Thursday, February 11, 2010

Slut.



Slut?
Such a strong word for such a less than innocent person.
But since we're on the subject, what is the definition of slut?


1. A person, especially a woman, considered sexually promiscuous.
2. A woman prostitute.

Now, how would you define promiscuous?

1. Characterized by having sexual relations with a number of partners on a casual basis.

Right, now how many is too many?
1. After researching it seems that most people who starting having sex around the age of 16 until the point at which they are married have had anywhere from 4-50 sexual partners.
2. Well what If you've been in 15 committed relationships in your dating lifetime and have had sex with all of them, are you a slut?

Now that I've thrown out some definitions and a little bit of research, I'm going to delve into my sexual history, that of which you find so "slutty".

I lost my virginity at 16, like most teenage girls. Yes, like most I was persuaded by an un-deserving older guy. That relationship lasted 7 months, substantial enough to have sex without being "easy". After the termination of that relationship I kissed maybe a total of 3 other boys, one of which is my current boyfriend. I've been in a relationship with this man for 2 year, definitely enough time to have sex without being a "hussy". And let's face it, I'll probably spend the rest of my life with the wonderful man, and be his DEVOTED wife until the day I die.

Okay, so let's recap: Two, count 'em, two sexual partners in four years. No other sexual favors have been given to any other men besides these two. Yes, I did cheat on the first boyfriend, by kissing another guy, but in my defense he was having sex with several girls behind my back. Retaliation does not equal prostitution(see definition of slut).

Now, if you are saving yourself for marriage, more power to you, I applaud you. But do not judge me for not having the same beliefs, diversity is key to avoiding the mundane.

That is my rant. I am not a slut, nor will I ever be one. Do not let me find out you've said something about my sexual life again. Keep it to yourself.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Love me or leave me.


My father.

The best man I know, hands down.

This past year has been the hardest and quite frankly the worst year of my life. Of his life. The man I had never seen cry, not once, in 18 years, I held crying for a week straight. And several times after that. Through the deceit and heart break, we have grown closer together. I guess some relationships must be broken to make others stronger. I wish, hope, and pray with all of my heart that my family will pull through this and ALL of us become closer, not just he and I. But it's hard when you wake up every day fearing that you are going to get another text message or phone call saying it's over...again.


I don't know how I would have survived this year without the love and support given by a few incredible people.


Shelby Wyche...oops Norton (still weird to me!) Your beautiful and sacred words helped more than I knew. Though they didn't hit hard at first, I know they sunk in without me realizing it. You never allowed me to hate, and in those times reminded me to love.


Sherman Tyler Haynes what in the world would I have done without you? You sat there with me and watched my heart break and still stayed by me. You are my rock. My constant. Through all of the uncertainty and unsteadiness, you kept me whole. Thank you, baby. You truly are my sunshine.

Just to name a couple. This challenge is not over, but I know all the special people in my life will be by me to help me through it.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Why?


Why can't we just all love ourselves? Why can we not look in the mirror and except who we are and how our bodies are shaped. Why can we not get passed the less than perfect pieces and focus on the unique and beautiful areas? A nose wrinkle, a freckle on the palm of your hand, the way the folds of skin on the inside of you elbow sparkle when you're a little sweaty. In the process of hating ourselves we make everyone around just as uncomfortable as we feel. What are we accomplishing? What are we expecting? What am I expecting?