mail men were sparking up a blunt now isn’t it.)

As we made our way to Union Station it became a short but utterly depressing trek.   In the late 80’s I remember being there when it was new and vibrant with an old lover.  The place was bustling and crowded even on the warm spring afternoon.  Perhaps I‘ve not aged well either but think I’ve held up a little more than this downtown section.  Now it’s all but abandon, yet another failed downtown revival experiment.  Oh sure there is an assortment of eclectic little shops, a patron-less food court and no other souls in sight at 5:00 in the afternoon.   Jesus one would think the place should have been bustling not a living embodiment of Zombie land.  The stand alone restaurants on the perimeter looked to have a bit of early dinner business, most of which I would assume was tied to the Blues game a few hours away.  That’s when it hit me.  I’ve lived here for 9 years, I’ve slept in the city on only 3 or 4 different occasions (excluding Clayton).  When back east I would sleep downtown 6-10 times a year on a slow year.  Most years twice that amount.   Life was different in a lot of ways.  I would plan a date night and spend the entire evening in the city walking from the hotel to dinner, to clubs, to shows, and bars before heading back in the middle of the night to collapse in a huddled mass.  I still miss my office in the city, lunchtime shopping, having a myriad of non chain restaurants to haunt.   The Theaters, Oprea, Symphony, and Ballet are all in downtown Pittsburgh, businesses, clubs, and eateries have sprung up around them.  Where Liberty Avenue was literally only filled with Junkies and Whores is now dissected with the cultural district and theater goers, businessmen and their mistresses out on the town.  Granted these are just a better class of junkies and whores.  Don’t get me wrong it’s not Disney and it’s not there isn’t crime after all it’s a city.  Still St. Louis has its cultural district scattered relying on the newly opened Peabody Opera house (which appears not to have any opera’s scheduled) and sporting events to draw people into town.  BTW you guys have a really weird opera schedule around here.

Later my two other girls (the Chesty Blonde & Diva) joined us we made our way from the hotel to the hockey game.

After the game ended and we went back to our room and the girl’s wanted to go out to eat. I thought they should stay in.   I had no interest in gong out since I had to repeat my trek on the train back to the airport in the morning to fly out of town.  Sorry to be a bit damming here but had it been NYC I wouldn’t have flinched had they wanted to walk pretty much anywhere in the 40’s & 50’s between Lex and 9^th ave perhaps even up into the 70’s would be ok.  I rarely go above 59^th unless led there by a beautiful woman who seems capable of very dirty proclivities or a nut job cyclist friend who lives on 96^th.  The fact they wanted to walk75 yards across an empty parking lot in downtown St. Louis gave me serious pause.  I worried about their safety, about enough other people being around, etc.   Guess I’m just that fucked up.

It’s sad but the city streets of places like Cincinnati, and St. Louis aren’t as safe as NY or even sections of San Fran.  I walk in their business districts without hesitation in the mid west there is an edge larger cities have lost.  In fact I have had more pan handlers hustlers and the like accost me in small cities in the past 2 years than I have in Gotham in the last 15.  Sure I can go to Delmar or hide in Clayton shuffling from the Ritz to where ever but that’s not really city living.  The fact remains that unless these towns find a way to draw people into an area, people who will live and work and shop there the future only holds more failed revitalization attempts.  Taxes should incent people to consider city living not discourage it.  Yes schools need to be fixed, crime needs to be lowered, and drugs need to be kept in check.   The way to this solution is not more legislation and policy it is true private economic development .

In fairness to the region I do enjoy parts of Washington Ave on warm evenings because in a strange and strained way it reminds me of parts of Brooklyn in my youth, whenever I get the chance I slide toward Shameless Grounds to grab a cup of coffee on the go (a small sign of support for a concept I think is worthwhile) with out a second thought or fear, recently while driving through part of south city I felt like I was back home in Shadyside with the houses and mature trees.   Not all of this region is suburban wasteland or a crime riddled dicey city streets but enough of it is that even 9 years later I’m reminded that I’m an outsider and the hidden gems here are hard to find and seemingly few and far between.   I would love to live a more metropolitan lifestyle again but barring some IPO found riches I doubt I would pony up for one of the houses I lust for near Forest park and that my metropolitan dreams will happen in a different geography down the road.

~Alice King~2012~

One of the books I listened to was an English translation of the Japanese author Haruki Murakami’s 1Q84.   I recommended the audio version to Jade through a tweet.   I loved the audio version so much I went and bought a print copy and essentially re read it.   Along came the holiday season and as I went through my list of what to give to who originally there were 8 copies of 1Q84 with names next to it (6 female & 2 male).   On a flight back to from the west coast I fell into a conversation with the woman next to me and she asked how the book was.  Citing articles and growing praise she had read as a reason to get a copy for herself.   I knew nothing of the woman, her life, or beliefs so I answered honestly but guarded.  “It’s really great but there is a theme of violence toward women and some sexual content that may be a little offensive and edgy to some people.”  She quickly shifted the topic to her church group activities…not a good subject for me but I smiled and nodded.

I had made a seemingly good call but why did I feel the need to go there? (SPOILER ALERT – well kind of) In fact there was a recurring and disturbing theme of nonconsensual violence toward women; in a lot of ways that did make me uncomfortable.  Hell it’s a main theme and the female lead was killing men who abused their spouses.  There is a few fairly harmless descriptions of causal lesbian encounters. A Gay body guard.   So what? I think I have more Gay and Bi friends than I could actually count.   The reality is none of these things is why I considered the book potentially objectionable in my conversation with a stranger.  It was because of the theme of religion and its “Leader’s” relations with underage girls.  Later in the novel it was explained these “girls’ were creations of the “Little People” and not literally human…that offered a semi socially acceptable explanation but little moral consolation for the practice.   So while many of the previous topics were potentially offensive to a lot of American’s it was that one topic that crossed a social and moral boundary for me in the course of polite conversation.

At one point while listening I had told the Chesty Blonde that I wonder if he was American if the book would have been published with such strong themes, or if it could have been a best seller here without being renowned elsewhere.   She looked at me and informed me that it’s not exactly “normal” to have a collection of Erotica and Bondage books in the same set of shelves and presidential memoirs, Shakespeare and Vonnegut driving home the concept that all sorts of books get published here despite my paranoid anti censorship beliefs.

I of course corrected her that the Bondage books were in fact housed with the economic and political theory tomes. To me arranging books in that manner was intended as a nod to the line from the Rodney Dangerfield movie Back to School and the line about the “Proletarian Chicks in Bondage”.   It’s an eclectic subtly that escapes most people who peruse my collection. It looks something like Greenspan, Henry Paulsen, Mises, Midori, Bastiat, the Two Knotty Boys,  etc. now back to the topic at hand.

As I thought about 1Q84 and its themes I slowly began to remove people from my holiday list who would be getting the book.  Not because I thought any less of it but because of the potentially offensive topics.  Most friends ended up with other books.  I feel the words prude and hang ups looming in the future.

Why would I recommend to a twitter acquaintance a book that when in person I advised a level of caution against and removed real life mostly vanilla friends from getting the book as a gift.   This is one question I’ve repeatedly asked myself.  After much internal debate I think I finally have an answer.  It’s because in a sense I felt I knew Jade.  Not in the traditional literal sense of  “oh yes we just came from the nicest pot luck down at the Legion” but from her online persona.  More or less it’s wasn’t just because I know she’s kinky but because I know she writes.  Foolishly or otherwise I know I censor myself far less in the presence of people I know are creative.  

After all I still sent a copy to my friend Victoria; who as fate would have it is a writer and artsy type (Scandinavian Lit and Drama Grad degrees) who I send kink and sex based things to every now and then.   The reality is though she was a safe bet.  I’ve sent far more lurid things of my own to her for feedback and editing.  I told my mother and sister they should get a copy and read it …they both refer to me as a pornographer in their own way though.

So am I prude? If I don’t know you odds are I’ll seem that way…after all we can’t fly our freak flag all the time not only is it wrong but it’s exhausting.  If I know you’re not necessarily mainstream you’re far more likely to get an unfiltered honest answer from me.

Now on a side note if you catch me at a pot luck with Wendy Whitebread fucking kill me.

Malflic - fliping the world the bird since the thrid grade

Consider this fair warning about what corporations are doing online to “protect their brand” and also it’s a bit of a rant.   Ironically it’s not tied to the fascist legislation that is SOPA and PiPa.  Don’t think your government fears you then think again because while big media is pushing these bills the UN was debating similar yet more drastic versions of them to avoid having what happened in the Arab spring happen to their regimes.  Information is power and they know it.  Now back to the original point of this post.   Corporate overreach and censorship.

Corporations love social media when people are saying great things about them.  Call into to question a practice market, trend, or anything negative and the great ones work to respond and address or perhaps even fix the problem.  The bad ones cast dispersions and rattle sabers.

Perhaps the saber rattling is effective if someone fears you, has something to lose, or remotely is afraid of lawyers.   This tactic although is probably a bad idea if the guy you are trying to rattle could give a fuck…enter my wing tip wearing ass.  My birth name was recently subtly (and semi privately) accused of violating not my employer’s social media policy but one of a large corporation we do transact business with.  What atrocity did I commit?  Did I slander them?  Nope! Did I leak NDA material or trade secrets?  Nope! Did I cause material harm?  Nope!  I commented on a news story that was published by a 3^rd party research firm that appeared in a news feed I maintain to monitor certain trends in a closed door meeting and alerted my own senior management of the publication.

I understand that everything said on the net can be tracked, traced etc…Big Brother is real and we feed him everything we do with increasingly alarming detail.

My original conversation on the topic however occurred within a closed door meeting and then I asked a few others to look to some of the assumptions and suppositions in the piece or published research.  I then shared those assumptions externally under an existing mutual NDA.   Did those individuals talk to their senior execs, their own business analysts, and their own staff about that data?  I have to assume they did by the shit storm that was created.  All of which was fine under the agreement.  They didn’t disclose anything that wasn’t already out there (In plain English I’m not suing anyone for breach). Did they then link to and comment on the original source of the material in a public forum and on profiles and feeds?  Yes.  Was the information they linked to in the public domain?  Yes.  Was it flattering to said corporation?  Not in the least.  Was it accurate? That is the basis of a great amount of legitimate industry debate but let me put it this way.  How many wagon wheel vendors are still a big deal?   They are facing the very same problem.  Their entire segment is.   That very opinion is where the problem and panic lies.

Did I asked or encourage them to do so?  Not at all but when the big bad wolf came calling they were happy to admit I had been engaged in conversations on the topic. Guess what the buck stops here.  Never give an unstable psycho with a flame thrower a few drums of flammable liquid to throw about.

If you didn’t like what I had to say there just wait.

1)      I don’t work for you, I did not violate any of my own corporations policies, I did not comment using my professional credentials, as an insider, or in any way breach an agreement.  The short answer so fucking sue me.  I simply questioned and ultimately agreed with a publicly published report by an industry analyst on a market segment in general.  Sorry dude but dinosaurs are dead and your glory days are long gone.

2)      As a private investor I am entitled to my opinion whether your corporation likes it or not.  Perhaps I owned shares of one of your companies pre acquisition. Perhaps I still own just a little piece of your half assed firm.  So take your online reputation and brand management tools and shove them up your ass.  I have yet begun to tell the world what I really think.  Prepare for the barrage of shit I can and will dish out.

3)      I am not a trader, banker or in a regulated role.  I did not see you bitching when I referred to your successes, public filings, or other material.   See my fat white ass…you can kiss it. No more positive press from me in anyway, anywhere, ever.  When you go down in flames and there is a fire sale I’ll be just another the fat fuck in good suit laughing and pointing while screaming I told you so.

4)       Look at your own financials.  Those of us who passed freshman year accounting know it’s bad, people with a 401k and ability to read basic financial statements can see your debt load is unserviceable in the near future despite your projected margin increases even before you consider your eroding market share and competitive losses.   If you don’t like that accusation I’d be happy to provide you with a litany of regulated and private industry analysts who more or less feel the same.  BTW I’d buy unsecured Greek debt before any of your paper as it stands.

5) You claimed I published the information using my social media streams.  Then back tracked when it was proved I never commented on it electronic other than in private correspondence.  First off get your facts straight.  You are not the only one who can read a twitter stream, publicly available face book posts or linked in statuses.  Really your desperation is embarrassing.  You came across like a desperate (and psychotic)  ex lover calling all my friends to try to influence me rather than asking me directly what happened and why I held my opinions.  Of course you didn’t really want to talk to me since I would have pointed at your filings and asked why I was wrong.   After all you’re not the only ones in the world with slick as shit finance guys and an MBA.

OK I’m done. I’ve made my point.  “NOW RELEASE THE HOUNDS”

It started pleasantly enough.  A few moments later though it was not a discussion of stride mechanics, shoe types or hydration rather it was a through inquisition of my training and recent races.  “You’re not running hard” she insinuated.  She was right I was building distance and not pace for the past 12 weeks.  “When was the last time you did any real speed work?”  she asked very directly.   I had no clue, maybe a year and then it was only 3 or 4 times so I could start skating hard.   When was the last time you actually ran a race series for time not for fun?  Never I told her which was in part a lie. I’d run races for time but rarely a complete series because I often had the kids along on the shorter distance.    As she started into the program and it’s philosophies she asked if I had any questions.  Other than if I should have a safe word and expect visits from Pukey the Clown came to mind but both of which I kept to myself. Instead my question was simple.  If I went through the testing they would then tell me how fast and how far to run every day for the next three months.  Correct?   “Yes” she stated and I was fine with that, it is what I was paying for.    Usually I’m a control freak but on this topic I want it all laid out for me.  I’ll follow it to the letter and drive like hell or let death finally win along the way should the bitch goddess of cardio vascular salvation decide to betray me.

Then my new coach started talking about my expected race times…that’s when I regretted not asking about a safe word.   Oh well if it works and I hit the pace in question it will all be worth it.   It’s just kind of weird that I went from having hulking violent male coaches and instructors push me beyond my physical limits for years and traded them all in for a petite woman in tights who wants me to shave 15 minutes off my time which sounds far more challenging than anything anyone has ever asked me to do before.  The good news is its all underway and the pieces are falling into place so next up the back cracker (which until now I’ve had in the same category as a shrink), orthopedist (who knows me and knows I’m off kilter), PT assessment (flexibility, what flexibility?…I’ve never met a yoga instructor who I couldn’t make cry) and finally the dietician who as long as she doesn’t fuck with my coffee we’ll get along fine.

Over a month ago I started planning a date night for me and the Chesty Blonde.  A week later I told her we’d have a special night coming up soon.  You could see a hint of what the hell is he up to this time in her eyes.

A week later I gave her the date of the planned evening.  After a long inquisitive look she shrugged indicating “well ok since I don’t really have a choice”

Last weekend I told TCB what time we’d have to leave.  Monday I sent her a calendar invite which I had never done for anything before along with an included dress code of Sexy Cocktail Dress and Heels. Specifying a dress code is so not my style but I informed her I’d be wearing a dark suit with no tie (yeah I know shocking).

My bet is she thought she knew the plan figuring I was going to take her out to a favorite restaurant in the city (the one with the dress code I described).  Two days later though I sent her a list of names of six other couples.  First names only, none of which she knows. I could feel her nerves building as we chatted after I got home from Gotham.   She was in that “I think I’m not going to like this and you’re a dick space”  so I did what all sadistic jerks would, swatted her on the ass, kissed her, and went off to go to sleep. Well the truth is I asked if she wanted to know at one point n the middle of that night.  She opted not to.  And to think she claims not to be a masochist.  Still seeing her a getting a little more nervous it each passing hour after all these years is still fun, hopefully she’ll have a great time.

So here’s the back story.  I don’t know any of the couples either.  I don’t know if I’m going to like the night’s activity or not.   It will involve uncomfortable acts for both of us but none of which can’t be performed in public or would require a safe word.  Someone will have a hard time following directions to let the other person lead.  It’s a completely nilla outing but I never indicated that and let her assume the worst.  We’re going to dinner and dancing lessons night out.   If you see me sometime soon perhaps I’ll be salsa or tangoing by…but most likely not.  What’s the worst thing that can happen I prove once again there are things in this world I’m not properly equipped for? So what.  I’m just looking forward to having an entire night with the Chesty Blonde all to myself.

She’s been elusive all day, she’s been shopping and trying things on again and again.  when I put my boots on to go out a few hours ago I could tell she was semi anxiously watching my every move.  My allegedly covert mission was to grab some cash and a few other necessities like a cup of coffee.   As I type I can hear her heels clicking above my head as she wonders what shoes to wear.  I know she mentioned to Diva she hopes like hell I didn’t sign her up for “some pole dancing class”. So she’ll twitch a little more when we pull up to a dance studio which is something I hadn’t planned for.

Am I a dick enjoying all the worry and prepping?   Probably but its part of my charm.

I set this to post after we’ve left the house for the night.  If you’re reading it on the day it posted odds are we’re engaged in these very disturbing acts right now.   If you’ve never seen me dance you’d know why I say disturbing.

This week I found myself sleeping with a splendid view of Park Ave.   Right off the bat there should be something wrong with that sentence.  I was in NY and am talking about sleeping?   After all I was there and saw some of my closest friends, ate at amazing (and completely over priced restaurants) and ordered a single cocktail that stunned me with a price tag of 37 fucking dollars.   None of those reasons are why I actually went to sleep though.

After a good meal and a run in with a coat check Nazi we headed out to Campbell’s Apartment which is a regular about to go out haunt for me.  Other than a bias against cashmere head coverings but not Jazz musician and rap mogul style caps the crowd was hip and beautiful even at 9 at night.   The staff was stunning with their 20’s style black dresses and pearly necklaces.  The diet coke was cold, the cosmo’s I’m told were just right and the tall doubles poured very stiff.

From there we descended into the night into a few other establishments that looked like they were straight out of the movies.   Ironically I was rocking a colorful shit and exotic leather shoes.  The place was littered with an amazing assortment of tall, exceedingly thin beautiful women.  It should have been my kind of party.  After all a 7-1 women to men type ratio should have put me into a feeding frenzy…but it didn’t.   Perhaps I had gone fagola (yes that is an offensive Mel Brooks “Men in Tights” reference so what).   Not the case, it was simply we ran in different circles.

I work hard not to stereotype but sometimes fashion model types really are dumb as a bag of hammers. I suppose it’s wrong of me to say but if the chic clothes fit your size 00 ass then wear them.  Granted at times I just don’t play the game well.   I didn’t want to play who has spent more lavishly on stupid things game, I could care less about your 23 year old Swedish Au Pair problems,  or the possible violation of international law and using the term Swedish and the French word Au Pair in the sentence.  You get my drift I was just not in the mood.

On this particular night I was not meeting any women of substance…at least not on the surface.   Perhaps I wasn’t in party mode but it proves even in my shallow world that pure bliss does not come by merely being surrounded by very well heeled people, over priced luxury everything, and far more beautiful women than is fair for any one man.   Then again after all I wasn’t looking for a tryst, my next Ex Wife, or to “discover” anyone.  All I wanted was a decent conversation about books, theater, wine, family, friends, religion, politics, or sovereign debt.   In the event I couldn’t have that eye candy wasn’t merely enough.  So I took my dark and twisted little soul back into the street, contemplated my options, hailed a cab and head back to my hotel where I opened the drapes, peered out at Park Ave, cracked my window to let the sounds of the city in and slept for 8 hours straight which for me is a rare treat.

I learned in the morning my friends returned to the hotel bar shortly after me, equipped with libations and a few books took up shop and talked well into the night.  I’m sorry I missed that part .

Not Diva you bunch of Pervs

Welcome to America where you’re “free”, but yet you cannot have boobs without being harassed? The past few times I have gone to get pictures taken for ID’s or family photos, every photographer has had something to say about my chest, as if it is any of their business. As a 17 year old girl the last thing you want to do is be criticized, especially when it’s by grown men and women staring at your boobs or making snide comments about how your body looks in your own clothes. Seeing the fact that I am 17 you may think that I am a party girl that is hormone crazed and cannot focus on anything except for boys. When in fact, it the situation happens to be the exact opposite. My choices are not based on religion but on personal morals, I believe in having fun, however to be allowed to play you need to put in the work first. This year will be my senior year and by the time I graduate I will have a GPA that is at least a 4.0 if not higher, I have attended both the American Legion Women’s Auxiliary Girl’s State program and a highly competitive Pre Med Camp.  Three months ago while still a junior I already started receiving academic scholarship offers, I hold top positions in both National Honors Society and FCCLA, and I am also on our school’s Student Council.

Would you still like to be so quick to judge me for having boobs? Now, let us talk about my body since everybody else feels the need to do it for me. I am not your little stick figure girl, I am 5’5 with an athletic build that just happens to include HIPS, an ASS, and BOOBS. I am in no way denying that I do and I am proud, I can work with what I am given because natural beauty says more than plastic or make-up. Sure, you probably caught yourself picturing me in booty shorts, tight tank tops, or plenty of other ill-fitting clothes. Yet, the stores I shop at are White House Black Market, New York & Company, Express, and yes I do admit I own Buckle jeans or an American Eagle top, but my point is I am not going out to buy provocative or teenage clothes.  I dress like an adult; a conservative adult at that. Maybe that is what throws people off so much is that I look and act a lot older than I appear so those making comments about my boobs feel it is acceptable, but I still do not see it.

Now that you have some background, let’s talk about the real dirty details, last Monday I went to my senior orientation. Wow, senior year, how exciting! Yet it was a real buzz kill when I was getting my ID picture, taken in a sundress and tank top that covered ALL of my chest/cleavage, to be told by my photographer that I was dressed too sexually. How convenient, pick on the girl who is not a stick figure and has curves, while other girls are hanging out of their shorts.  Yet the anorexic looking girls who have boobs were not harassed, the cheerleaders were not harassed, and the kids they knew on a personal basis were not harassed. Yeah thank God we are all supposed to be equals, what a joke.

So I cannot get my school picture taken, while wearing a full coverage size 36D bra, a sports bra over it, and a tank top that covers all of my cleavage, yet the girls who wear push-up bras in particularly size A and B have no problem. Makes absolutely no sense to me, but on another note let me tell you a funny story to wrap things up a little bit. Within the past few months I went to get a picture taken wearing flip-flops, jeans that fit properly, and a long, flowing, black & white top that was three quarters length sleeves and gave me a nice shape. The photographer wanted me to take a picture with this hideous looking brown chest, and my mom politely asked her if we could do fewer pictures with the chest. The small built photographer with almost a concave chest automatically had to assume the chest meant my boobs not the hideous thing she was trying to pose me with. After her little comments, my mood was ruined and I was done, I could not even go get pictures taken to give to our family without someone making comments about my body.

You always know those people who are self-conscious or are unable to see their natural beauty like outsiders can. Plenty of girls in high school alone talk about getting breast implants as soon as they turn 18, and the crazy thing is that their parents are willing to pay for this so they look and feel better before college. Dr. Diana Zuckerman, president of the National Research Center for Women & Families, says, “An 18-year-old has a right to get breast implants, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. She’s still going to have changes in her body and changes in her emotional development that might make one very sorry about this decision.”  In America, only 20% of boob jobs are for reconstruction after breast cancer or for other medical purposes.

There are tons of the other beautiful girls and handsome boys that seem to have no problem with my appearance, but the self-conscious adult type that is hunched over in the corner or the person that does not have faith in him or herself ALWAYS has something to say. Keep your body issues to yourself and let me be happy how I am.

Editors note: This was originally written by Diva for another site back in August 2011.   With Body image being that challenge it is for so many people for all the wrong reasons  (meaning not health related) we felt cross posting in this case just made sense since the audiences probably don’t cross over at all.

On the issue of photographers and their hang ups we’ve found a solution with the help of Lily at Aja Rope who when asked made a wonderful recommendation for us. Diva will be working with him sometime in the spring when she claims she will be sporting “a new killer tat”.

-Mal