Jelly

In my family, there’s something called a Zezza butt.

It’s a really nice ass, larger than most, but perky and round.

I’ve got a Zezza butt.

As does my cousin Jennifer and my brother Art.

We’ve even taken a picture of all our asses, lined up (I’m #2 in the lineup).

Not everyone likes Zezza butt, but they should.

It’s pretty awesome.

I recall one instance in fact when a very athletic burner requested that we fool around in his RV SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE HE WANTED TO SEE “DAT ASS.”

It has slowly dawned on me that some people like curvy women.

Some people like slim women.

And some people LIKE ALL WOMEN.

I’ve given up trying to hide my body, which will never look like Heidi Klum’s, and am working on embracing all that JUNK IN MY TRUNK.

Starting with buying some short shorts for the Burn.

Okay, I DID buy a pair of shorts a few weeks ago that were (optimistically) two sizes smaller than my current size.

I’ve now replaced those shorts with booty hugging, booty boosting, putting-it-all-on-display jean shorts.

Four pairs, to be exact.

That way I’m sure to find something I like.

No, I won’t look like Jessica Simpson in my shorts but fuck, I like my thick thighs.

And other people do too.

They feel just as good wrapped around a sturdy man as slim ones.

And stuffing all my jelly into a pair of Daisy Dukes just gives me a little thrill.

Hope it gives you a thrill too. . .

Standing next to supermodels

It sounds like a nightmare, doesn’t it?

Having to stand next to a supermodel.

What could be worse that being side by side with a leggy blond or brunette with perfectly symmetrical features and cheekbones that could cut wood?

I personally try not to follow too many fashion models on Instagram because it’s bad for my mental health and self image.

I try to follow curve models.

They have curvy butts and thighs and sometimes even a soft belly.

It’s comforting to me to see women with body types like my own.

It makes me feel like less of an unlovable freak and more like a beautiful woman.

I’m not sure beauty magazines understand the impact they have on young women growing up when all they promote within their pages are size 0 models.

It’s a 445 BILLION dollar industry based on convincing women that they need this lipstick, dress, purse, face cream, etc, in order to be beautiful.

I am reminded of a line in “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)” that goes something like this:

DO NOT READ BEAUTY MAGAZINES, THEY WILL ONLY MAKE YOU FEEL UGLY.

Beauty magazines are in the business of making beautiful women feel ugly.

When I was younger I loved beauty magazines.

I used to subscribe to several of them and I’d comb through the pages of the magazine picking out makeup, clothes, and accessories that I really wanted.

It gave me a little thrill.

Now, it makes me shudder.

And yet, I am a beauty consumer of the first water.

A VIB Sephora member.

A Platinum member of ULTA.

And I’ll be damned if I don’t also buy makeup from Milani, Beautylish, and elf.

If the amount of makeup we buy is proportional to how ugly we feel inside, then what do my spending habits say about me????

God, there’s a frightening thought.

Burning Man 2018: Beauty

It takes less then 24 hours for the playa to destroy your brand new gel manicure.

I’m not kidding.

My nails are destroyed.

My perfectly blown out hair is a hot mess.

Playa dust sticks to everything, including your hair, making it sticky and hyper-texturized so much so that you can barely run a brush through your hair.

If you shower, you need to IMMEDIATELY dry your hair or risk absorbing all the dust in the air into your freshly washed hair.

I learned this the hard way when I went on a bike ride into deep playa during a dust storm in 2015 right after I washed my hair in camp.

My dust storm this week happened while I was riding home with a friend from 9:00 and A to 6:00 and E (the long way, not the Esplanade way).

We rode our bikes to Tejas’ RV.

In a dust storm.

Riding into the wind.

When I arrived at the RV, My eyebrows and my formerly jet black lashes were “playa dust white.”

And yet, despite the elements, playa women look magically sexy and beautiful.

And I’m not talking about the ones who look like they’re fresh from the default world.

No, I’m talking about the ones who look like they’ve been up all night dancing in a dust storm at Opulent Temple.

I’m talking about the ones who look a little “rode hard and put away wet” but also wear a smile that could power a million light bulbs.

Inner radiance.

That’s where true beauty lies.

The most flattering picture of me in the known universe

As I creep closer to 50, I find myself struggling harder against the signs of aging.

Perhaps it’s all in vain, but I can’t help myself.

I don’t want to look old before my time.

I want to look young, and firm and smooth!

So I’m getting my melasma removed via a very irritating process known as the Spectra Laser Peel.

It feels like a little electrical ZAP! going on right next to your skin and it’s hella annoying.

And by annoying, I mean slap-your-esthetician-annoying.

I have to lay on my hands to keep myself from swatting her hands away.

In any case, they first put a black carbon solution on your face like a mask which they then ZAP! away.

The nurse left the room after applying the mask and out of curiosity, I snapped a picture of what I looked like in the carbon mask.

And, as it turns out, I took the most flattering picture of me in the known universe:

And I’m just wondering, perhaps if I put this as my online dating profile picture, I’ll get some decent dates?

Nothing is sexier than a woman laying on a table, with a carbon mask on her face, eh?

In the pale

I am a white girl.

And as far as white girls go, I’m on the lower end of the scale as far as melanin production goes.

I’m fair.

I am 75% Nordic/British Isles and 25% Portuguese.

I joke that this means that I burn easily, but can hold a tan.

It’s true though.

Every summer when I was growing up, I’d slather myself in baby oil and lay out at the pool for 30 minutes.

I’d get a wicked burn which would fade into a beautiful tan.

Those were the days (before skin cancer warnings).

Briefly, I went to the tanning salon and laid in their (cancer inducing) beds and got a lovely tan as well.

But no more.

I have to be good and take care of my skin.

So, I get spray tans.

Recently, I’ve decided I’m going to try to do it myself and I bought Cocoa Brown Tan Mousse and a pink velvet glove to apply it.

[Side note:  I’m sorely tempted to use the pink velvet gloves for bedroom activities and NOT self-tanner application.]

I want to be brown like the models we see in summer ads – all long legs and golden shoulders.

I know I can’t get their bodies, but it seems unfair to deny me their color as well.

I don’t want to be pale anymore.

I want to be TAN!

And with my trip to Burning Man coming up, it’d be nice to be more bronze goddess and less pale ice queen.

[Post script:  I’ll let you know how it goes.  I bought the darkest mousse on the market so I could turn out striped like a zebra!]

Vanity, vanity. . .

For most of my life, I’ve been blessed with good skin.

I owe it mostly to the fact that I took a job at a spa years ago and the owner really emphasized the importance of wearing sunscreen and I listened to her.

Of course, growing up in California, I’ve had a lot of exposure to the sun.

When I turned 30 I got the sun damage removed with IPL (Intense Pulsed Light).

The results were outstanding.

Well it’s now 10 years later and I’m dealing with something more tenacious than sun damage.

I’m dealing with MELASMA, a hormone based skin discoloration that is primarily on my forehead.

So I’m getting laser treatments to remove it.

The treatments feel like someone setting off little electrical charges about a centimeter from your face.

It doesn’t hurt but GOD, is it annoying!

I want to swat the technician’s hand away when she ‘s zapping me.

Instead I clutch my hands together and try to imagine I’m on a tropical beach somewhere lying in the sun listening to the waves.

When the treatment is over, my skin feels slightly sunburned but there’s no redness or lingering irritation.

I’m waiting to see what my skin looks like after 3 treatments.

I’ve been told it can take up to 10 treatments to get the best effect.

That’s $1,500 worth of skin treatments, by the way.

We shall see how this goes.

One thing is for sure, I don’t want to start wearing foundation.

It would be great to get my melasma taken care of because I am so self-conscious about it.

And my vanity is just not letting me give up without a fight!

How bow dat?

Not surprisingly, I am one of those women who have experimented with Botox.

My foray into nonsurgical skin enhancement started when I turned 30.

I had sun damage and I wanted to get rid of it.

So I got a series of six fotofacials (to the tune of about $2,500) as a 30th birthday present to myself.

The results were GREAT!

Gone were those telltale California brown spots.

My skin was tighter, smoother, more refined, with less redness and wrinkles.

A few years after that, I noticed a little wrinkle starting to develop on my forehead.

So I took a DEEP BREATH and I got it treated with Botox.

And whaddya know, it worked!

Wrinkle erased.

It’s now been nearly 15 years since I started with facial enhancers like Botox and fotofacials.

Honestly, I need an update but I haven’t had the time to research the new technology that’s out there – DermPen and Spectra, to name a few.

And I’m not going to do anything to my face that’s named after a Bond movie without checking into it first.

Lately, I’ve been wondering about lip enhancement.

Because I have nice full lips, but when I smile my upper lip thins out.

Wouldn’t it be nice to have lips like a lipstick model?

All full and pillowy?

Well, I went online and checked that out and NOPE!

The whole idea of needles in my lips is REALLY HINKY!

Not gonna do it!

I guess I’ll just have to pout to show off my lips.

Or maybe, just maybe, I should start wearing LIPSTICK.

How bow dat?

Obsessive

I have several obsessions.

Evening gowns was one, although I have a friend “Amy” who puts me to shame with her endless evening gown collection.

After that it’s lingerie. I have drawer upon drawer of lingerie, most of which never gets worn because I like comfy cotton boyshorts and bras which are slightly too small for me, making the kittens look outrageously good.

Then there’s the obsession I don’t talk about very often – the black vinyl clothing obsession.

Who knew you could love synthetic fabric so much you would want to wear it close to your skin EVERY DAY?!

And speaking of naughty obsessions, there’s also my strange affection for neoprene.

Gotta love me some wetsuits!

Snort in that neoprene smell.

What I’ve failed to mention so far is that by and far my most ardent obsession is with makeup.

If you want to cheer me up, hand me $100 and take me to the drugstore or the department store and let me loose in Cosmetics.

I go bananas for pots and pans of colors!

My sons have evolved a technique to keep me from looking in the windows of Sephora because I can disappear in that store for HOURS!

My aunt, cousin, and niece all like going through my makeup and taking what I no longer use.

So it’s my niece’s birthday coming up and she, like me, loves makeup.

I bought her some nice, light colored eye shadow palettes and a pack of brushes – because every girl should learn to use brushes.

I am a damn fine auntie!

Thick thighs and bodacious breasts

Pretty much my whole life I have wished I had legs like Heidi Klum.

Slim. Sexy. Statuesque.

What did I get?

Thick legs.

Lately however, I haven’t minded as much.

Perhaps it’s because I no longer read beauty magazines which inundate me with images of women with bodies so very unlike my own.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve set up my Instagram feed to show me images of plus size beauties like @lillias_right

And @theericalauren

There’s just something about seeing women with bodies like my own that make me feel more confident in my own skin.

Nevertheless, I was surprised to find that THIS

was my most popular boudoir photo.

Thick thighs. Hip tattoos showing. Airbrushed skin like plastic.

I suppose that there are men (and women) out there who like thick legs.

I know they are growing on me.

My other most popular picture on this blog is this one:

A hot tub photo with a near nip slip.

Ample breasts, steamy skin, wild hair.

The popularity of this photo surprises me less.

I’ve just got to say how very impressed I am with my blog audience for liking these photos.

Guess what?

Thick thighs and bodacious breasts are IN!

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Tahoe Trip: The Black Hole

One thing my sister and I do a lot of when I go to visit her is GET TATTOOS.

Another thing we do is GET PIERCINGS.

I can’t tell you how much fun I have in the dark, cramped rooms of seedy tattoo parlors and piercing studios.

My boys joke that every time I go to Reno, I return with a new piercing or tattoo.

And that’s not far from the truth.

This visit, my sister and I went to Black Hole Body Piercing in Reno.

I needed to get my nose piercing tightened.  Exciting stuff.

My sister, however, got her left daith pierced.

piercingsI held my sister’s hand as the technician got ready to poke another hole in her body.

Lisa flinched when the needle went in. . .  and she didn’t stop flinching.

I didn’t envy her the piercing, though I’ve been thinking about getting another pair of piercings in my lobes.

And the end result?

Nothing short of beautiful:

daith peircing