dianaschnuth

Is it wrong for me to want my male friends to find me attractive, even though I’m married?

I mean, it’s not like I would ever actually *do* anything with any of them, even given the chance. Hell, I can’t even fantasize about doing the nasty with anyone but Aaron. Still, though, a part of me would like to know that I’ve still “got it”—not like I ever had very much of “it” in the first place. At the height of my boyfriend / make-out-buddy phase in college, I met every single one of the guys I dated on IRC. On internet relay chat, cuteness or hotness isn’t so much a factor as desperation and a sense of humor, I think.

I guess I’m just realizing that I’m getting to the age where, if I don’t make my body look all svelte and sexy NOW, I’m not going to get the chance in the future. I get a few more prime years, then if I’m not careful, it can be all downhill. I may never have another chance to make anyone think I’m sexy. (Apart from Aaron, that is. But he thought I was sexy when I was 250 pounds, supposedly. Not sure how that works.)

Anyway, I guess I’m just feeling weird about wanting to be all sexy-looking to other guys. Someday. Is that wrong, or just human?

Have you ever sat at the computer and reloaded LiveJournal and checked out all your friends’ and acquaintances’ blogs and looked at Flickr hoping for new pics from your contacts… just because you wanted human interaction?

Ironic, isn’t it? Or maybe just stupid.

I wish more of my friends had blogs. I’m rarely into chatting online anymore, but I still want to feel connected. I’m not always keen on spending my evenings alone, but I’m not always interested in talking on the phone or doing Instant Messenger. You know?

Evenings like these would be good for walking around BG, stopping into Grounds For Thought, maybe reading a book or writing in a journal about something seemingly profound, maybe doing some BG low-light street photography. The idea kind of loses its charm when it requires a 20-minute drive, though, instead of walking out your door and three minutes down the street.

Enough of this. I’ve gotta go do some dishes, put together my lunch, and go to bed. *sigh*

I’m really not this depressed. I don’t think. I think I’m just tired and lonely right now. And, for once in my life, I feel like a fit person trapped in a fat person’s body. But that’s another blog entry entirely.

I should really be getting my lunch ready for tomorrow, and getting to bed. Instead, I’m going to crank out this quick post. I may come back to this idea later on.

When I was younger, and would go away from home for a while — say, on a Girl Scout camping trip, or a slumber party, or whatnot — Mom would always say to me, “Just remember who you are and where you come from.”

I always assumed she meant to conduct myself as an upstanding Mormon girl, and that’s how I took it at the time. However, I found out later in life that Memaw used to say the same thing to Mom when she was younger, and that made the meaning even deeper for me. Especially when I got to be older and grew away from the church.

So, who am I? And where did I come from?

(Besides the obvious answer that I’m Diana and I came from my Mommy’s belly.)

I think that might be why I’m so into genealogy lately. To find out where I come from. I come from a long line of poor farmers, from what I can tell. Even Memaw farmed as a youngster, migrating with her family to follow the crops. Memaw’s mother, Granny, farmed until the end; she had the most fantastic leathery skin from being out in the Florida sun all her life.

The “who I am” part is something that seems to change regularly. Wife, daughter, friend, Sky Bank employee, amateur genealogist, web designer, drum corps enthusiast, photography hobbyist. I’m not sure how I identify myself anymore. It’s like I read in one of my Star Trek books (yes, I get my philosophy from lofty sources): The purpose of the game of life is to figure out what piece you are.

Maybe I’m too tired to be contemplating such things. But it’s interesting food for thought.

Remember who you are, and where you come from.

Victoria’s Secret – Very Sexy

So, I got some VS spam just now. I ordered from them once or twice, so I let myself keep getting their “offers” in the hopes of actually getting a hot deal one of these days.

Anyway, the model they used for their “push-up without padding” demi bra just revolted me (see girl in green lacy brazier, above link). I mean, I’m not a guy, neither am I a lesbian, so I guess I really don’t know what “sexy” is all about when it comes to women. But I can’t imagine that seeing someone’s ribs stand out in stark relief can possibly be erotic.

I can see your RIBS. I can see your pelvis.

OMFG. Go eat something.

Oh, and your push-up bra without padding? Yeah, it makes your skinny-ass A-cups look almost normal. Way to go.