Last Tuesday morning birthday boy Exhibit A tweeted that his DMs were open for “allllllll your best nudes.” I giggled, wondered how many he’d get then thought nothing more of it. Shortly after midnight he tweeted a thank you. I suddenly realised that not only had I not sent him a birthday nude but it had not even occurred to me to do so.
I am a very bad sender of sexy nudes. I’m an excellent taker and editor of arty farty flattering nudes. I’m on the money when it comes to adding flourish and humour to photos. I’ll make sure my friends and I have so much fun being naked that we forget about the bits of ourselves we don’t like. But I hardly ever just grab the camera to take a candid shot of naked me to send a partner or lover, to let them know I’m thinking about them or to turn them on.
Don’t get me wrong, I do send partners nudes, but it’s always just an advance viewing of one that’s going to be on a blog. And even if it’s for their eyes only, it’s still always slightly curated and edited. In short I send them the photos of me that I like, not the unfiltered unedited ones that are the real me, that would help them imagine they’re there with me. It’s ridiculous really. I’m not a shy naked person. When I’m with a partner I happily wander around with all the wobbles on show and I never feel the need to cover up when we hang out on the sofa after sex or sit and eat dinner. But when they’re with me they’ve got all of me – the whole package of what makes me me and my body is just part of that. When I’m sending a photo suddenly my body is a one dimensional thing captured in pixels and I’m less confident about my nudity. Which is why they get the same curated shots that the outside world gets. And that’s terrible because I’m demanding of their natural off the cuff nudes and I whine if I haven’t had any for a while.
So anyway, in the early hours of Wednesday morning I read Exhibit A’s thank you tweet, had a sudden flash of guilt about not sending him a birthday photo, sat bolt upright in bed and snapped three quick photos. I sent them along with an apology and a less wordy version of this post. The response was encouraging but also gently chastised me for continuing to think this negative shit. And you know what, I do like this photo. The natural me isn’t as bad in reality as it is in my head. I doubt you’ll see many photos like this on my blog. I like my arty farty funny style too much. But I am resolving to send partners more photos that are simply me.
“Lavender blue, dilly-dilly
If I were king, dilly-dilly, I’d need a queen…”
I’ve been sitting in a hammock doing some googling and I’ve learnt that dilly was a medieval word for ‘cheers’ but it’s also an obsolete word for delightful. And apparently Cleopatra used lavender as a tool of seduction, women used it to “inflame” their husbands and sex workers used it to attract clients. So there you go, some old etymology and some lessons in seduction. Oh, and here’s me and @19syllables naked in the lavender fields. Cheers! I hope we delight and seduce you!
“I’m just a little bit heiress, a little bit Irish
A little bit Tower of Pisa
Whenever I see ya
So please be kind, if I’m a mess“
Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk
Maybe I should have paid a bit more respect to when visiting a UNESCO World Heritage Site that sits on consecrated ground, but, well, you’ve got to be silly sometimes!
Not sure if I have really achieved soft focus here but at least you get a look at my super dark new bedroom walls. I suspect they may provide the backdrop to a few photos over the coming months. As will this cute grey velvet cocktail chair in the corner.
As you may have seen on Twitter, I’ve been staying at a friend’s this week helping her with her kids while her husband was away. It’s the second year I’ve done this. Both years I’ve been been blessed with good weather that encouraged me into the garden with my camera while the kids were at school. Last year I got arty with a mirror, this year I just got naked on the trampoline…
The best outtake I have has already been used but that day trip last summer also gave rise to this weekend’s shot. As we wandered along the beach in search of a suitable cave in which to take this Sinful Sunday, @19syllables hopped in and out of crevices so I could test the framing each cave offered. This one wasn’t right for the image we had in mind, but a well-timed gust of wind delivered an awesome result nonetheless!
A sunny day is forecast. I’ve already booked a day off. The night before a plan is hatched over Scrabble and wine: “I’ll cancel my 3.30 meeting and pick you up from the station – we’ll have a mini photo adventure.” ‘Hurrah!’ I think. ‘Or maybe I’ll watch you masturbate in the woods. Yes, I like that idea. You choose to which vibrator to bring. Don’t feel you have to wear underwear.”
Seventeen or so hours later my orgasm is ripped out of me, aided by the Rocks Off Chaiamo but accelerated by the sight of spunk hitting the woodland floor. I glance over to the backs of the unaware dog walkers some 50 metres away and smile. The voyeur and the exhibitionist in me is satisfied. An hour after being picked up I’m sat on a wall outside another train station looking for all the world like a modest middle-aged woman in a red jumper dress, waiting to meet her godmother for an exhibition and early dinner.