In my last post I left you guys hanging with cancer thoughts and flea infestations. And by you guys, I mean the three people who stumble upon this blog because they Google “Kate Winslet naked,” and this comes up. Welcome, friends!

I apologize for my leave of absence, but here I am now giving you the fun news.

So my mom was officially diagnosed with COLON CANCER. Continue reading

It should be.

He looked at me over the dinner I just made for us. Garlic sautéed bell peppers, wine, and dyed eggs sat between us.

“How could anyone ever be mean to you?” he said referring to the very limited information I had relayed about MF.

I smiled. But I wanted to cry.

“I’m serious. How? You are so nice, and caring, and…” His words trailed off and everything was a little fuzzy, including the velvet seat beneath my rump. I really have no idea what he said to me after that.

When I came back to Earth, “Well you deserve it. You are always thoughtful of me. Always asking me how I am. Always thinking of me. You are unlike anyone I have ever met,” I told him.

Immediately I regretted saying that last line. So cliche and dumb. Can we rewind and make me sound a little less like an ass? Nope. Ok well, moving forward.

“But that’s all normal stuff,” he said.

“No, it’s really not,” I said.

“Well it should be,” he smiled.

This past Sunday I planned a surprise day for Mr. M.

He has been working incredibly hard on some projects at work and the stress was wearing on him. And despite all of the stress, he was still wonderful to me. He didn’t ignore me, or treat me strangely. He even surprised me with cupcakes from Cuppies & Joe.

Red VinesAnd his surprise day was based around one thing. A bath. Funny, I know. But awhile back Mr. M mentioned he hadn’t had a bath in like a year. His current shower situation didn’t allow for baths. And I just found that unacceptable, since baths are a regularity in my life. I bought man wash (aka Old Spice), a man louffa (silver man color), Red Vines (his favorite man candy), and bath salts (that weren’t really so manly in any scent).

I cleaned my bathroom from head to toe, lit some candles, put on some relaxing music (Bon Iver Pandora station) and welcome Relax Town USA!

And before the best bath ever, we dyed eggs, in honor of Easter and really just in honor of the fact that dying eggs is an incredible amount of fun. We chomped on bread and brie, sipping some wine, and coming up with crazy egg creations.

Then I snuck away to get the bath ready. “Get naked,” I told him. And he did. Remember, the Vow is (semi intact). So no funny business, just a warm, relaxing bath.

While Mr. M bathed away his stress I started dinner. I was finishing everything up when he walked in.

After the fuzzy moments I mentioned above, our conversation continued… “No one has ever done something for me this nice,” he said.

“Well, that’s unfortunate…ever?” I was confused. Mr. M was one of the kindest guys I had ever met. No one ever did things like this for him?

“No, I’m usually the one doing stuff like this,” he said.

“Well it’s all normal stuff.”

“Not for me,” he was acting a little different.

“Well, it should be,” I said and we both smiled at our realization that we both thought it should be for different (yet I guess, the same) reasons.

Yours thinking about how it should be the case that we think about the ones we are with a little more often (but why don’t we?),


Barenaked Ladies

I got naked for art yesterday. Yup.

Kate Winslet

Don't freak, this is not me. This is Kate Winselt from Titanic.

NAKED. Like bare ass. No Fruit of the Loom to hide behind. There I was (we were) naked in front of my friend and former lover, Allen ( #7 on the “Where I’m Comin’ From” list).

He’s in art school for gaming and 3D design (something cool like that) and he’s in a life drawing class. He asked his friends if they would be interested in posing nude for his personal work. No one wanted to.

And since the best sex of my life, we have kept in touch. We are friends. So, it wasn’t completely out of left field when I got the message. I mean, when I first got the message I thought, well that sounds kind of fun. I’ve always thought it would be fun to model nude since Titanic came out (I was in 6th grade).

But then I started thinking more about it. Naked. Like this is all out there naked. But he has already seen me. It was over a year ago, but still, it wasn’t all out in front of lights and posing. It was in the throws of passion and (forgiving) mood lighting. So I talked myself out of it. It was stressing me out thinking about it, so I decided maybe not.

Then I brought it up with my girly friend. “So, I’m thinking of modeling nude for a friend. Should I do it?” She was immediately giddy with excitement (and wine) “Yes! You should do it! I’ll do it. Let’s do it!” And so we did.

If there is any perfect time to pose nude and have a talented artist draw you it’s 1) when you are single and 2) when you are young.

We qualified.

And it was amazing. And I learned something. I grew a little bit.

Being naked in front of my friend and Allen was a little strange at first. I found myself avoiding looking down. Like if I didn’t look down I wouldn’t remember that my junk was all out. And then after 10 minutes or so it was better. It wasn’t weird. We got into a rhythm and it was fun. I came up with some ideas. I felt pretty. I felt like when I was little and I would throw all of my clothes off because they were in the way. I would run around and no one got mad at me or told me to put my clothes back on. They let me be little and naked. I always felt pretty.

The older I got the more clothes and being pretty became something to worry about. I was poor, or rather my single mom and I were poor. I didn’t have the cool clothes. But I wanted them. I was wrapped up in what Cosmo Girl told me was pretty. I wanted those things. It’s funny how much your perception of pretty and “cool” changes between the ages of 12-25. My first word as a baby was “pretty.” Mostly due to the fact that my mom and grandma called everything pretty. Pretty airplane. Pretty sky. Pretty picture. I perched up on the crib railing one night cooing, “Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty.” And up until I was 10 or so I actually called my vagina “pretty.” It wasn’t a down-there, or a vagina, it was my pretty. When I realized it technically wasn’t called this, I was a little sad. Those around me were weirded out. Looking back, I think it’s sweet.

Standing there naked brought me back to small me memories. But in a grown up me. A woman. A woman’s body. The imperfections. The scars. the moles. The razor burn. It was me. And I had to be ok with it. I was ok with it. I was proud of me. I was pretty.

I’m glad I experienced this with my friend and with Allen. With friends I trust and respect very much. And at the end of the day, it gave me something that I had no idea it would. A kind of strange confidence and sense of self. And mom not included, this was the first time I have been naked in front of someone and not in a sexual way. It’s definitely something I will never forget.

And I get to keep the artwork. Ya know, for a rainy day when I’m wondering what I look like naked because I’m too lazy to take off my clothes and look. I’ll have it forever. And maybe, one day, it will mean something like Rose’s naked drawing from Titanic. Who was this lady? Where did she come from? She’s pretty.

Yours baring it all,