My dance stirs all creation.





Sun 6.27


I have just had a bath, lotioned myself up, applied toner to the face after the scrub, and now face cream, red hair blown dry and tied back with a scrunchy, I have a slim body with plum sized tits, which I dress in a black strappy camisole and black panties. I am wearing a long dark cerulean blue skirt, cut on the bias, making it clingy, and with little black roses embroidered throughout, a gift from Charlotte, the biker girl on the 3rd floor when she left for California.

For jewelry, on my right hand ring finger is my mother's diamond; there is a gold chain round my neck and some pale blue glass pendants for the ears that are miniature chandeliers, set in gold. Then of course the ubiquitous glasses, round, frameless, with red-brown arms, and lastly clear nail polish on finger nails, pearlescent silver for the toes, which support black flip flops with rhinestone embedded straps. C'est moi.

This is the picture I choose to show the world. There is a double message in my presentation, one is accessibility and the other is strength. People choose to interpret what they see in me as whatever their needs demand. Some people see my accessibility as weakness, and some people see my strength as arrogance. They have a need to see that.

There are times when I present a different picture to the world, it is the other side of the coin: I am inaccessible and defensive. Something is upsetting me, injuring me, overwhelming my resources. Those are pressured days when you forget about the sleeked back hair, the toe nail polish, the cerulean blue skirt, there's no time. You are climbing a mountain covered in molasses only to discover that once you've conquered it another one awaits; it is covered in razor blades.

It's not to be avoided. A very wise witches' saying asserts that, Where there's fear, there's power. I have always known that, therefore I have sought to conquer fears.

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Current favorite this past month has been And To Love