Quasi-Daily Writing – December 30, 2011 – What’s with all the apples?

So this will be yet another musing upon ecstatic, probably carnal-in-some-way moments. Imaginations are encouraged.

So many of my ecstatic, epiphanic moments lately seem to have to do with apples. In this case, I was in the bathroom sitting with the hubby while he shaved and showered, just because I wanted to be near him. With my iPhone, of course, clicking through Facebook as I sat. I suddenly garnered a want for an apple. I knew there was one in the fridge, that he had eaten its twin the night before and been disappointed with it. Still I wanted it and hoped for more success. So I ran to the fridge, garnered the poor doomed apple, and hurried back to the bathroom. And, as it happened, I lucked out. It was crunchy and sweet and intoxicating and soon I left off the iPhone altogether and stood up to do a little dance while I ate my apple, eventually coming to rest against the towel rack. I felt exceedingly lazy and rather happy; and then I caught myself in the mirror. The angle of my body, the arm resting languidly over my head, the apple at my mouth…I suddenly began giggling and said to the husband, “Look!”

He looked in my reflection’s direction and smirked. “Yes, Eve, you’re very pretty.” At which, of course, I played my part and offered him the apple.

“No! No! That’s how we all go into this mess in the first place, remember?” he laughed. I just batted my eyes.

“But I know so many nice things now,” I protested before taking another sweet bite.

Yes, yes, blasphemous and whatnot, I suppose some would say. But it was fun and I enjoyed the way I looked in the mirror with my hair tumbling in its curls over my shoulder, the red highlights standing out in the bathroom lights. It was one of the moments of contentment with myself that I have come to treasure. I leaned against the towel rack and finished my dear apple down to the very core, contemplated having a friend of mine take pictures of me like this some day, and just enjoyed that ecstatic moment in peace. Which the hubby didn’t mind at all, me or my reflection.


Daily Writing – September 23, 2011 – I Love My Legs

I love my legs. I really do. My thighs, not so much. But my legs. Oh, honey! Who would have thought that a woman who is only 5’1 without heels on could have such long legs? I distinctly remember the first time I ever wore a knee-length skirt. I just sort of marveled at the way my own legs looked stretching beneath the skirt to my high-heeled sandals. I said, surprised, “I have nice legs.”

To which, my mother replied, “Of course you do. Just no one ever sees them.”

Well, I’ve changed that trend over the past 14 years. I’ve learned the value of a shorter skirt, the freedom of shorts, and the seduction of a knee-length pencil skirt. I have come to love my legs, to know the power of a well-shod foot and, as they would say, well-turned calf. I’ve learned just the right shoes to give even more length and shape to my legs. I will forever have the thighs of Ebanks women but a long enough skirt or dress can hide that and still show off a great pair of gams.

When I was lying down on the floor on my side once, a friend pointed to me, running their finger through the air over the line of my legs and just sort of sighed, “Look at that.” I think I blushed at that moment but it felt good. Just like it does when Ben runs his hands over my legs, or scratches gently at my thigh, or kisses my ankle.

Yeah. I think I love my legs.