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Archive for the ‘body image’ Category

Oasis and Jen just launched a new blog carnival that posts on Sundays. Here’s this week’s theme:

Our theme for this week is: Tell and/or show us your first naughty naked picture.

Everyone with a cell phone nowadays seems to be snapping off (and sxting) naked pictures of themselves – teenagers, celebrities, politicians. When did you take your first seXXXy naked pic? Who’d you bare it all for? And maybe most importantly, what was their reaction? And hey, if you’ve still got it, go ahead and show it!

My first naughty naked picture was taken right about the time I started growing pubes, so I definitely cannot post it here. Plus right about the time I was growing pubes was in the early eighties so we didn’t HAVE camera phones or the internet (or wishlists to get paid on the internet for our naughty pics). So naughty naked pictures were rare and unphotoshopped and glossy.

Around 4th or 5th grade I was pretty excited to get a Kodak disc camera (I told you; it was the 80’s! When disc cameras were fucking STYLIN’ and new!). I stayed excited about it until my friend Irene got one, too.

Copycat. She already had everything . . . why’d she have to get the one cool thing I had too?

Sleepovers only happened at Irene’s house, not at my house. My mom rarely let our friends spend the night, but we could go to other girls’ houses. So one night we were in her fancy girly bedroom – four poster bed, matchy-matchy furniture, etc. – and decided to play model & photographer. I didn’t have my camera with me, but Irene had hers, of course.

I pretended to be the photographer first while Irene modeled. I didn’t press the button to take pictures, I just made a clicking sound with my mouth and encouraged her, like “good . . . CHT! More . . . CHT! Very sexy . . . CHT! CHT!”

Then it was my turn to be the model. I took off all of my clothes while Irene played photographer. BUT SHE PRESSED THE BUTTON AND TOOK A REAL PICTURE!

We looked at each other all shocked and scared. When Irene gets scared and ashamed, her eyes get so big and her mouth so open. “What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do??” She was quivering with fear, and it was ME naked in the picture!

I was like, “here, just take out the disc and we’ll break it up and throw it away – make sure your mom doesn’t find it!”

Irene held fast to her camera and told me I didn’t understand.

“No! We can’t throw it away! I’ll get in trouble!!”

“WHY? It’s *your* camera.” You’re the rich one, Irene. You have tons of stuff and probably half a dozen discs of film waiting to be used.

“I have pictures of our family camping trip on there!!”

Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice.

“I have to tell my mom”

Fantastic. I should have known better than to play model and photographer with a girl who thought we were gay for humping each other and confessed to her mom when she stole candy.

*****

Irene’s mom was actually pretty cool about being woken up by her tear-stained daughter to  hear this particular confession in the kitchen with just a light from the pantry on while I just STOOD there. Irene’s mom said something reassuring about how little girls sometimes do these things and play with each other and she’d done it too (like, ONCE or something). And then she had us pray to Jesus about it. It actually wasn’t as freaky as it sounds even though Irene’s mom definitely was/is a conservative Jesus freak.

I was not soothed by the unfamiliar prayers (or by Irene’s mom being in agreement with her that the film with the precious camping pictures should NOT be destroyed), but it calmed Irene down and she went right to sleep after that while I was embarrassed and annoyed there would be no humping that night.

*****

Allow me to remind you again that this was the early eighties, and apparently totally normal / not a crime for a family to take a disc of film in for development that included a picture of a young girl’s bald naked front-crack.

So like a month later we were playing I-don’t-know-what on her Atari (I probably wasn’t even playing, but just WATCHING her play, because it was HER Atari and HER fancy house and instead of playing Pac-Man she’d opt to demonstrate a bunch of games I didn’t know how to play because she just wanted to show off and knew I didn’t have an Atari) and she got all serious and told me sotto voce that they got the pictures back.

I really wanted to have my picture, but she said they cut it up with scissors into itty bitty pieces. Because it was evil.

“What did I look like?”

“Really REALLY white. And skinny. Your head wasn’t in it, but we could see your crack. You looked gross.”

*****

So! That’s how my friend and her mom and dad all got to see my first naughty naked picture. And I didn’t.

Read more posts on FIRST naughty naked pics!

My girlfriend is getting bigger boobs!!

Yeah, old news to some of you, but I don’t think I’ve blogged about it yet so I’m taking this opportunity to celebrate and share the news with you. We’re taking a trip next week for Delia to get consultations with a couple of out-of-state surgeons so the reality is setting in that THIS IS REALLY GOING TO HAPPEN and I’m getting very excited about it.

Yes, I love the puffy-nipple hormone titties Delia has now and I was very VERY excited about those growing in, but I surprised myself by feeling sort of conflicted about her little puberty-boobs. And you can kind of see why, can’t you, when I go into dirty-old-man-speak like that, right? You know I am a sucker for taboo role plays and the idea of pert buds of breasts, but sometimes I gross myself out getting off on that when they’re so REAL. It feels like I’m doing something criminal when I fondle them and I haven’t had the time or courage to really work that out yet. And now? I DON’T HAVE TO! Because my girlfriend is getting implants!! Unambiguously GROWN-UP boobs!

Underneath the cherry excitement of having a girlfriend about to get big fancy titties, there has been a foundational experience making it possible: having a special donor/philanthropist/able investor/friend come forward and send Delia THOUSANDS of dollars. And when none of the Pacific Northwest docs friends referred her to would do boob jobs on transsexuals and seeing that things were going to cost more? He stepped up and sent THOUSANDS MORE so we can make this trip and find the right doctor and make sure she gets the beautiful jugs she deserves and I dream she’s dreamed of.

I feel like I’m exploiting Sweet T. by publicly talking this way about the money he sent, but trust me, I do it with adoration and a wriggle of shivery delight (and imagine the words “adoration and a wriggle of shivery delight” being spoken in his delicious accent). I know this is the kind of story that makes chicks feel excited, happy for each other, and not just a little jealous. It’s the kind of story you WANT to read in a webwhore blog and know that it’s not a lie or crazy fantasy someone made up.

Some of you might be too jaded to appreciate this with purity, but it’s honestly an experience that reminds me (again) that there are people with money (some more, some less) who really want to use it to make people happy and give someone they admire something she longs for. Yeah, there’s the bonus of seeing the new boobies and having a hand in crafting an element of someone else’s experience, but with something as straightforward as boobs . . . I don’t know how to describe it without using the word pure. It’s very tangible and direct.

It’s exciting, because of the gifts AND because we’re sharing the excitement with someone else . . . it’s magnifying the experience, drawing it out of the mundane of doctor appointments and personal responsibilities and worries that would otherwise bog it down. Knowing that Tom is excited about the outcome and taking care of the most worrisome aspect of it leaves us free to enjoy the process and look forward to the results. It’s like a fun movie or fairy tale or something . . . more like what I think people outside of our internet porn world IMAGINE our lives are like all the time as chicks with our own porn sites. It’s affirming and a relief to have a story we can tell friends and family that actually lives up to their more positive expectations and wild imaginings (people mistakenly assume having your own internet porn site means fortune and large numbers of fans).

Note: I do not want to discount all of the people who send us smaller gifts and contributions — you are appreciated and definitely not forgotten, and there were many of you who helped with Delia’s boob job fund. The amount of people who support us and our work is profound in our lives, even if it hasn’t made us rich. All of you have made us want to keep doing it. And getting thousands of dollars at one time from one person? Just helps solidify our commitment / the feeling that it’s worth it. Again, though, I don’t want you to think we don’t notice some of our long-time members who have spent thousands of dollars on us over the years. Thank you!

Yesterday marked a very special occasion on the girl-getting-breast-augmentation journey; Delia bought her first dress especially to go with and show off the bigger boobs she’s getting. Oh good lord, that was exciting. Maybe more for me than her . . . I was practically fucking salivating thinking about how gorgeous she’ll look in that dress and what her tits are going to look like in that flimsy fabric and WHAT THEY’LL LOOK LIKE AFTER I POUR WATER ALL OVER HER AND GET THEM DRIPPING WET AND YOU CAN SEE HER HARD NIPPLES THROUGH THE FABRIC and then Delia started laughing at me because I was pawing at the air in circles, middle finger tracing her erect nipples in the sky, as I described my enthusiasm for these near-future visions of hotness.

So yeah, buying the dress to go on the new boobs definitely amped up my giddiness. Weeks ago I actually wasn’t sure if I wouldn’t rather be able to go to Disneyland instead, but the dress clinched it — boobs totally trump Space Mountain.

*****

I don’t know if posts like these surprise people who think I’m all “NATURAL BODIES OR DIE!!” (and take the culture thieves at Disney with you!) I do wish for more acceptance of and appreciation for natural bodies (and especially less open revulsion/disgust) and I do think cosmetic surgery is very problematic and dangerous and worth thinking/talking about critically (meaning with your thinking cap on, not just negatively shredding apart) and overall WAY WAY WAY WAY TOO COMMON, like it’s fucking endemic to being a first world woman over thirty, but oh man, I do love some artifice and craftiness, too. I’m not saying it makes all or even most women look “better” (not at all), I am just acknowledging that it makes them look different and I am not bothered by those differences as a default. And sometimes I really admire the differences and appreciate that plastic aesthetic (and would a lot more if it weren’t so fucking ubiquitous).

What I mean to say is that when Delia got her first (and only so far) Botox injections a few months ago IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME. Even though I was there when she did it and should’ve made the connection, about a week afterwards and for a month from then I was blown away whenever I looked at her, like OHMYGODyou’reSOlovely I COULD WEEP! And I didn’t recognize it as “that botox is really working wonders”, it was just that she looked like she always does but with a special softer glow. It was like a really subtle, masterful, living-and-breathing photoshop effect. She only got it around her eyes, brows and bridge of her nose and it was really cool. I don’t know why they’re saying Botox is going out of style, because it seems quite splendid to me.

But I know it’s really terrible to spend money on that when there are children starving in Africa everywhere. On the other hand, it is our job to be attractive and Delia never got to be a young woman while she was young, so fuck that guilt.

*****

I was also going to blog about Delia’s internal penis bumps, but this entry got out of hand length-wise so I’ll save it for next time. I know, I utilize the most erotic turns of phrase to keep you checking back for more.

I wish I’d have appreciated my 18-year old body and taken care of it when it was close to perfectible.

That’s what I was ABOUT to tweet, until I realized it’s a lie. I *did* appreciate my eighteen year old body. I’d been appreciating my maturing body for years in front of the mirror, naked. Or in this one awesome pair of yellow string bikini panties, very eighties style, with the tiny triangle and the extreme V sitting up high on the hips. I remember the brand was “Eve” and I got them at Lamont’s. I danced around in those and fondled myself . . . admired myself from all angles.

When I finally got my own room at eighteen I took it to a whole other level. With privacy, I could light candles and make a whole elaborate masturbation ritual out of it. I’d put music on the stereo I bought myself, one component at a time from Crutchfield, and stand in front of my white mirrored dresser (an antique handed down to me from my mom) rifling through my panty drawer and meager selection of “sexy” stuff.

I almost always wound up pulling on a hot little ivory Christian Dior thong: lace in the back and satin in front with, again, a sweet dip down in the front punctuated with a tiny circle of faux-pearls. Then I’d have to choose between my two pairs of elbow-length gloves: white satin or white lace. You have no idea how much gloves turn me on. It’s not so much the wearing them (though I do like that, too), but looking at them on someone else.

So I would look at myself in the mirror but from a vast distance. I so wanted my gloved hands to be like other teenaged girls’ gloved hands: hot, with the satin stretched TIGHT and their soft, fleshy girl hands emanating sweaty uncomfortable heat. The other girls didn’t like to wear gloves, but FUCK I *loved* them and I wanted to be able to squeeze their hands and never let them go and stroke up and down their arms with my own satin gloves, or bare-handed, and have them squeeze me ALL OVER. Hot, fat, filled-out shiny satin arms and fingers over rustling dresses.

Anyway, my hands never looked that sexy in gloves — they looked thin and insubstantial like flat playing cards. But my arms looked delicious with the satin pushed down just enough to make wrinkles. In addition to being extremely turned on by gloves, I’m also extremely turned on by tight, wrinkled fabrics on long, slender girl arms or legs. Or fat girl arms or legs. WHATEVER. Point is, I still got very, very excited putting on my gloves and admiring myself in the candlelight.

I often switched back and forth between the two pairs of gloves. The lace ones reminded me of the Billy Idol White Wedding video and THAT brought to mind long-festering taboo fantasies of someone who looked (to me) just like him, but better . . . and worse. Rebel Yell, Eyes Without a Face, Sweet Sixteen, White Wedding, Dancing with Myself . . . yeah. Billy Idol fetish planted when I was way too little and he was way too recognizable for me to think it was silly or to resist it or analyze it.

Not that I thought about him when I masturbated. Not very much anyway. I mean, it would only have taken a few seconds of thought allowed to stray in that direction. What I would do, though, in the buildup, is I would arrange the candles in such a way that my shadow was projected on the wall. I’d inflate my chest to highlight a profile of my breast, then I’d have my hand come at it from an unnatural direction, like my boob belonged to someone else. I’d reach in and trace the silhouette of my breast. I’d pull away and reach back to touch and fondle it, over and over again, spying on this other person’s boob being teased and stroked. It’s always been WATCHING my breasts being touched that really initially arouses me. Without watching the hands on my boobs, the sensation of having my breasts touched is actually pretty boring a lot of the time.

I’d mount the corner of my mattress then, again with the candles arranged so I could spy on my shadow, and hump the edge of my bed until I came, over and over again. Sometimes I could just drag myself against the flat of my mattress and that would work, too. I’d watch the shadow of my boob hovering there, and dip myself down to make my nipple touch the mattress. It wasn’t part of the position that made me come, but the sight of that woman’s body touching and being touched made me very excited.

At that age I did feel lonely and wish I could do some of these things with a guy (which kind of doesn’t even make sense when I think about it). More than that, though, I felt a sense of loss that I was young and the only person who was admiring my body. I did feel very strongly that it should be worshipped and felt like the time to do that, the ripe teenaged time, would be over before anyone did.

Many times I felt like someone was standing outside spying on me. I even felt like I could hear them. But I tried to tell myself I was being paranoid and not to worry about it, because every time I tried to catch them, there was no one there.

As it turned out, of course there WAS someone there. Many different people at different times. Everyone from the guy I lost my virginity to, to the village idiot, to the felon who supplied the highest cop with pot (at least, that’s what we figured when we did eventually catch him outside my window and the cop said it was no big deal — he was just standing on cinder blocks he’d stacked up to peer through my blinds “to get high”). It was horribly embarrassing to think about, so I tried not to because there was nothing I could do about it. They’d already seen everything (even more than the masturbating) and knew all of my secrets. Except for the Billy Idol guy that was only in my head. I mean, they knew him too, but not that I thought about him that way.

*****

If I could go back I would nail up a billion blankets over those crappy fucking blinds. I would find a way to make it fair, to make myself paid and worshiped. For me to be the one in control. I know that because of the other things they saw me do, I was like a weird freak show to them, but they were total fucking freaks too and somehow that means I have a weird bond with them for the rest of my life.

I can still remember one of them, the one I had sex with, laughing at me when I was humping his leg without me knowing why he was laughing except that I guessed I was doing everything wrong, even though that was what was going to make me come. It wasn’t until later that I realized he was one of them and all the things he saw. It makes no sense how humiliated I still feel remembering him mocking me when I know now what a dangerously fucked-up individual he was/is. He had such an unfair advantage over me, but he probably thought the same thing of me just by default since he couldn’t last more than twelve pumps. Which of course I actually enjoyed, or WOULD HAVE enjoyed if he’d have gone again. But he never did. Of course, he DID go down on me, but I totally didn’t get that — it was such a foreign sensation that I’d never planned for even though I’d masturbated so often to images of other women’s pussies being licked. I don’t think I understood that I was more interested in going down on chicks than having anyone go down on me.

When I was young, the only true pleasure I experienced on my own terms was by myself. I guess I wish I would have accepted that, made myself more powerful (both physically and . . . spiritually?), and found the confidence and the people to negotiate those terms for myself. I know it’s shallow, but now that I’m older and I can see my body starting to disintegrate and loosen into loose flesh and little balls of fat and poison, I wish I would have ran as fast as I could for miles and taken dance classes and learned how to stretch and spent many many MORE hours in front of not just one mirror, but a fucking roomful of mirrors.

I wish I’d have known about getting paid to stomp on men. I wish I’d have had sex with women sooner. Like that hot Belgian pharmacist with the leather skirt I worked with.

SO MANY MISSED OPPORTUNITIES.

I’m editing this older set of photos I’ve been “sitting” on (and yeah, they will make ass-lovers think a lot about other things I could sit on):

I wish my butt really looked like this all the time . . . and three times BIGGER:

While I’m on the subject of ass-loving, I wanted to congratulate Undress Jess for winning the contest; thanks, those of you who voted!

Anyway, back to MY butt . . . I love that outfit but I’m going to have to cull a lot of photos from the set; there are things I love about being chubby, and other things that make doing this work a lot tougher when I am. Sadly, when I feel unhappy with seeing my double chins and belly rolls in pictures, it only makes me want to get into bed with a trough of mashed potatoes and gravy and SHOVEL IT IN AS FAST AS I CAN. With a fucking tub of greasy stuffing with giblets and just the fatty skin from the turkey.

But yeah. The good pics are better because of the weight. But there are just more BAD pics, is the problem. So this might be a smaller set than usual.

I tossed and turned for hours last night and eventually got really aroused so I woke Delia up slowly by playing with her nipples, first over her shirt and then under her shirt. Then I rearranged her arm, spreading it out along my pillow so I could nestle against her and start sucking her tits, moving my hand down to play with her cock (which I eventually sucked too, but just a little because mostly I wanted to fuck her).

Almost every single doorknob in this house is busted or only half-works, including the one to our bedroom. With the windows open in the house all night to keep us cool in the warm weather, our bedroom door gets sucked open and slammed shut. Last night a phantom breeze opened so I let it stay that way even though my mom was asleep in our guestroom down the hall. I knew she wouldn’t wake up, but still tried to be quiet. For once it was Delia instead of me who couldn’t be quiet. Her boobs are SO sensitive.

Sometimes when I can’t make noise during sex it sucks, and other times it allows me to focus even more on the sensations I’m feeling. Like last night when I came. Hard, clamping down. And then made Delia come inside me.

I still couldn’t fall asleep so I sort of meditated on the feeling of stickiness where my ass cheeks meet my thighs and smelling my pussy and her semen all mixed together on my fingers. Eventually I turned on my booklight and looked at my fingertips shining from the moisture reflecting the blue light.

*****

We had a really nice visit with my mom who drove all the way out here spontaneously to spend a couple of days with us. It worked out well without any other family here and with the weather nice enough to get out of the house. My mom needs to have activities and I guess so do I when we’re together because otherwise all of the chatting winds up getting to me. We tired her out with a long walk and before that I took out an instructional stretch DVD, one that I’ve given her a copy of along with a yoga mat but that she never uses (I used to call her every day to ask her if she’d done it, but it didn’t help her and just seemed to make her feel guilty). I worry about her lack of flexibility because she’s getting older, but mostly because I know how much better *I* feel when I spend even a little bit of time stretching on a regular basis. I wanted her to see how easy it is just to do five minutes of it without going all crazy and still get something positive out of it.

Later we got on the subject of Bea Arthur dying and my mom started crying. My mom is now the same age as the characters were on The Golden Girls. She said it seems like it was just yesterday that show was on and now Dorothy and Sophia are dead. She said it made her realize how little time she might have left — what a small window of opportunity she has. My hypersexed mom even admits that now she sometimes gets sick of her boyfriend wanting to have as much sex as he does.

I don’t know if it was because of that in part or in whole, but last night my body felt powerful and I felt younger than I have in a long time. I felt supple and juicy and ripe and full of energy. I felt like my body was tall and everything was in line. My breasts felt big and ripe and heavy and swinging. I felt like an hourglass with the top and the bottom perfectly balanced. I actually felt graceful instead of unwieldy when I climbed on top of Delia. I felt potent and came fast without getting out of breath.

I was still awake later while they were asleep. I crept around the house. I made something to eat in the kitchen. I looked at the moon mostly hidden behind the clouds and a bright planet that must have been Jupiter sparkling to the east of it.

I’m like my mom in a million ways, but unlike her in a million others. Mainly I am just younger than she is. I guess it should be hard to see my mom struggling with her own life changes and not knowing where she’s going — it IS hard — but I also can’t help celebrating, first that she seems more focused on one important thing instead of a million trivial distractions from the one thing and second, celebrating myself and where I am and what I have and all that I still have to look forward to. That my mom has challenges, but she STILL has a lot of opportunity and a lot of growth and good health to enjoy and grapple with (and I have all of that to look forward to also — but MORE of it). That she is better off than her mom is and was at her age. And that I’m so so SO much better off than either of them were when they were mine. Inside and outside and in every conceivable way. And that makes my life and my body and where and how I’m living them feel like a huge evolving miracle that I have a RESPONSIBILITY to celebrate partially on their behalf, fucking and walking and dancing.

*****

Tonight and tomorrow we have webcam shows and members-only chat scheduled.

My response to Oprah’s team dulling down the Real Housewives of Orange County:

A post made by Trixie on her phone:

MP3 File

Note: I didn’t see the show and am only going on the piece I linked to. Also, it’s not that I don’t think men — particularly gay men — are capable of being brilliant stylists and all of that, the part I hate is the whole “Ladies! COVER UP, will ya? Jesus, you fucking skanks — no one wants to see that much of your old-ass bodies, okaaaaaaaaaay?” attitude. And seriously, if someone doesn’t have style that sets them apart from the people they hang out with, do you really think that personal style is something you can THRUST upon them?

You don’t need me to tell you that times are financially tough right now for a lot of people. You might be curious, though, whether or not recessions and looming depressions have an effect on our porn site sales. The answer? Yes, sales have been a little harder for us to make but overall I feel much more secure than I would in almost any other industry. The main sign we’ve seen that people’s wallets are thin is that we get more denied credit cards.

My main financial concerns right now are not about falling sales, they’re just about having finally reached our limit, unfortunately right at the time when banks and everyone else have reached theirs. I try not to feel a sense of shame or failure about my debt load regardless of how our country tells us that we little people are to blame for overextending ourselves or for being given loans and lines of credit we somehow didn’t deserve. Our only mistake was being born poor while extremely unscrupulous banking bigwigs are bailed out for fucking people anally with insanely high interest rates. Example: it cracks me up that Citibank not only gets away with raising my interest rate and leveling late charges against me for sending a payment in on time that I accidentally wrote for fifty-seven cents less than the minimum payment that month (YES I have written them letters to no avail), but taxpayers get to foot the bill to save their fucking asses.

I’m getting off track.

Point is, after filing our taxes in October (yes, totally late) and maxing ourselves out like crazy we simply need to make more sales. Really, there is no excuse for us not to be making much more money at this point except that we tend to focus more on keeping our members happy than on actually, you know, FINDING MORE MEMBERS. It would be nice if we could do it all, but at this point we need to cut back on some things and rearrange others, at least until we meet some financial goals. So here are a couple of changes we/I are making:

*REALISTIC NUMBER OF WEBCAM SHOWS EVERY OTHER WEEK.
Delia and I have been doing an insane number of shows for too many years: around twenty a month between the two of us. Most girls or couples with sites like ours who actually do live webcam shows do one or two a week, so maybe three to eight shows a month. Frankly it was sucking way too much sexual energy out of our relationship, leaving us very little free time to be spontaneous or go on shooting sprees or, you know, take a day or two off here and there.

We’re now scheduling a couple days of webcam shows a couple times a month/every other week. It still averages out to at least two shows a week this way, but that’s still less than what we have been doing and will give us more breathing room in-between to shoot videos and have recreational sex with each other.

Doing fewer camshows will also open up time to promote our sites in other ways; the truth is that the cam networks stopped being good places to get new members a long time ago. Even the girls who put on great shows and bend over backwards to be great orgasmic little entertainers do not make great sales because of those webcam shows. I will save explaining why for a different blog entry, but suffice to say right now there are more efficient ways of bringing in new sales; at a time like now we simply need to be more efficient.

*FEWER HOURS IN CHAT
I really really love getting to know our members and think an active chatroom with a readily-available hostess is a really awesome feature to have on a porn/spycam site. I’ve had many awesome conversations in chat and gotten to know people I consider friends. Unfortunately, I probably spent way too much time in spycam chat over the years when I should have been focusing more on marketing my site. Now it’s at the point where I really don’t have a choice and need to spend those hours promoting our sites (especially Delia’s because it outsells mine three to one).

I hate to say it, but I just don’t have enough members to justify scheduling so many hours in chat. I’ve tried to find ways to make it work, and I feel like the same small handful of people are coming in just so I don’t feel bad sitting in there alone. Combined with being burned out from all the camshows and being under pressure in other ways, I’m also just not as energetic an entertainer as I once was, anyway, so it’s probably not a very enticing feature anymore. I am, however, continuing to pay for our members-only chatroom (the plugin is only $12.50 a month, but still) and am popping in there every so often and scheduling chats here and there. I’ve also added a separate twitter feed on the spycam, chat and shows pages to notify people of upcoming chats and shows and spycam stuff.

I’ve made a goal for myself that once Delia has 750 members and I have 500 members, I will add 15+ hours of chat per month back into the schedule as long as we can maintain those numbers and people seem to enjoy the chats. I know that 1250 members sounds like a lot, but in the grand scheme of things it’s inexcusable that we don’t have that many and more members right now. When I see the way other porn sites have tons of members and offer so much less than we do, it really makes me mad at myself because there’s no reason we cannot be comfortable, debt-free and have the resources we need to make our sites better.

I just can’t justify doing as much as we’ve been doing and staying so deeply in debt. I’m getting too old for it and it’s taking too much of a toll on me. I need to buckle down and sell the fuck out of our sites, especially Delia’s because she has much less competition.

*LOOSEY-GOOSEY UPDATES
For about five years I was very rigid about my update schedule for members, posting something new every week, and for many years on the exact same DAY each week. I still feel like that’s the ideal way to do things (scheduled updates one or more times a week, depending on whether or not the site has anything else going for it).

Once we made our sites all-access (join one you get them all) I tried to relax a little on that and am finally feeling less anal about it. Now I am focused on our network of sites added ten or more new things each month, which isn’t two hard considering that we have DeliaCD, TastyTrixie, AmberLily, SpyOnUs and TrixiesHouseboy (which is paralyzed right now, but I digress). Still, I have been asking too much of myself and not really giving myself the opportunities to excel at what I do best and WANT to do most at any given time. When I see other sites that I think are great (and so do their members) and they don’t get all crazy freaking out on themselves for not updating like clockwork, I have to think I’m just sabotaging myself with self-criticism and essentially also disrespecting the work my colleagues do; if it’s good enough for them, why isn’t it good enough for me?

This was especially apparent to me when AmberLily joined our network; it was a sudden thing, so we didn’t plan on it by having a bunch of our own content queued up ready to go while we did the things we needed to do to help get her site up on our server and attached to us. It wasn’t that anything I did was particularly HARD, but it did take a lot of hours making phone calls, designing a tour, negotiating stuff, etc. Lots of little things that made me happy to do, but meant I didn’t have time to do other things. I *should* have said, “hey members! This month I won’t be posting new updates but AmberLily’s joining us and you will have her entire site to explore to make up for it!” But I didn’t do that.

From now on, I NEED to do that; realize I can’t do it all, and be proud of what I *do* do, and satisfied that it is enough instead of thinking all will be lost unless I run myself into the ground. The opposite is proving to be true
(duh): all will be lost if I continue to run myself ragged. I’m totally out of gas, which is sad especially when there are a number of women who would like to join our network of sites and I simply don’t have time and energy to invest in working with them right now.

There are tons of things I’ve neglected to do that I need to get taken care of, like redesigning the free areas and blogs for pretty much all of our paysites. How many years have I had the same confusing design on this blog and my site that is now totally outdated with pages of broken things, old pictures, etc.? It’s just unacceptable. And no, I am not listening to anybody who gives me shit about all my other little “projects” and how if I didn’t waste time with them I could finish all these neglected necessaries. Bullshit. If I didn’t allow myself to go off on tangents, then half of the reward of working for myself would be totally fucking DELETED. Whatever makes me want to do those things is the same thing that makes me good at the things people PAY for.

Oh, and speaking of what people pay for, I still really miss doing phone sex, private shows and the potential to do other one-on-one stuff; another set of things I’d like to mix back into my life soon or when we meet some of those money goals.

Basically I am *considering* posting fewer updates to the TastyTrixie members area for a few months or until I feel/look healthier. Lately I’ve been doubling up on them/posting “late”, mostly because I haven’t been happy with a lot of my content and sit on updates until I have something “better” to go with them. In fact, that’s what I’ve been doing with a set of pictures that I edited this week and really kind of hate.

Mostly I guess I need to stop making promises and just focus on making content. And even more than that, SALES. Note: it’s not that our content isn’t good enough to make sales or that we don’t have enough of it or that our members-only areas are lacking; that isn’t the problem at all. It’s simply that the webmasters promoting most porn sites don’t know how to promote us, or have never heard of us because we have no advertising budget, or it’s just not worth it to them to promote us because we can’t pay them as much as these big sites do (yet another subject for another blog entry) or we don’t give them enough free content in the format they like with a lot of bells and whistles and things to make it super-easy (I totally understand why this puts us at a disadvantage).

I know this is a really long post and maybe a total bore to most people, but I feel like I needed to communicate this stuff in writing and by posting it, make a commitment to it myself. Long story short, we need to focus on meeting some attainable, yet very immediately necessary sales goals. I have to close two of my credit card accounts before they raise the interest rates to some even-more god-awful amount; this shit is getting down to the wire and we simply have to stop living on the edge.

*****

One of my favorite books about “unschooling” tells readers that when you allow a young person to escape the lock-step of traditional schools, the person usually needs three months or more to get it out of their system and have their natural curiosity well up enough to be motivated to take advantage of other learning opportunities. Note: there are many things I love about traditional schools AND alternative approaches to education; I’m not knocking schools, just using this as an example. As I’ve alluded to in recent posts, making great life-changing decisions doesn’t always yield immediate relief and results and instant accomplishments; I’ve been pretty exhausted and overwhelmed on a bunch of different levels so I really don’t expect everything to magically be PERFECT and I hope my members are patient and understand that too, though I totally understand if people feel like canceling and perhaps coming back later when I have more to offer.

I’m really looking forward to getting back to making our spycams more entertaining, focusing on Delia’s and my relationship to each other, and feeling better about my body. Today’s the seventh day in a row I’ve exercised and I know by the time the new year rolls around I’m going to feel a million percent better (if the holidays don’t kill me .

Let me toss some tgirl-on-tgirl porn at you before I get all personal and diary-ish(click for free pics & sample vid):

This is my favorite photo in the samples and in general that whole shoot was really hot to watch, plus I love that the resulting porn is both explicit and very sensual. I need to work on my skills as a photographer shooting people other than Delia, though. With Mandy and AmberLily I didn’t do a good job of stopping them and asking them to hold “poses”, so as a result there were lots of blurry and awkward shots — good ones, too, but could’ve been better. We’re still getting used to our new camera which is FAST, but since we don’t shoot with a flash or a lot of light we still have to MODEL semi-slowly even though it’s tempting when you hear the shutter flying along to dance fluidly along.

*****

Life is good — there are lots of things going on with me which are mostly connected with making a concerted effort to have LESS things going on and focus on a few high priority things. Right now my personal priorities are:

-exercising consistently (today will be five days in a row)
-eating less sugar and starches
-going to twelve step meetings & getting healthier emotionally and spiritually
-cutting back on a few things to make room for a) making money more efficiently and b) doing more things that I love

The past couple of years my body has become more and more of a challenge for me to feel good about, mostly because I never got into the habit of taking care of it except for getting enough sleep. With the added pressure (and wake-up-calls) of trying to get pregnant but not being able to, it’s gotten to the point where I feel really shitty with a litany of symptoms and complaints and hypochondriac fantasies. Long story short, I need to put myself and my health first before everything (and everybody) else.

A lot of times I sacrifice my own needs and desires to work which really is stupid because I can’t *do* this kind of work very well when my body feels like shit and I don’t provide myself with pleasure on all levels. I can barely stand to look at myself which is, ummm, pretty counterproductive for shooting porn (and editing/posting/selling it myself where I have to look at myself and love myself to do a good job). It’s not that everything looks shitty, but seriously — it’s not only difficult for me to bend over to tie my shoes these days, it’s PHYSICALLY PAINFUL. My guts fucking hurt.

Before people rush to simple judgments like, “duh! That’s what happens when you sit on your ass all day”, etc. let me offer a little perspective and extend some leniency to myself; there are definitely some hormonal problems contributing to my issues (all of the thyroid / infertility / depression / migraine / too-much-testosterone stuff and more all connected in a which-came-first/chicken-egg circle of insanity) plus the stuff we’ve been going through with alcoholism that no one has really been aware of or how it’s been effecting us; *I* haven’t even been aware of how much of my energy was going into trying to cope with it.

One of the unexpected bonuses of Delia getting sober is that I got to enter recovery too. Only I totally didn’t anticipate how hard it would be or that I would totally fucking freak out (which I did, surprisingly, really fall-the-fuck apart the first month and couldn’t really understand why when I thought I would just feel relieved and everything would be bliss and perfection). Now that Delia is sober and I’m not constantly thinking about her and trying to control her drinking, I’m left with the way bigger, scarier challenge and problem of mySELF and my own fucked-upedness. Patterns of behavior and sickness that I had before Delia and I ever even met.

I feel really optimistic, excited and fortunate right now, but I also feel like I need a lot of space and time and patience to get healthy in more ways than one. It takes more than a week or a month or three months or a year to feel relief, to figure out what to change (and what IS changing whether you want it to or not), to adapt, and to grow into new ways of doing things. I’m kind of tired and have a lot of stuff to process and let go of so just mending my body, our relationship and going to meetings right now is enough to keep me very occupied. I’d say that I’m sorry I don’t have more left over to spread around and to keep doing all the things I was trying to do, but I’m not sorry. I’m happy to be focused on what’s important.

Note: I’m leaving comments open for people who want to remark on the Delia & Mandy shoot or those who have their own personal sharing/relating on the subjects I talked about, but I usually do not feel helped by comments containing unsolicited advice, analysis of me/us/our lives and/or criticism even when I know they’re well-intentioned.

On my simple softcore porn photo shoot to-do list I’ve resolved to wear more REAL clothes. You know, stuff that can be (and is) worn in public: no stripper shoes, no Leg Avenue costumes, no fishnets.

I just posted this gallery last night with me wearing a bunch of things I love: my all-time favorite hoody with embroidered black flowers (I’ve been wearing that thing for about eight years), a t-shirt my sister loaned me the last time we went to the spa, a knit cap that actually belongs to Delia’s ex-wife but has lived with us for years. I wore the pants in another shoot, but I love them so much and they’re even softer now than they were then. They totally represent love to me because my sister bought them for me when she was out shopping. Buying pants for people is hard! I would never risk buying anyone a pair of pants, not even my sister, but she clothed me in soft, cozy legwear.

This picture here makes me want to do a Rosie the Riveter style shoot (won’t be any time soon though — we don’t have the time or money to pull off something that good/important to me right now, not to mention I need bigger muscles):

Anyway, I really love this set of pictures — I think they’re adorable and I look palpably fleshy and real.

*****

If you’re curious how my insemination went, it wasn’t so bad.

This week I’ve got a lot of chat sessions scheduled for any members who want a chance to talk to me. I’m actually in our chatroom right now . . . alone. Which is why I was able to make this post! Think how easy it could be for you to have an awkward one-on-one conversation with me by becoming a member. You could be moving your moist hands back and forth from your genitals to the keyboard while you talk to me about music and toggle back and forth between the chatroom, my desk cam, and these photos without being able to explain the appeal because I totally don’t even look sexy, at least not in a mainstream media or porno way.