Pamperpalooza 2009

What is Pamperpalooza 2009?
It begins Wednesday with an evening of bathing, grooming, eating, and mutual mani- pedi- with Kaylee.
Then I do a little self care and go kick a certain trainer in the shins Thursday morning (Because I will be done limping by then and he definitely deserves it.)
A final baseline grooming and Kaylee and I are off to Duque for professional pampering.
This includes my very first facial ever, and make-up and up-do's for both of us. (I've never been here before either. You can be sure I'll tell you how it went.)
Then we put on pretty dresses and prance around our respective homes informing the boys it's time to tell us how pretty we look. (I've found it's important to be clear about your goals when prancing. If you don't want to hear "Are you really wearing that?!" then it's better to just say "Tell me I look pretty.").
There will probably be some snap-shots of Pamperpalooza (and the end result) that I'll happily post after the night is through.

All this pampering does not come cheap, but we're worth it. Between the white dresses and the disproportionate amount of pre-event fussing, it's almost like Kaylee and I are getting to do all the fun parts of a wedding without having to deal with the drudge-work, cranky relatives, and unreasonable commitment at the end.

Personal trainer appointment: FAIL

One should not leave an "orientation" appointment in tears (they were emotional tears as opposed to pain tears though those aren't good either).

I felt embarrassed, frustrated, and weak. I let my brain do the check-out thing I haven't let it do in a couple years. Oddly, the more checked-out I was the more positive feedback I got from the trainer about my form. If I could learn to use that willfully in a meditative state rather than reflexively in a survival state I might have something.

I'm going to go hide and pretend it didn't happen for a while.

I posted this note on a couple other networking sites today, and got some immediately protective reactions from my friends. Along with encouragement to keep trying and find another trainer.

The fail was mutual.

The trainer is still in school for this stuff and walked into our session scared shitless of fucking up my back (quite possibly because I handed him my latest x-rays--there's something about the image of 23 screws sticking into my spine that seems to get people's attention).

I walked in wanting some upper body and core exercises. He announced we were going to work on my legs. I failed to say, "No, we're going to work on what I want to work on because it's my time and I've been living in this body for the last 32 years."

He then failed to get information from me about what I've already been doing (or even that I've been doing it for the last 4 months in his gym). He made several wrong assumptions underestimating me in some areas and way over estimating in others.

I have a pretty thin shell and lots of hot buttons around athletics and physical fitness. I've toughened up significantly in the last year or so, but something hit me in just the right way to start the water works during the session. Really there wasn't much left for me to do besides drop into survival mode check-out for the duration. If you have any idea what it's like to relive memories of your self crying in middle school gym class you'd understand. There are some injuries we just don't forget.

Will I go back to the gym tomorrow? Yes
Will I work with a trainer again? Probably $omeday

In the mean time Russell has agreed to help me brainstorm a few exercises to add in to my routine to help keep me challenged and moving forward. I'm really fortunate to have a mindful, self-educated, gym-rat for a boyfriend *grins*

Mixed Bag

In this episode of Mixed Bag: summary of the first massage since surgery, SEAF hair idea pictures, and video of the act Kaylee and I surely would have mastered had we found a third to join us.

First Massage Since Surgery:
I went back to the massage therapist who got me limbered up before surgery. It was just simpler to work with someone I'd already broken in. (During the last massage he gave me, I was wearing Max's collar.)
This was more of an information gathering session than actual massage therapy, though to describe it, sounds more like a scene with Max in many ways. My therapist poked, prodded, twisted, bent and occasionally massaged just about every joint and major muscle group from my neck down. He was duly impressed by the flexibility I've maintained in my hips and shoulders, and more than a little stunned at the reality of fusing T-4 to L-3 without major post-surgical complications.
For the most part we both made it through the appointment unscathed and better informed about my body's reactions to stimulus.
I think we'll actually get some solid work done on my neck and shoulders next week.

SEAF Hair:
Courtesy of weddingchannel.com, here are the current candidates for SEAF Hair. Feedback is welcomed, though I make no promises to actually heed any of it.

Somewhere in my head, straightened sleek hair means grown-up and sophisticated. I don't do that very much in my day to day life.


This one is nice with all the carefully negotiated curls and still a smooth look, if a little softer than the one above.


I think this one has some appeal to me simply because it's so similar to my hair color and texture to start with. Also... Sexy Redhead Back!


I don't intend to stick flowers in my hair, but the complexity of hair sections appeals.


Please try to ignore the BAD BAD BAD make-up in this one. I like the idea of letting some of my hair loose in the back, but not enough to cover my scar. When I can't get past the make-up, this one just looks like a bad prom memory.



Now, the video: My mom (who reads this blog incidentally) sent this to me today. If only Kaylee and I had seen this before my surgery, I'm sure we could have recreated it on our own (okay, maybe not).

The artistry, the classic 40's harmony, the costumes, the... no really keep watching! (1:15 at least)

Why do we do it?

As is often the case, shortly after leaving the lecture hall post panel discussion I thought of several things I wanted to add/say differently.

Someone asked the ever popular "What do bottoms get out of this?" question today. Someone else on the panel had already touched on the gift of being forced into letting someone else take care of you. I tried to address that same idea from a different angle by talking about the joy in being treasured/prized. It was an alright answer, but not really the core of what I get out of bottoming most of the time.

The biggest release I get out of bottoming is permission to let go of my self-control. I'm not just talking about letting someone else be in charge and worry about the details (though that is nice), I mean really knowing that I'm in a safe place where my only responsibility is to let go.

I admit, I'm a responsibility junkie and I have a fucking death-grip on self-control. I like to think that I manage these character traits alright through a fair amount of self-awareness. But really, that's just another layer of self-control. If' I'm going to really start peeling back the layers of control, I'd like to know there's a safe container to catch all those pieces of me that I believe will go flying away once I stop holding on.

Sometimes that container comes in the form of having someone "force" me into things. If my partner can demonstrate enough control of the situation to force things, then my mind feels safer letting go for a minute. Those are hot, edge-pushing scenes like Russell and I did so often when we first started dating. They include a lot of back and forth pushing and trying to puzzle around or out of the situation along the way to the release of control.

Other times though it's not about force. The container comes from boundaries and goals built over a longer period of connection through intimacy and vulnerability. It is about pleasing my partner by being as transparent and raw as possible in our interactions. It is about knowing that he will accept whatever comes of those interactions as a gift and trusting that he will help me put myself back together again before we part.

Public Engagements

I just got home from speaking at a local university psychology class about being a kinky poly pervert (wearing my new favorite Pepper Potts suit just for fun). The class had good questions. A couple of people even dropped by afterward to ask for my blog address, so if you're stopping in from that class, hello and welcome. This may not be quite the content you're looking for, but follow some of the other blogs in my list at the bottom of the page for people who post more fun stuff.

In about three and a half hours I'll be leaving for another public appearance... at Norwescon. I'm not attending the con itself, but Tonya of fetishwear.net asked Kaylee and I to model a set of matching suits for the fashion show tonight. I'm a Norwescon virgin, so this should be an interesting new experience at least.

It wasn't so very long ago that I would have shied away from both of these opportunities. I thought I needed to stay "in the closet" to protect my career and social status. I did adjust my career a little to make more space in my life for these things. Russell brought something up in the presentation at the university though that reflects pretty clearly my new prospective on these things. Society as a whole just doesn't care all that much what I do with other consenting adults. It's that vocal minority that we all live in fear of. The best way I've found to deal with them is just to be myself, happy and harmless.

Staying in place.

I had a nice walk to the clinic with Russell and then we sat down and waited...
Then Max showed up and we waited some more...
The majority of the staff was running around with that White Rabbit look in their eyes "I'm Late! I'm Late!"
We waited some more...
Jennifer, the amazing nurse of amazingness, eventually came out to lead us back to an exam room
Then she taped a light-weight metal ball to the lump in my back and sent me off for x-rays
I came back from the x-rays and Russell, Max, and I waited A LOT more...

Russell and Max must like me a whole awful lot, because neither of them is terribly comfortable staying in place for this long. We were all pretty tired and hungry by the time Dr. Williams made it to our room. So was Dr. Williams I imagine.

His first question was "Did I miss it?!" We have a mutual friend who spilled the beans about my SEAF entry and he was quite excited by this prospect. Clearly no segue was required to bring out the thank-you gifts. I presented the beautifully framed proof (thank you for all your help Robbie) and two pair of SEAF passes to a very delighted (if slightly harried at the end of his day) doctor and his nurse.

We didn't need to talk much about the x-rays or my progress because things are staying in place just exactly the way they should. The metal ball on my back confirmed that the hardware lump is the cross link and we can remove it easily enough, but it's probably best to wait until October or November. That creepy crunchy sensation people feel when I do my latest stupid human trick is a bursa that my body decided to grow over the hardwear to prevent wear and tear on the tissue around it. The human body is just freakin cool!

We discussed getting a masage therapy referral, but forgot to actually pass paperwork around at the end of the day. I'll call the office on Thursday and see about correcting that and make the next appointment for the beginning of July.

Oh! And!! I'll likely be cleared for Swing Dancing in 3 months! Yay! (yes all those exclamation points really are necessary)

Bondage Party

The point of this post is "I had fun at a party last night!" There are a couple of vaguely related to my back things in here, but for those of you who prefer to skip the sexier posts, you should come back tomorrow night when I post about my 6-month check-up scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.

After a full day of work, I wasn't sure I really wanted to go to the Bondage is the Point party last night. But, I had a fantastic toy to show off so temptation overcame my lazy butt. It just so happened that the toy also makes a fabulous dress so getting gussied up to go out was quick and easy.

Let me just say that the Bodyhose is worth every penny of the $75 Russell and I spent on it. I'm not kidding about it looking like a fabulous dress. When Max arrived at the party last night he asked if I'd brought the toy, having no idea that the garment I was wearing was the toy. He had a very sweet reaction to my demonstrating the dress's... erm... versatility.

But better than being a fantastically stretchy dress, it's also is a great excuse to get up-close and personal with highly-attractive, mostly-naked people. This is a major win. Seriously, "I can fit two people in here." has proved to be the best pick-up line I've ever used. On top of that, you and said highly-attractive, mostly-naked person then get to be the center of attention while you wiggle and explore the possibilities inside the hose. Extra win if you're an exhibitionist.

Bondage night was not just about squirming around in a giant spandex tube. I also learned an exciting new way to seriously disturb people with a stupid-human trick. Apparently, if someone puts his or her fingers over the place where my cross-link sticks out and then I flex my back muscles, it produces an extraordinarily unsettling sensation. I admit, I do enjoy being able to freak-out otherwise unflappable kinky folks with the mere twitch of a muscle. *insert mental image of me hopping and giggling gleefully at the disgusted reactions*

Alright, time for the Women's Welcoming Committee.

6 Months

As of yesterday, it has been 6 months since Dr. Williams and company cut me open and put me back together again. It's remarkably hard for me to grasp this right now.

6 months?! Really?

Tonight's story actually goes back to just about a year ago.

I was kneeling in Max's dimly lit living room at the end of a delightful date trying to decide if it was time to tell him about my surgery planning process. We were certainly connected a year ago, but not so woven into each others' lives yet.

Sharing this would be crossing into much more intimate and explicitly long-term territory. It's one thing to bring chicken soup to a date who has a cold. It's entirely different to be invited into the preparation for major orthopedic surgery and long-term recovery processes. These are the kinds of reveals that put all that "I'll always be there for you" pillow talk to the test.

In reality there really wasn't a decision to be made so much as courage to be gathered. It's not like I was going to be able to keep this process outside of his awareness for very long. Even still, there's a difference between "I'm going to do this." and "Will you support me through this?" I was considering putting a lot out there on the line.

Then again, that's what we are about. I made a practice of offering him those fragile, vulnerable parts of myself from the beginning of this relationship. He accepted and used every bit of what I had to offer. This was just a slightly more sizable chunk.

So, with my head on his knee and his hand in my hair I screwed up the courage. I told him about my upcoming appointment and tried to present the situation in a way that allowed him to gracefully decline too much involvement without giving the impression that he was uninvited. Just as he had done every time before (and since), he accepted the invitation and held my vulnerabilities gently in the palm of his hand.



The books and bulletin boards I read when I started contemplating surgery all warned me of the impact it would have on relationships. There was this foreboding sense that some number of the people would fail and/or fall away when things got tough. I'm here to say that has not been my experience what so ever.

Not one single person turned away from me when I asked for help. In fact, I have the privilege of adding several people to my list of caring, supportive friends because of their willing involvement in my recovery process. Love has always been there for me, in whatever manifestation I needed it.