That’s Just Paint

I was walking through the renfair campgrounds in nothing but a tutu, fishnet stockings and pirate boots. Let’s start with: there’s a situation I never really thought I’d be in. I’m proud to say alcohol was not involved. 

So there I was in my little outfit. I will now add I had a simple paint job, including glitter and jewels, across my boobs. On the way back to camp some chick stopped me with “oh my god that’s just paint”. She then proceeded to caller friends back to gawk. Drunk? She didn’t seem it. Seriously she was a girl. I’m sure she’d seen boobs before. 

At some point she realized she was being an ass and said she found me impressive. Ok…I guess. It will be a story that makes me giggle until I die though. Not only does her odd reaction make me laugh, but I get to look back and say “yeah…I did that.”



I always wanted to do “crazy” things. I wanted give a stranger a lap dance, play naked Jenga, and wear something extremely sexy. I didn’t. I don’t as nervous or scared or self concious or….I didn’t. Fuck the reason.

And people pushed. 

One day I found myself at a BDSM club meeting. The very essence of this is sex, in a way, and I was there because there because it was something I wanted. Yet no one pushed. 

And people offered cookies.

Within a few parties I was naked on a cross. And I can’t wait to do it again. There’s something to be said about consent that comes about out of given consent. Not coercion or alcohol induced but something you comfortably do. It’s empowering and and a joy for more than just the person watching. 

I will forever defend a person whether they keep their close on or take them all off. I wish more people realized this.