Real life

Hello body, where have you been all my life?

I’ve taken to doing two odd new things of late:

The first new habit is sitting in my car in parking lots, just reflecting on stuff. I’ve cried a few times doing it, but mostly I just sits and I thinks. Then? I do my best to leave the crap behind, crank up the music, and go on about my business. Years ago, when K was knocking at death’s door, I used to drive the freeway twixt the house and hospital and scream. Scream bloody murder…. mouth wide open, throat injuring, primal screams. I stopped when it occurred to me that I wasn’t driving the freeway system alone and that eventually… more than likely… some well-intentioned fellow motorist would phone 9-1-1 and they’d send someone after the lunatic me. So, sitting in the car… tears or no tears…  isn’t so bad by comparison.

The second new habit is staying in bed after waking and doing odd – yet rarely sexual – things with my body. I’m a tired puppy – for a host of reasons – and normally I hit the snooze a couple of times and then once I turn the alarm off? I’m out of bed like a flash. It’s like plucking a hair… you just have to get it over with.

Recently, though, I’ve taken to just stretching for a bit… staring around the room… checking my text and email for interesting messages… and taking random pics of my body. Yup… just random shit. Hm, look at my legs stretched up to the ceiling [snap] Well what’cha know, there’s  a nipple just sitting right there in front of me [snap] Hey, I wonder what my ear looks like [snap] Gosh, has my belly button always looked that big? [snap].

Most of these images are deleted as soon as I snap ’em and look at ’em. Some puzzle me… some amuse me… once or twice I was horrified  😉

Some of them end up on my PC where I play with them. Here, for instance… are my happy feet. Nothing felt more delicious to me yesterday morning than stretching my legs up to the ceiling and playing footsie with myself. That’s weird new.

I guess the thing I find most puzzling is this: This seems less about other people than it does about me… if that makes sense. I’m oddly fascinated with the way my body feels and looks to me right now and far less interested in what it feels and looks like to other people.

Don’t get me wrong… I’m not without vanity or embarrassment or insecurities. It just seems  to matter less to me in this moment in time than it did previously.

I’m puzzled by how my body works and what is broken about it… I’m interested in modifying it in some ways and absolutely not interested in changing it in others.

This is a new wrinkle…

And speaking of wrinkles… [snap]

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