- 3/26/—-
- lying naked on the floor in my room listening to “I’ll Be Your Inspiration.” dancing in front of the window that work to me as a mirror. Screw clothes
Without any real relationships, I was constrained to my own sensuality and imagination. At a certain point in my life, I began staying up or getting up again late at night to dance naked in my room to a stereo turned quiet enough so that I was the only one in the house to hear it. I would listen to techno music and gyrate as the music commanded. I would listen to the midnight radio show where the DJ answered call-in questions about sexuality. I even told one of the boys from that chemistry class that I spent time naked on the gently sloped roof outside my bedroom window looking at the misty covered forests beyond. Some nights I simply played soft jazz ballads and lay on my bed with my imagination and my own determined hands.
Inside my head was a spinning wheel of men (and very few women) that would visit my dreams. I imagined adult versions of someone from my previous school and orchestrated in my head a hypothetical meet up after graduation. I saw my current classmates in sequence, taking turns. I would switch fingers inside of me to represent the different boys, sometimes working 2 or 3 fingers into myself at the same time. I pictured their faces above me while I did. I relished a filthy spectacle involving myself and 5 boys from my older brother’s soccer team. I knew they still saw me as Edmund’s little sister, but the year I started thinking about sex was the year they started looking like men. I kept waking up with sore muscles when I had not done any strenuous exercise the day before.
- 5/08/—-
- My hips hurt. It’s not really my hips that hurt it’s the muscles above my hips and around my stomach. It feels sore like I got some exercise. I mentioned this to R___ and he said “maybe you did some push-ups in your sleep.”
- “Right” I replied, or situps.”
I remember after this conversation R___ sitting behind me in French class. His leg was bouncing up and down under the his so rapidly and hard that I felt the vibrations against my chair. I wondered if he knew what I meant and how crazy it drove me to have that jimmy leg so close to me. Really any sort of jostling gave me a degree of pleasure. I loved doing that to myself, and my journal continued with some of the negative effects I was noticing.
- Actually it’s the area I do sit ups with that are sore. I can think of two possibilities. Either this is what cramps feel like, or my nightly… exercises actually work muscles. If playing with myself so actively does produce muscles I should have a six pack by July. Actually I think that’s what is changing the shape of my butt.
- I’m mad. I was proud of my butt. It was big in proportion to my waist. It was a nice fat…(what was the word) Oh yeah Bedonkadonk that was randomly there despite my normal thighs, tiny waste, and ballet posture.
- It was a nice tempting medium ass which I could wave in front of the guys with the heels I wear to shake my moneymaker and the jeans to fit my form. I felt sexy. Well then I saw the form start to change my butt tightened. It came smaller and closer to the center and little divets appeared on the sides a little below my hip.
My journal includes, off to the side of this little tangent, a little drawing of both butt shapes, including the divots. I find this passage particularly amusing at my current age. I was neither a good drawer, nor have I ever had anything close to a badonkadonk. I danced ballet up to high school and retained that skinny as a rail shape mostly until I turned 25. Even now I still have the legs, but I have finally developed something of the curves I once longed for.
I admittedly am naked for more often than I dance any more. I wonder if those gyrations would feel as therapeutic at my age as they did back then. I don’t have a boombox anymore, but YouTube: fetch me some techno!
