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Archive for the ‘trying to conceive’ Category

Tomorrow our friends Julia the Naughty Teacher and her photographer are coming over for a visit, which we’re really looking forward to.

We won’t be shooting, just hanging out and chatting; we really need the social time and they’re willing to drive all the way out to our peninsula location so the least we can do is try to get our house to look less like a pig sty. It’s getting late and we still have a lot of cleaning to do, so I decided to post a “no frills” version of The List (of all the people I’ve fucked) tonight along with a guest gallery from Julia, and will publish an additional, more detailed version of The List whenever I’m able to implant the first layer of augmentation in the form of details, links, and video commentary.

While Julia and her photographer are here some of our cams will be down so they will be comfortable. Then we are going to be gone on Thursday so Delia can make one last deposit at the sperm bank before she goes on hormones (we’re taking a break from trying to conceive) and we’ll also deliver a late birthday present to my sister. We’ll also be gone part of Friday for Delia’s laser appointment. Next week I’ll be hosting hyperchat, though, so members will have many opportunities to hang out with me in chat.

VOYEURS: sorry about the PMS – I know it’s not very relaxing to spy on someone screaming and swearing and scowling and barely managing to not throw, kick and break things, but that’s life. I tried to treat it with exercise and got out of the house to blow off some steam; it helped a lot and I enjoyed it, but hormones are stubborn fuckers and I have to let loose before the next three days of interacting with others and/or being away from home where I *have* to control myself.

We had a great visit with Delia’s family. My sister and brother-in-law loaned us Mr. Squishypants (their two year-old son/our nephew) which makes socializing so much easier; he’s beautiful, charming and a joy to be around. We had dinner together then went to a big park in Seattle and played until it got dark and we could see the full moon between the trees.

At that point Delia’s uncle, a slightly grizzled, mildly-boozy-from-dinner Iowa farmer, shook Mr. Squish’s hand and solemnly looked him in they eye, saying he’s a wonderful boy and hoped he’d see him again soon. Mr. Squishypants returned a firm chubby-fingered grip and nodded his own head in slow, somber agreement, his big blue eyes level as he said, “yeah”. He says “yeah” a lot these days. He used to say “dick” or “dickle” when he meant “yes”, but recently he replaced “dickle” with the standard “yeah”. Anyway, it was moving seeing an expression on his little face that conveyed something like, “we served in the war together, buddy, and saw things we’ll never speak of when we get home to our families, but I will never forget you. I’m glad I saved your life once, and you mine.” It was like unexpectedly witnessing a secret handshake between two people you never would have guessed had met somewhere before or had a common bond.

It just fucking amazes me how kids learn to communicate, not just with words, but by mimicking our nonverbal language. Sometimes by removing the knowledge of the meaning behind the language a kind of universal human truth is spoken. Mr. Squishypants and Delia’s uncle shared a solemn moment full of mutual respect and human connection that transcended what was spoken and understood. They made a connection and I witnessed it (because I was holding him in my arms at the time so they were face to face), the way his angelic little face dipped as he bowed his head slightly to say, “yeah” and he blinked his eyes for only a moment, the rest of the time maintaining eye contact — it was so full of intuitive wisdom. On one hand it makes you think about how little substance there is to our interactions, that it’s all a meaningless charade we teach each other and find compelling when someone does a good job of acting it out. On the other hand it makes you wonder how much meaning is created in a big and powerful way by the emotional response we have to witnessing and performing these interactions. Like when we smile out of obligation even when we don’t mean it and somehow we feel better inside for doing it. Yes, we’re machines whose behavior can be shaped, but why dwell on our mundane construction when our experiences FEEL so profound? I can intellectualize it and scoff at it as simpleminded copycatting barely more advanced than tricks you can teach a dog, but watching my nephew shake hands or raise a glass to his fellows and say, “cheers!” or high five people or DANCE is like cuddling with divinity, whether such a thing exists or not.

And have you ever noticed how much two year old bodies resemble monkeys? The way their legs and toes move. The way they bend at the waist. How can you avoid trusting, even if just for a moment, in both evolution and God when you see that? A little monkey with my grandma’s face, my sister’s face, his dad’s face, even my face. Layers of the gift of immortality, or at least its illusion.

*****

If I’m not pregnant, my period will probably start today. Also, here’s another post over on Fertile(?)Trixie if you’d like to read about my paranoia regarding orgasms and implantation.

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.

We’d *planned* to take a real day off tomorrow, the 4th of July, but instead of that we have to take a buttcrack of dawn trip to Seattle to try to inseminate me. I hate to be an asshole, but I feel like crying because the LAST FUCKING THING I WANT TO DO on the Fourth of July is be on the road. IN THE MORNING. The tension I feel now seems really counterproductive to trying to conceive so I guess I need to try to do some deep breathing or something. I would feel better if I could take a run right now and blow off some steam, but I hurt my foot the other day walking in heels outside for a shoot. Well, actually I was just trying on outfits for a shoot and had to run outside to see what our dog was hell bent on wolfing down: a grenade sized piece of dehydrated poop or something, and my ankles buckled three times in the grass as I ran in my mules to discover that. Since then it’s hurt to put weight on my left foot.

Fucking hell.

This is NOT the blog entry I would like to post for you, it’s just what it is. If I do not get pregnant this time, somebody just take me out and shoot me.

Are you going to tell me to go read _The Secret_ now?

Anyway, I had to cancel my shows on Saturday the 5th because we *might* wind up stuck in Seattle and I can’t put on a good show anyway after this procedure. So maybe we’ll make Saturday our day off. Sort of like normal people have weekends and holidays, only ours will be just one day. Of course, normal people don’t get to schedule massages on the fly the way I did today just after lunchtime, so it’s not like I’m saying I want to be normal or anything. Just bitching, that’s all.

We finally got a new camera! It just arrived on Tuesday so today we shot our first nudey set with it. Here’s one of my favorite, happy NON-nudey shots from that:

I’m extremely happy with it and hope to write a whole blog entry singing its praises and showing it off. Here’s one I took last night:

*****

I should say that I can’t BELIEVE it’s been over a week since I made a blog entry here, but I actually CAN believe it. I feel it in my marrow, this neglect. I could whine and cry about how disgusting I’ve felt and how tired I’ve been but that kind of melodramatic pathos won’t do anybody any good. Instead I’ll just say that I’ve revamped my routine goals and schedules in such a way that I will be more productive and efficient.

Basically instead of cycling through a long weekly routine to-do list, I’ve shortened my daily and weekly tasks and lengthened the monthly to-do list so I can group repetitive tasks in a lump to get weeks of them done ahead of time rather than trying to switch gears and never getting ahead by focusing on weekly cycles which barely give me a chance to half-assedly finish all my “chores” before the next week starts and I’m back on exactly the same treadmill; I’ve been depressed and overwhelmed feeling like I’m spinning my wheels so I really want to set work up so that I can get on a roll and STAY there for two to six days on one type of work at a time. Part of this switch began with me scheduling one hyperchat week per month and now I’m following through on that by making ALL of my work into lumpier monthly events.

Speaking of lumpy monthly events, I did get my period/am not pregnant. I just finished up with that and my second Clomid prescription so in a week or so I should ovulate again. This time we are 90% sure we’re going to the doctor for an intrauterine insemination instead of the homebrew fucking. Maybe bypassing my cervix will get this party started, but it will probably leave our spycam voyeurs high and dry since Delia will be storing up her spooge for the fertility doctors who will spin it and wash it and prep it for my uterus (a process that causes some sperm to be lost). Sounds pretty counterproductive, doesn’t it? Perhaps, but many sperm are lost in the vag, too, never even getting past the cervix especially if one has “hostile cervical mucous” which really sounds like a very Trixie-esque condition. I haven’t had my cervical mucous tested or anything, but it would not surprise me one bit if all of this disappointment could be blamed on my bitterly acidic cunt juices. Oh, we’ve tried tricks designed to improve the quality of my mucous and used products intended to bathe sperm in slippery stuff they can easily swim through, but to no avail so far. We really want to get this motherfucking show on the road. FOR REALS.

*****

Tonight I’m going to try to get these new photos posted for members and maybe get some more exercise, too. My body is like a weird stranger to me these days, all thick and dimpled in both good and bad ways. I did some exercise along with the tv the other day called “slow-robics” and couldn’t even make it the entire hour even with commercial breaks. After the midway mark I had to take a big ass break then come back to it for another ten minutes. There were tons of speed-skater-imitating squatting exercises that turned my thighs and buttocks into what felt like big soft balloons of swollen jello. I have only just regained the ability to lower my ass onto the toilet without screeching in agony and clutching at the wall for support on the way down.

I guess this is what they call “thirty-five”. On an intellectual level I know precisely how I’ve gotten to this point and exactly what I need to do to control at least some of the damage, but on another level I just can’t believe this is my body. More to the point, I can’t believe how different I am from when I was young. Again, on a rational level it all makes total sense and OF COURSE I’m different from my younger self, but it’s not just my body that’s different; I have changed in many ways and am maybe needing some time to adjust to my new identity and get to know who I am.

All this dim-witted introspection might sound silly, like it should all be easy and come naturally and make total sense, but you make a lot of plans in life and develop a lot of habits based on your perception of your identity. When your values, needs, and abilities shift then you need to change your habits and plans. Being here in my mid-thirties is almost like losing a limb and needing to learn how to do everything with three of them instead of four. My balance is off and I feel justified in simplifying things. It’s not that I feel handicapped by my age (except slightly in the body/porn department); on the contrary, I know I’m more skilled and capable. On the other hand, I’m less deluded and more aware of (and complacent about) my weaknesses. I’m more sure of what I want and what I do NOT want which is great, but it does make one’s options seem more limited.

I feel like I blew my ambition wad in my twenties, working really long and hard hours for other people. Proving myself to other people, making other people money, doing what other people wanted and tiring my damned self out. Now? I feel like I don’t have much of that drive left, in part because I’m happy and content, but also because I’m just motherfucking tired of it. I don’t like having to be resourceful to do my job; I want to have all of the tools I need to do my job well and it just exhausts me, mentally, physically and emotionally, having to pull everything together on a shoestring budget to attain mediocrity. It feels like a big waste of my time and I really REALLY want to spend more time with my family and I REALLY want to make better porn. A lot more time with my family AND a lot more porn. I think these are very normal, typical thirty-something feelings and part of me enjoys being in this stage of life. It’s also embarrassing, though, because I feel like I should be able to muster up the energy to rectify this lack of resources. Sometimes it’s empowering to know you control your own destiny and can CHANGE your situation just by hard work. Other times? It’s just really depressing and tiring when you feel like you’ve DONE your hard work and you’re way past due for the payoff. Everything feels like it hinges on how well I can mind-fuck myself into believing that I can, at the very least, double our income which is basically what we need to do and FAST to make continuing what we do justifiable. Of course, getting normal jobs is even less justifiable than continuing what we do full time simply because the only hope we have of paying off our debts is to win the lottery or work hard on our sites (since there’s no limit to what we can make on them, unlike real jobs that have, ummm, limitations on wages and salaries and such, and are totally degrading and exhausting and enslaving compared to working for yourself on the internet). We don’t play the lottery and I have no desire to quit what I do, so this is what we’re going to keep on doing. Of course, my mind is always spinning with ways I can augment the porn site stuff and switch up our plans and find other revenue streams (aka pile even more jobs on myself) but the basic place I’m at is feeling like I’ve run a really long race and have no idea how far I am from the finish line. My body is falling apart and I’m beyond ready to slow my pace WAY down to falling flat on m
y face, preferably straight into a bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy. But I just keep telling myself to keep trudging along even though I suspect when I round the bend there’s just going to be another long-ass stretch of empty road.

*****

It’s almost 9 pm now so I’m not going to be able to get both exercise AND an update done. I’m feeling floppy after writing this and want to go to bed, but I’ll try to get back in here to edit the photos because I know it will be fun and make me feel better. Then again, so would eating donuts and watching television.

Just in case you didn’t believe that my weight gain is a real thing with an impact on my health, here’s a photo of my face last month telling the tale:

I do not even look like myself in that picture. I actually think I look cute in it, but like someone else. Oh yeah, I *recognize* that it *is* me, but she’s like an alter ego of some sort, like I was transformed overnight (which of course is ridiculous since it’s taken me awhile to get there) or am experiencing a Freaky Friday scenario where I’m magically switching places with my chubby twin sister.

That is the biggest and SOFTEST I’ve been in my entire life and the second time I’ve weighed that much (around 130, 132 pounds). I am back to 125 and those five pounds make an enormous difference in the number of chins I have (and if I lost only ten pounds now I’d be at a very good place). At the time of that photo my period was severely overdue, not because of pregnancy but because I didn’t ovulate which I’m certain is because of how overweight I was. I know 130 pounds doesn’t sound enormous considering how much fatter people are capable of getting, but for my frame that is just really WAY too much. With my hormones totally out of wack and the stress and pressure of our plans to get pregnant being delayed and feeling out of control, all I wanted to do was eat. Carbs. Lots of them. It’s a vicious circle.

Once my period finally started last month I stopped having my usual two teaspoons of sugar in my morning tea, stopped eating candy (except some dark chocolate here and there), and have been exercising more. I feel better, but still have a major energy dive in the afternoon/early evening and have been napping almost every day; it’s only 30-60 minutes, but I feel enormously guilty about it for some reason. I don’t know if I’m just stressed out, tired from exercising, fat and lazy, or have some internal voice ordering me to focus on a very few things. It is (and has been for the past nine months or so) very difficult for me to focus on anything besides our conception attempts. It sounds stupid, since if I were really focusing I should have been exercising more and eating better, but my main priority has been to try not to stress out my mind or body. All I have wanted to do was try to be patient, calm, and relaxed and honestly? Accomplishing that takes all of my energy, I think. And lots of food and lazing around.

It should come as no surprise that I have not felt great about shooting photos and videos of myself. Part of it is self-consciousness about my weight, but another part might also be me feeling a need to keep some of me to myself. Trying and failing to get pregnant over and over makes me feel like there’s a demand being placed on my body that I keep failing to meet in spite of the many different adjustments and approaches and changes we make to get it done. I already feel like I’m asking enough of my body, forcing it to get fucked on a schedule, to tell me what it’s thinking, to subject it to tests, to tell it to work harder and be “healthy”. Other than that, I really just want to put it in a cocoon of blankets and comfortable clothes and to try to let my mind escape. I want to protect myself, my mind AND body, from more opportunities for failure.

There are a few other factors contributing to my state of mind, including missing my girly birth control hormones, my ADD and hypersensitivity to stimuli (I am fucking exhausted from processing so much information and trying to tune things out; I have not been able to concentrate at all on blogging or anything), stress/guilt over an argument I had with my mom in March, MISSING my nephew and longing to live closer to my family, and the way all these things work together to make me feel, I suppose, a little depressed. I’m not particularly worried about it in the short term, but if I allow myself to fret about how long this trying-to-conceive business could go on I do get anxious and concerned about, ummm, my mental and emotional health.

I guess my main priorities right now are making my body healthier and focusing on transcending daily worries to get to a place where it’s all good, whether it’s in a nap, brushing the dog, dancing, reading a book, writing for myself, daydreaming about things that make me happy, visualizing the positive possibilities, drowning myself in mindless entertainment, researching stuff I want to know for future and current projects, listening to cheesy new age music, smelling good things and enjoying sensual (but nonsexual) pleasures like massage, or processing these thoughts and reflecting on my needs the way I am right now by writing this. I feel better having done it.

But I still don’t feel like shooting porn. Not today, anyway. And of course this makes me feel slack and guilty which only deepens my mini-depression. I would like to be more productive and intellectually have a hard time allowing myself a break; part of me says if I were a better person I would just WORK HARDER. Still, I know that once we do get pregnant, if we do, there will be a whole new set of demands on my body so maybe it’s okay for me to just SURVIVE right now.

NOTE TO MEMBERS: I’m not saying that I’m ceasing shooting, just that updates are coming a little slower than I’d like and don’t have as much tastiness as usual. I’m sure we will shoot soon, especially since I’m no longer quite as pudgy as in the above photo. Oh, and another uninspiring factor in all of this is that we really need a better camera; I bought this one in 2002 and it’s really not up to par anymore and has some problems. Not so fun to shoot with and the results are less than stellar.