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Hips and the City

So...in honor of the wondrous Stephanie Klein and her lovely Greek Tragedy blog, I have decided to embark on my own blog journey -- replete with blurred exhibitionism, laughter, cravings, and general angst. So what's it like to be a single zaftig woman in a big city? Well, stay tuned to find out. Some days are prettier than others.
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Broiling Alive

Some of you might not be aware of this but Chicago has morphed into the fiery pits of Hell, with atrocious sunburned feet to boot. See, this is why I hate summer, for this exact reason. Why do people insist on wearing flip flops in the sun? I can't tell you how many hundreds of sunburned feet I witnessed just last week alone. Jan managed to drag Diana and me to the beach on Sunday, where we both proceeded to bake and die immediately. Jan didn't care -- he was busy working on his "sex tan." You know, the kind where there's a dramatic tan line around the hips. The Swedes sure know how to tan, don't they? you would think with them being Nordic that they would just burn to a crisp, but no -- golden brown goodness all the time. This weekend, Diana's apartment was a cooling center. We conked out with old Glamours and iced raspberry-lemon tea. I don't know why Diana is afraid to throw away magazines. I swear there is a 1997 issue of Glamour with some supe
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Milestone

We finally had sex. Real sex. The kind that leaves you sleepy, exhausted, and tingly throughout the night. I showed up to his apartment, carrying Elexa freshening cloths and condoms. I came ready to go on an adventure, the adventure he promised me.  An adventure it was.    The sex lasted hours. We started at 7 P.M., and ended (by falling asleep in front of his fire place) at around midnight. He tapped into every sexual zone -- toe sucking, massage, and even restraining me while he had his way with me (really loved that!). I was thoroughly orgasmed! Absolutely NO NEED to frake .  He was fascinated by my ability to squirt. He even stopped mid-thrust to examine the liquid. "It's not pee," I said. He looked at me as though I'd insulted him. "I don't care if it is. What does it feel like?" I urged him to continue thrusting and I would describe the process as it happens.  But you'll have to wait to read the rest, I've got a ton of laundry to do. I j
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"...'Tis the Season.."

To be fucking jolly. If by jolly the saying means destroying a much-loved pair of shoes while Christmas shopping. That serves me right for shopping for cashmere sweaters, pearl earrings, and DVDs in four-inch heels, in this seriously fucked weather. Okay, so I wear Uggs out the house, but then I slip my feet into a sinful pair of stilettos when I reach my destination. Sure, frumpy Walmart queens and flat-footed soccer moms are staring at my shoes and wondering how do I do it. Do I tread the slushy city streets in foot porn all year round? Hell no. I know the power of creating porn with your feet, and so I try my hardest to present the most hardcore of porn. However, a day shopping with Jan will render every pair of shoes with impractical heels major softcore. Jan must go to every store in Chicago and the suburbs to find an effing antique lamp "that will fit perfectly in Henry's store." Jan explains that lighting is important when people are spending their money. "
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