Tag Archives: clothes shopping

Thoughts on Clothes Shopping, and Sugasm 140.

Have you ever had one of those days where you just wake up apprehensive and slightly disturbed, and you’re not sure why, other than the restless sleep filled with unsettling dreams you can’t remember?
Yeah. I had one of those sleeps last night. Fraught with the unsettled, but completely in the dark as to remembering any of my dreams last night. Except for a snippet where I was having this hellish clothes-shopping experience where, every item I tried on, I’d look in the mirror and it’d suddenly distort and I’d have this hideous thing looking back at me. I woke up, smoked some pot, and tried to sleep again.
Hours later, I’ve woken up uncomfortable in my own skin, and I can’t really shake it off, but I’m about to give it a good shot.
I went to bed last night thinking all these outlandish thoughts about how exciting it was going to be to go shopping for new shorts at Old Navy today. Now I’m all apprehensive about it. I’m sitting here in the XXL shorts I bought two years ago that I now have to yank the ropes as tight as possible and roll down at the waist just to keep ’em from falling down over my hips. I’ve lost more than 40 pounds, but there are times I still feel like the girl of old.
It’s a little nerve-wracking facing the demons of Mass Produced Clothing in the post-weight-loss world. Boo, hiss, mass production. In a world without regulated sizing, it can be a pretty psychologically cruel journey for someone looking to find a sense of self in a new size. As if that’s where we’ll ever find ourselves anyhow. But once we do find our self, wherever it’s found, it can always be enhanced by a great pair of jeans, no?
Naturally, I can’t afford to buy much today. A little. Not much. The broke state of Steff will come to an end in Aug/Sept, but I can find a few pennies, and that’s okay. Anything is good, right? I’ve been wearing my three new shirts this week and my new jeans I bought, and I got an awesome email from a coworker yesterday morning, an afterthought kind of thing. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you, you’re looking amazing! Those jeans you’ve been wearing really, really show it off. Way to go!”
So, now I’m about to take off and have the first reckoning with what, exactly, is my new size after all? Sure, I’m nervous, but I’m also excited. Nothing like buying new clothes to reinvent our image. It’s the single most important decision we make daily on how we want our world to perceive us, isn’t it?
Living two years without the opportunity to reinvent my image thanks to such bad financial straights for so long, and having made so many changes in who I am, and knowing who I was 2 years ago versus this wicked chick I’ve become, well, this is the beginning of a radical re”branding” of the self of Steff.
For instance, I bought this terrific slightly butch shirt that I just think rocks. It’s sad that I want to have shrunk out of it by Thanksgiving, but I’ll love it in the meantime. It’s almost like a cute little tailored mechanic’s shirt with cap sleeves and darting at the waist, and it’s red and blue stripes on white, but the back has a massive 10″ embroidered flower patch offset to the left, and it’s just perfect. Feminine, yet not. Looks great with my tan. It strikes the perfect balance I want my whole wardrobe to have.
I’m no girlie girl, and I never will be. I’ve had an assortment of Doc Martens over the years and love some good boots, right? I long for a new leather jacket, I dig my short hair. But I don’t want to be butch. I’m so done with butch. I want femininity without selling out completely. I want balance. Cute but hot, tough but soft.
But who we see ourselves in our mind’s eye versus who we’re able to produce as a result of the clothing we buy, the images we craft, is wildly different. We can have an idea of where we want to go, but until we find the right things on the rack, who’s to say where we actually wind up?
So, here I go. Off to see if mass production really has a “self” I’m willing to project. And what self will it be, anyhow? Ahh, the wonders of materialism.
Here, eat some Sugasm. It’ll all be better in the morning.

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them.

This Week’s Picks
“Are you a sex blogger or a sexy blogger?” “It builds a community that I am so proud to be part of.”

The J Word “And while you’re with her, I’ll be with him.”
Transcending moment ”It’s that place between fear and arousal, and they are so very closely related.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself — Sugar Bank
Editor’s Choice– Chill Pleasure
BDSM & Fetish
Bathroom bang
Bros Not Hoes – F/m Spanking Video Clip
Cock training
Galerías de spanking: Spanking Server
Games Grown Ups Play
The Most Amazing Sex (and I didn’t come)
Mr. and Mrs. Kink Have Great Sex (Again)
My First Ever Fetish Photography Shoot & Other Wonderful Things
New spanking gallerie – Two girls spanked
Religion and BDSM
TES Fest 2008 was fabulous!
Your Slut

Sex Advice
Ask Miss Bliss-How Do I Know If A Girl Likes Me?
Fetish Safety – Branding
The Kivin Method: Guaranteed Orgasm for Women

Erotic Writing and Experiences
Advanced Exhibitionism
Autobiography of a Masturbator: Porn O’Graphicus, Part 2
Club Tantra: My Experience, Unabridged
Fucking no foreplay
Getting to fuck the neighbor 9
HNT – Peach
Insanity never felt so good
Interludes – part 1
Memoir Of A Married Woman
Popping His Cherry
Re: Dinner Last Night
“Red Bottoms” (Complete)
Sloppy Seconds, Then Thirds
That Time of the Month
Whiskey Kisses (unedited)

Sex Work
Sex Worker Solidarity: Catalina
Happy Thoughts on Being a Phonesex Op…
Stamp on my forehead saying “ask me about your fetish”

Sex & Politics
Natalia Antonova on Objectification and Desire
Teen Sex: The New After-School Special?
Women Enjoy Relative Sexual Freedom this 4th of July

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Bedroom Radio #18: Artemis Hunter and the Silver Bullet
Calstar Spanking – Severe deep stripe marks
Cheerleader is tired in gangbang video
Free video audition of Amsterdam sex performer
Half-Nekkid and Getting Shaved
HNT – A bit cheeky
HNT – Purple Lace
Making Love to the Camera
Mz Berlin Took This Picture Of Herself In Her New Wasp Creation Corset

Sex Humor
Top 6 Reasons for Not Shaving Your Beaver

Sex News, Reviews & Interviews
Catalina loves Lochai
Comstock Films
Drink Semen for Better Health
Interview about spanking erotica with Spanked contributor Teresa Noelle Roberts
January Seraph Is A Hot Femdom Dominating Jade Indica In Lesbian Latex Role Play
The Monday Buzz: The Bandito
Penny Flame Fucks A Handyman With A Strap-On and Feeds Him His Own Cum
Product Research: Blow Job Dildo
Yes! Yes! Yes! Personal Lubricant

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Be nice… until it is time to not be nice…
Finding out your good friends are swingers
Naughty Text Messages and Perverted Friends Makes Life Fun
Sex Advice Review: “Tips to Better Sex and Sleep”

Some Thoughts on Overcoming Sexual Insecurities

Yeah, I like my rock’n’roll and I can get dirty with the best of them, but I love my George Michael, and always have. Heck, my first masturbation was inspired by George more than two decades ago.
I felt like I was 13 again last week as I waited for the concert to begin, and was over the moon when, at long last, a still-unseen George began belting out one of his lesser-known tracks, “Waiting”, from behind the stage.

All those insecurities
That have held me down for so long
I can’t say I’ve found a cure for these
But at least I know them
So they’re not so strong

Those lyrics got me through much of my teens and taught me at a very early age something I think I’m struggling to remember until I die: Insecurities never really go away, we just learn about ourselves and know how to out-think and overpower them, like George did.
God knows my insecurities have never taken leave of me, and sometimes I doubt that they ever will. Yesterday, shopping at Value Village, in their shitty lighting, surrounded by a lousy selection, and with my heat-wave water-retention at full-power, much of those insecurities that have plagued me throughout my life were brought home.
Worse, now that I’m older and wiser, I started being mad that I’d allowed myself to be so affected by old insecurities, and had so stupidly done what I knew I shouldn’t (shopping when I wasn’t feeling sexy anyhow) so there I was, both feeling all my old insecurities, and disliking myself for feeling them.
Welcome to Humanity 101, I guess. It’s how we roll.
Insecurities get in our way in life, especially during sex. How do we get past them? Like you do most impassable things: By pushing your way through, no matter what it takes. Especially when it comes to getting past your insecurities during sex.
Take me, for instance. Always being overweight in my life, about the last thing I ever wanted was to have sex on top. I always figured that it’d be horrific having to be consciously aware of my jiggling during sex. Then I had the concern of weighing too much on top of a lover. All those things that make sense to feel, but really, really get in the way of enjoying yourself, you know?
Doesn’t matter that guys have fantasies about “jiggling” or that the weight means more pressure on his penis and in a usually-good kind of way, that’s just too much logic for a girl in the throes of her insecurities, isn’t it?
Three or four years ago, I finally got past that and started not just going through the motions on top, but really trying to get out of my head and get into what it was feeling like, instead. Surprisingly, it actually felt pretty hot. Then I started to enjoy myself. In fact, I discovered this neat little trick where I can almost “ratchet” my hips through a few positions, much to the delight of the fellow who first experienced it. That LOOK he gave me as he gasped. Who knew?
When I get to thinking of all the stupid things I’m scared of looking like or feeling like as I’m on top of a guy, the thing that stops it all is that expression that first guy had, when I knew I’d finally mastered the on-top experience.
All those years of resisting being on top, all those years of thinking from my insecurities first rather than the feeling being on top created, and suddenly I learned, with one gasp and exclamation from one guy, that if I’d just gotten past that bullshit sooner, I could’ve had that empowering feeling of a guy melting beneath me all those years earlier.
Like I said, welcome to humanity 101, eh?
I guess that’s the trouble with sex sometimes. We’re so afraid of looking like an ass or feeling like a moron, that we don’t allow ourselves to submit fully to the moment. That’s why we have bad sex, or underwhelming orgasms, or no orgasms at all. Because we get to thinking too much, and not doing.
That’s one of the reasons I’m loathe to do these step-by-step instructions people will often ask for in regards to different sex tips. I have this fear that, somewhere some woman’s going down on her man, thinking, “Now, what did Steff say to do after sucking the base of his shaft? Oh, DAMN, I can’t remember!” as if she’s baking a cake or something and just forgot an ingredient. Improvise!
Sex is hard enough without having to get all intellectual about it. Getting past our fears is hard enough, too.
So what do you do? You do what you’re scared to do. You do what you’re fearful of feeling like a loser during. You just try. You do it anyways. You hang your judgments and fears up in the closet, and you get busy, darlin’. Then, when it’s over, you look at the post-orgasmic mess of a lover lying crumpled beside you and you think “Yeah, that’s all me, baby.”
Because it is. When you ignore your insecurities, dismiss them for what they are (humans feeling human), and fully immerse yourself in the experience, you might find yourself pretty surprised with who you were able to be for a few short minutes, and just how much your lover became a fan too.
Or maybe it’s not about the orgasm. Maybe, for once, it’s just about knowing you didn’t get in your own way, and maybe that’s enough to make next time a little easier.
Because that’s about the only way we really get past these things.
PS: The GM concert, in the end, was awesome. Of course it was. He’s a consummate pro. I posted a review on my other blog.

Oh, Fuck, I Look Like WHAT Today?

Mental note to self:
It is stupid, incredibly so, to take self shopping on first day of new heat wave because, self knows thyself, and knows bloating always comes with a heat wave. Plus, stomach wasn’t feeling well, so shopping in that state?
Fully crossing the threshold from “idiotic” to “stupid insane” because now my “Wow, I’ve lost so much weight!” is “Fuck, why do I look like THAT today? Who’s been fucking around with these mirrors, anyhow, and what, in God’s name, is WRONG with those fluorescent bulbs?”
(Of course, looking like shit is a risk you take any time you go to Value Village, isn’t it? I swear, some sections should have signs like, “For those who plan to never be laid again” or “Clothing for your repressed inner-virgin” or “For those who just don’t give a shit” or “Knits your grandmother made you wear”.)
And this is why living in a nudist colony makes good sense sometimes.
Or… living alone without roomies or other people, so I can look however I want and enjoy it. Yet another fantastic thing about being single. Where are those old Joe Boxers of mine, anyhow?