First, can I just say check my shit out- I'm blogging regularly again! I'd like to entirely blame the boy, to be honest, who provokes my mind in so many ways.

Also, this photo has nothing to do with this blog. (Sorry, LJ followers, you have to come to blogspot to see it I'm afraid. Don't worry parental units, it's PG)

So, now that it's safely Feb 15th, I thought it'd be a good time to explore further this concept of Valentine's Day as a High Femme Holy Holiday, something mentioned over on fetlife by a dear friend. She said:

"Leslie Feinberg once called Valentine's Day the High Holy Day of Femme. I like that on that day, women's feelings are supposed to count and get catered to."

Now, I really kind of like this idea. Yes, it's been fucked over by Hallmark, hence the whole "be my anti valentine" movement (which I also support with pleasure every year). But the idea that there's a day where women's feelings are focused on is kinda neat. I also liked the tongue-in-cheek concept of "steak and blowjob day", which is, to follow the metaphor, I suppose the yang to V Day's yin. It can, of course, be argued that it seems like MANY days are steak and blowjob day, as many men seem to like to think...

...unless of course the man in your life doesn't eat steak.

But I digress. Or do I?

There was an instant thought for me. If it's a Holy Day of Femme, is that just female femme, or a celebration of femme in general? I mean, men like flowers and chocolates as well, right? At least, the ones I've dated tend to. And I don't have enough digits to count how many women enjoy getting a steak and a blow job. Are flowers an indication of femme and steak an indication of butch? Are these symbols? Where does "cake and cunnilingus" day come into all this? Can't I just share a steak, a cake, and some flowers all at once to simplify matters? WHERE DOES THE MADNESS END

I would love for Feb 14th to become a day for me that celebrates femme in all its varieties. I think next year the boy shall pull out his femme side with me, figuring out how to love and honour femme in ourselves and others. I would also like there to be a day to celebrate butch, and genderqueering. Or fuck all of that, I'll just celebrate Lupercalia as my usual genderfuckery self.

Sublime Femme posts on her blog:

"Prof. Hipster and others who sneer at Valentine’s Day as ridiculous and sentimental can kiss my ass. For femmes, Valentine’s Day is a high holy day. But I think we’re often made to feel like our appreciation for the romance of the holiday makes us superficial. Like beauty and fashion, love and romance are trivialized in our culture because they are feminized. If these things mattered to men, I guarantee you that they’d all be as important as the Super Bowl."

So I have to sit and think. Yes, I like romance, and love, and affection, and appreciation. And I love a day that celebrates love. That said, I tend to date men who aren't afraid of romance, who see love like I do: beautiful, wild, a little scary and a little sexy. Is that femme? Is celebrating these generally considered "feminine" things encouraging the idea that they're feminine to begin with? And while I fully support a day that's all about women and what they want, does that invalidate/make invisible femme men and genderqueers?

Am I doing femme wrong again? Am I making this too complicated for myself?

Probably.

Fuck this and give me my Lupercalia lashings already.

I enjoy teasing my boy about submitting to the female gaze. I fantasize about having him kneeling, naked, or perhaps in the underwear of my choosing, on the floor, as I walk around him letting my eyes run over his skin, occasionally moving his limbs this way and that, my finger under his chin to force his big, blue eyes to meet mine. I like making him feel objectified, my plaything, something deserving of desire and focus and attention. Boys don't seem to get that sensation often, because when I offer it, along with barely civilized smutty compliments, they blush with the praise.


I have a weird relationship with the male gaze. As a sex worker, I invite being gazed upon- if I didn't, I doubt I would get much in the way of work, as a big portion of my advertising is unspoken and immediate. I try to invite that gaze on my terms- my photos are taken by friends and lovers, and therefore convey a sense of intimacy and warmth that professional shoots often lack. I also try to focus on photos that hint at my sexuality rather than make it explicit- something I've often been complimented on. And I both enjoy it and hate it- I enjoy encouraging that gaze, but hate how often that becomes my only facet. I've been gazed at enough to feel ok with my attractiveness in the scheme of things, and rarely envy other women their bodies- but I also have a brain, and creativity, and playfulness, things that objectification doesn't leave room for. And the poses I choose (after paying a lot of attention to what works in advertising) often convey a sense of childishness, of sensuality that comes from submitting to a certain ideal of female behaviour- I do the head cocked to one side, the slightly opened mouth, the big eyes focused on the viewer. I guess I feel confident in my power manipulating the gaze- as the above link says, "women get power from men by using their looks".


Why is that not as much the case of men? I certainly think it is for me- I would be intrigued and turned on by a boy who struck the same poses women do in magazines, poses that suggest vulnerability. When my boy tilts his head to the side, or puts his finger in his mouth, I get wet. There's something immensely hot about how he presents his sensuality to me in a way that's simultaneously submissive and completely aware of what effect he's having. Now, is that a female gaze as it comes from a female, or is it a male gaze because how it manifests? I'm not sure I know the answer.


Fangirls are a perfect example of the female gaze, as this article points out way more succinctly than I can. LJ icons objectify men's bodies and faces in a way that more than mirrors the male gaze- and teen magazines certainly don't put the "heartthrobs" they choose in magazines for their amazing intellect.


Another area that really reflected this was in the OkCupid photo analysis- women should not only look directly into the camera, but actively flirt into it for the highest message count- men, on the other hand, should look away from the camera. Interestingly, however, contrary to popular belief, OkC discovered that if you have a nice body as a man you should take your shirt off and show it- that the shirtless photo was second only to a photo of you with an animal in terms of attention. So perhaps this trend is shifting?

This all finally came to a head for when when reading Julie Bindel's article about going to a "Nyotaimori" party, where guests eat sushi off a still woman's body. I immediately wanted to have a similar party with male sushi tables (interestingly, Seattle and Minnesota have these events with both women and men- yay!)- I mean, think practically, people, men's bodies are a little more flat, thus saving your sushi from falling onto the floor!  I've certainly found them to be good laptop tables in the past. Does my desire for this indicate some sort of unhealthy inability to connect with others, or is it just sexy good fun, along with combining pretty boys and delicious sushi? Is objectifying men wrong? 


Do I care? Nah. The boys I know seem to be ok with it, and their consent is good enough for me.

I'm on this kinky forum type thing. There's a mixture of people there, some professional, some not, and a few people have profiles that link their personal profile to the professional one, so they can maintain a personal account.

I was told by the admin, after 5 years of being on the site, that because my personal profile links to this blog, which then, on the side, links to my professional page, I had to indicate on my personal profile that I was a professional. Never mind that I link to that profile on my page- obviously, if you're a sex worker, you are expected to be marked as one all the time. Either I had to pull my adultwork page off this blog, or I had to be marked as professional on my personal profile.

The reason I maintain a personal profile is because I rarely if ever use forums to meet clients. To acknowledge the professional side of me, I created a profile for that. It doesn't say anywhere I can't link to something personal, like this, that links to my professional pages.

I sincerely doubt it's coincidence after a big uproar that occurred about this event I'm running and advertised (albeit poorly at first) on said forum.

It reminds me that sometimes it feels like being a sex worker means either completely separating both sides of your life, and ne'er the two shall meet, or you aren't really allowed a private life at all. Like being asked details about my work if I'm honest about it at the pub, say, or at a party. I have to be "on" all the time, or pretend both sides of me don't exist. It's infuriating, and depressing, and makes me feel tagged. Marked. Branded.

And not in a sexy way. In a pretty objectified way.

I'm going to start today with this photo, which is meant to illustrate the body weight ideal women have for themselves, men have for women, and the national average. (if you're on the LJ feed, sorry, you have to go to the blog to see!)

I also want to mention here that I've never seen these sorts of photos having to do with men and men's bodies- I suppose because subjecting male bodies to the female gaze is only acceptable as long as they're got white teeth, tanned skin, and big muscles. And even then, it's sort of frivolous silly fun, because women aren't visually stimulated. *cough

Now, additionally, in the comments for this, men tended to say "yes! I'll take them all", thus conforming to their training that sexy naked woman = sexy naked woman they want in their bed servicing them RIGHT NOW, while women wondered, still, why their bodies didn't look anything like that. Even a photo like this, trying to make people feel better about their bodies, serves to only further suggest that, if you're a size 16 and don't have a reasonably flat tummy, well, you're doing it wrong.

Anyway, whatever. None of that had much to do with the point of this particular entry. This one is about the term BBW and my weird, warped, fuck buddy relationship to it.

I used to be a really skinny kid. Tall, lean, tomboyish- then I hit puberty, and exploded out all over the place like a sponge dinosaur. I remember the summer my breasts decided to make an appearance so my parents quickly took  photos of the shirts they designed on me while I still made a good clothes hanger. With the breasts came hips, and thighs, and then I was on medication that added water weight and more hips and more breasts- which, of course, being a socialized female, made me into a bulimic. Not that it helped with anything but making me feel like I had some weird control over my body. Still, I dated, even though I wore incredibly baggy clothes, and even had a boyfriend, my first, who I never recall feeling self conscious around. He made me feel sexy.

Anyway, I gained a fair bit of weight, and generally hated my body, which is nothing new for being a woman, especially in the United States. And that was how I was initiated into the world of BBW-ish labels. I didn't exactly lack for... well, I called them boyfriends, and I'm sure a few of them loved me, but pretty much they were men I let use my body whether or not I was checked into it at the time. And as most of the guys I slept with were pretty focused on cock-orgasm-in-pussy sex. I think that's why I got more into kink- every once in a while I'd meet someone who kinda got me on the kink level and there I felt safe. As soon as it got sexual I'd freeze. I think perhaps I hoped baggy clothes would keep attention away from me... though I met the Scotsboy, my first real Dominant, and he got me wearing the skirts and fishnets and cute panties you see me in today. He loved me and my body, and helped me accept my curves as acceptable, if not beautiful.

Ok, so, yadda yadda, I had a few loving, tender partners, and slowly became the woman blogging to y'all today- relatively confident, pretty much sure of herself, sexually aware. But I've been thinking a lot about the term BBW, and how I never really quite fit in there... though I never fit in the "average" category either. I especially noticed this with sex work- I knew better than to bother with anyone looking for slim women, though would sometimes test the waters if they just said "attractive". In response to my efforts, I was complimented... sometimes. Mostly, I was called a cow.

Until! Until I started using the term "BBW" on my ads and site. Then, I got more questions, more interest, more... letching. But the difference was, these men tended to be more interested in... how did one term it... my "fleshy ass" and "plump pussy lips" than in me as a person. Which is when I realized, BBW wasn't just an adjective... it was an invitation to see my body as a fetish object in itself. And I wasn't, and am still not, sure how I feel about it.

I guess it's like anything- a boy who talks to my face as well as my tits and ass makes me feel adored. A boy who only talks to my body makes me feel like a breathing sex doll. That's not size related. But it's this weird, cold detachment they project on me that makes me feel detached, like this body isn't mine. It's... uncomfortable, and strange. I'm trying to work out if being a BBW is actually a thing of pride or seen as an invitation for people to perv out over my thighs.

It's frustrating beyond belief to not only have the normal bits men get obnoxious about, but also extra fat for them to ladle their commentary on. You can always wear a teeshirt and jeans to hide other bits, but not so your size. And this objectification isn't just sexual- oh no, I can't count the number of women who have asked about my pregnancy or the men who ask me if I make money in this field, being fat. WTF.

As much as I like that there's fat porn on the web- it's very likely to be offensive and humiliate the sex worker, and there's still the attitude of fat girls being worth less and worthless than other models. Fat is used as a slur, not as a retort. And BBW is listed as a fetish on sites like Fetlife.

Do I think that's wrong? Might be a false application of the word fetish, frankly- a preference isn't the same thing- but no, I think fat womens sexuality should be celebrated. I just don't like the idea that someone is getting off on the idea of "forcing" me to do degrading things just because I've got extra pounds. At the same time, we can't help what we're attracted to, right? So it's a confusing argument, and one I think should be slept on at this point.

In my efforts to get back into writing more consistently on this blog I was reading a friend's blog about the G-spot and the hymen, and how these "medical" constructs have been used to pressure and contain women. And of course, not long ago there was that article about how the G-spot may be a myth, oh, what an anticlimax. No headlines pointing out that the clitoris is still a good bet for many women...

What I think is the ultimate irony is that the G-spot and the quest thereof is seen as empowering to women- oh! Look! A new way to have orgasms! How convenient that it just *happens* to be accessed via the vaginal canal, thus providing yet another argument that penetration of some sort is a great way to orgasm.

When I first heard about G-spot stimulation I was initially excited.  I always felt cheated by the fact my clitoris needs 45 minutes of beating with a hammer playing with a Hitachi in order to get a satisfying orgasm, and the fact that no other vibrators worked when I was younger so I gave up and just got more into penetrative sex. Even now cunnilingus is something I enjoy like I enjoy a massage- it's sensual and sexy, but not going to make me cum. Since I'm certain I broke the warranty years ago I guess I'm stuck with it... so of course I was delighted to discover there was another spot I could try.

Then, I was disappointed, over and over again, as lover after lover mauled my insides attempting to locate and attack stimulate that elusive spot. I wanted to be able to ejaculate, so badly, and would pressure myself trying to figure out why I was broken in more ways than one. As a girl who couldn't have clitoral orgasms til I had my hood pierced and then removed, and as a girl who doesn't get wet no matter how turned on I am, I felt and feel sometimes like a failure as a sexual being- which, as a sex worker, is a bit crazy-making sometimes. It took me til I was 22 and in my Human Sexuality class in school for me to uncover the simpler truth- it's not a magical mystical spot, it's the urethral sponge, and yes, you have it, you just might not enjoy the sensation of it. When I found that out, it suddenly made more sense why I enjoyed fingering myself when I peed as a teenager...

I've been able to make myself squirt pretty early on, I just didn't know whether that was ejaculation or just me getting wet. I have had, to date, two people (Gout and Hydragyria) who can consistently make me ejaculate, in copious amounts, regardless of my mental hangups at the time. Maybe it has to do with my comfort with them, or trusting them not to recoil but rather to enjoy it- probably it has to do with their fingers being the right size and being able to rub the sponge in a firm way that works. It's not something I advertise in my work, because it isn't something I feel control over- sometimes my body says yes, sometimes no.

It's not really a big deal, though, for most women, or shouldn't be- sure it's hot, but as most women prefer clitoral stimulation anyway, I think lovers of women should focus their energy on being excellent and creative muffdivers, not probing for some "hidden treasure" or some bullshit. The G-spot thing ended up making many women feel worse about themselves because they couldn't find it, and/or couldn't squirt, and just gave men yet another way to attempt to prove their prowess on our bodies. And I say fuck that.

I am a fat girl.

I'm also a hot girl, a clever girl, a sweet girl, an evil girl, and many other things. But none of those other words seems to make people writhe uncomfortably in their seats as the word fat. But I *like* the word fat, actually. Fat implies fruitfulness, and richness. It's succinct. It allows me to take up space, and I don't apologize for it anymore- not to my family, not to my friends, certainly not to my clients.

I've written about this before but about my insecurities around it in the US, and how I felt about it when a girl I helped get into this business flourished to become far more successful than me, mainly because she's slender. And sometimes, when it's dark and I'm looking over my bank statements I freak out and wonder if I need to work out/lose weight/get surgery just so that I can afford to continue to do this work rather than have a day job and fit it in part time.

But I'm not that kind of sex worker. I'm not a Porn Star Experience (though I wonder if I can claim I am if/when I do a video shoot with Pink and White...). I see myself as a sexy fat queer sex worker and clients not into that can book elsewhere. I'm not in this for them, I'm in it for me.

Now where this becomes interesting is where/how I advertise. Even though I've very positive about my rolls and curves I'm still very careful that the photos I put up show just the right angles- I make sure that my back rolls never or rarely show, that my underarms are well disguised, that my belly is looking round but smooth. And still, when I get naked, while I'm not as scared as I was, it's a HUGE reassuring turn on for my lover to pet or kiss my belly- I want my fat to be acknowledged and deemed sexy, not ignored or not mentioned.

So, thinking about all this made me realize it was about time fat sex workers came out of the shadows- not making their fatness into a fetish, but saying "yeah, here I am, look at me, aren't I beautiful?"

So here goes.

So there's that new facebook meme going around, you know the one: 


"Go to urbandictionary.com, type in your first name, copy and paste this as your status, and put the first entry for your name under comments."


It was amusing at first to see what was said- it was mostly complimentary (though interestingly my name, Kitty, is used by UD to define cockteases, hairy girls, and a "a softer term preferred by adult ladies in an erotic context, which has a totally opposite connotation to the much less socially acceptable term cunt (which is rarely used by proper women and considered offensive)."


Ah, yes, the usual stuff "proper" women do. I wouldn't know, I don't really talk to any. 


Anyway, I hadn't thought much about it until someone commented on an update thusly- "Sigh... I guess only girls can participate, as the male population is only interested in telling the world about how they have constant raging boners the size of Texas. I weep for the future of maledom."


What fascinated me about this is that girls names are being defined on UD (which is ridiculous anyway- where's the editing? What is this, Wikipedia? I have never called someone "a Lisa" or "a Howard" or whatever) by their sexual/seductive characteristics. Mens names often either slag the guy off or say how "cool" he is. Or, of course, it's defined as a slang term for cock. And, more to the point, we're all playing along in our Facebooks, giggling at the compliments like a bunch of silly schoolchildren.


Do I think of this as a Wrong to be Righted? No, not really, I just see it as a reflection of society's expectations as a whole- women/the feminine defined by their ability to attract/appeal to/keep a mate, while men/the masculine defined by their status.  


Ah, gender roles. How you perpetuate yourselves in the strangest ways...

Well, it's been about a month since my last confess... oh, no, wait, that's not right.

I've done it at last- I've moved to London! And I'm getting married tomorrow! Holy shit!

Let's see, to catch up-

-went to Vegas with Vapours, which was fun in some ways and hard in others. Sadly our relationship didn't survive the trip- but our friendship has, so that's good. Mono and I also split up, which was painful, but necessary for both of our emotional well being. I think it was hard for them both that I was moving to London, and that there's so much I don't click with in San Francisco, that they felt rejected... and that sucks, but I truly feel that my life is here, in London, in so many ways. So... yeah.

-I had my 26th birthday, complete with fantastic red velvet cake, Apples to Apples, and a bunch of amazing lovely friends. I blew out my candles and felt really really happy. Then I went to my last San Francisco Kinky Salon and had a great time, and a great sendoff. <3

-So this boy I had been interested in for a while came to my birthday party. Very cute, just the right amount of muscle, kinda queer, artistic, burner, reads, mathy, geeky, kinky, poly...! Amazing. So we had dinner. And we had an amazing night/morning/afternoon, full of biting and bruising and kisses and snuggles and giggles and awkward topping... topped off with a forked.tongue. which I'm still totally not over. I spent the night with him the night before I left, and totally cemented a huge crush. And so, we discussed what ailment he should be, and.... hydrargyria, of course. Obviously I like to be torn between two countries! But oh. He's worth feeling torn over. For sure.


-La, my girlfriend out here in London, has been having a rough time of it and I've been trying to be supportive and help her out. She's a lovely girl who's just lost her way and lost some hope, I think. So, please, send some <3 my way and I'll redirect it to her, yeah? She can use some positive energy boosts.


-Back in London, I went with a friend of mine from SF to a psychobilly concert- totally moshed in my femmewear, heels and all, and am only now recovering fully from the sore thighs. Mmm. Just what I needed to get some aggro/anxiety out! Had a blast hanging out with him, as he's known me for a really long time- it's always nice to hear from someone how much you've progressed. It made me feel really proud.


-And, the big news- tonight is my stag party (did you think I was going to have a hen party? I mean really) and then tomorrow... I'm getting married. Yikes! I'm excited for this new stage in my life, and terrified, too. The idea that at this time tomorrow I will be a married woman is just totally crazy. O.o


For now, that'll have to do- I'll get back to politics and stuff once this wedding is out of the way!!

I was reading the Queer Fat Femme's blog, and came across this:

Today is the International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers.

Today, a man in Utah was sentenced to jail time for raping a Utah college student. He was also accused of killing, not one, but three prostitutes... but the case was thrown out because a witness lacked credibility. In the US, it's hard for me not to feel bitter and wonder if it was that, or just that the women were prostitutes, and therefore not considered worth an in-depth investigation.

Meanwhile, an Indian sect is telling its members to marry prostitutes, supposedly ones who were forced into it, to help give them better lives. Many of these women have children, and many are HIV positive. But will the men they marry treat them well..? It's a bit of a concern, throwing off one set of shackles for another...

Copenhagen warned people coming to the climate change discussion not to frequent sex workers via postcards sent to each of the participants. The postcards read "Be sustainable: Don't buy sex". In a brilliant move, the sex workers offered free sex to anyone producing these postcards and flashing a badge for the conference. While I commend the response, I'm annoyed that Copenhagen, which is one of the few countries wherein sex work is legal, just not brothels, felt they had the right to take a political stance on a legal activity. Shame on you, Copenhagen!

And in New Zealand, a cop has been arrested for using his privilege/power to threaten a sex worker into free sex with him- basically, he used his badge to rape her. Lovely. But at least he has two years in jail for it... though, may I point out, only two years. For threatening and raping a woman. WTF. And the headlines say "cop jailed for forcing prostitute to have sex"... not "for rape". Why does it matter that she's a prostitute?

But, in better news, only three days ago Nevada passed a method to test men for hiring in their brothels- which is fantastic, because I wonder if it's a sign that women are being seen are possible clients, at long last. Men being subjected to the female gaze! One of my favourite things, as I'm sure you all know.

It can be easy where sex work is relatively legal, especially if you're a middle class white woman working along and indoors, to forget how many different ways governments and cultures commit violence against sex workers. It's not just the blase attitude to sex workers who are raped, robber, beaten or killed. It's also the ways in which governments prevent sex workers speaking for themselves on what makes a safe work environment, the fact police often ignore or are violent towards these people, the fact that media still thinks that a dead hooker is a funny hooker. Read this list of victims, updated every year. It's not funny to them, or those who know and loved them. Just this October in Brighton, it was Andrea Waddell- a trans woman with a Masters degree who worked as a sex worker, strangled to death in her flat. And it's legal in England, and Andrea was educated, white, middle class- never mind the many women where it's illegal, where their families have disowned them, where their bodies are unidentified, or may never be found.

Every day is a day to remember and fight against violence against sex workers.