I have always been an exhibitionist. I actually spent some time in college trying to find out why, what was the cause?
Insecure perhaps? Oh, that is me. A feeling of being inadequate? Yes, me, too.
Perhaps. Nothing I ever read or studied really fits me. I just am the way I am. Bending over and offering a peek by "accident" gets me hot!
If the object of my attention seems to enjoy it, that is even better. I love to wear skimpy outfits, loose tops, shorts. Sometimes skirts that let too much show, yes, sometimes with nothing underneath.
No one can miss my pubes, they are enormous compared to most women, at least the ones I saw in the showers when I was in school.
Most of the girls had smooth thin slits, I was always jealous of that, cursed with this mass of flesh that sticks out of me. Not even blessed with enough pubic hair to help me cover it.
I was teased to the point where I simply would not shower with the other girls, I often went home from gym class without washing. I would just wash at home.
It didn't help that I never grew breasts, by never I mean I was a pretend "B" cup but I was really an "A". Basically oversensitive nipples on a breastbone.
By the time I was in my 30's I was resigned to it, and I could delight in the small percentage of men who seemed interested.
I got lucky one day, the first time in my life I was ever lucky. I picked up a bum on the street, a class project for my nursing training. Under the dirt and scum was the damndest male on the face of this earth.
Why did I pick him? What was it? I am almost sure it was his eyes, he looked at me and knew every single thing about me.
To this day I do not know what it was that combined to make my Ted into the man he was. I do know that every woman, and I mean EVERY woman who met him wanted him.
Me, too.
Every woman should have a man who starts making love at daybreak, with a touch and a caress, just teases. The day goes on and every word, every touch is a buildup. Each word and comment has a single function, to arouse, finally culminating in the simple act of love. But such sweet love, like biting into the freshest and sweetest of fruits, fully ready and perfect.
I experienced that, I experienced two decades of that. I suspect many never reach that in a lifetime.
One day my man was gone. It wasn't unexpected, but still. There was suddenly a huge hole in my life.
Here I was, single, alone, lost. I tried to die, I tried to be something I was not, I reached for impossible dreams. Then in a last grasp for something, anything, I tried to sacrifice myself for the world. I even failed at that.
My friend Sally made quite a difference, the loneliness of some days is filled with the laughter only two crazy females can have. Sally is a little on the prudish side, I am outgoing.
In short order, Sally got over a lot of that, talk about a late bloomer!
We became fast friends, and we were starting to do things, meet people. Just two girls completely mismatched, clicking with the world around us, somehow clicking with each other.
The odd couple, I guess.
Then that accident! It had been bad enough I managed to find myself on an uneventful trip, off to a crazy foreign land to help people with my learned skills as a Doctor.
We never got there, our safety became the concern. My trip was hotel rooms and airplanes. Then a short ride out into the desert, then back. That was it.
I came home unhappy, tired, out of shape. But Sally, wonderful Sally. Soon we were going out, playing, enjoying life and just having fun.
There had been a long gap from when my husband died and any kind of fun. Sex and relationships of course. The kind one does and finds no fulfillment, really. I had almost decided my world was over, at 51 I was ready.
Yes, Sally. Some kind of understanding of each other was there. We laughed together, talked of everything. We went out and teased men without mercy.
Then that stupid accident. We just wanted Ice Cream, it was hot. I sat and fiddled with the air conditioning, the engine idling. Sally hopped out to go inside, she made a dozen strides. That saved her from lord knows what the outcome could have been. I only got a glimpse of the pickup truck coming.
A cast on my left arm, surgery after surgery trying to save it. It is more metal than bone now, healing slowly and poorly. My left leg, snapped just below the knee, but healing. My face, a cheekbone impacted, nose damaged. Fixed now, a new nose. A nose from my dreams! Gone was the one I always hated, it looked like it belonged somewhere else.
Plus breasts. My God Breasts! Only a woman can understand, I think, I have them! They are perfect, some days I sit in my room and bare them in my mirror just to look.
I want everyone to see them.
There was one small incident while I was in the hospital, at least I think it was an incident. A man came to my room as I lay in that state between awake and dreams. He was a Doctor, I thought. He looked at me, touched me, filled a need in me. Then he was gone.
I thought it was real but now I am not sure. My husband Ted always comes to me in dreams, you see.
This wasn't Ted. I think it was one of the workers there, but I am not sure. Perhaps it was only in my head. I don't know. It was a moment, it was between the shadows in my room, my mind.
