One thing I struggle with is self-confidence. Both in what I do and more physically. I do things in real life under both my real name and a pseudonym and find it easier not being “me” – under my pseudonym, I am ‘more than,’ an exaggerated, more confident self. Still struggling when I do things that put me in a more public gaze, but easier than when I’m just me. It’s my ying and yang, my extrovert and my introvert.
I’ve never been good at the limelight – like I suggested in last week’s prompt, “celebrity.”
And physically, I’ve never been confident – always been criticised or felt like I’m not enough. I’m the largest in the family and I’m only a UK size 16, but it’s still made me feel the odd one out. My health means I can’t easily lose it and I do have a penchant for wine, which makes it all the harder.
And in the past, I’ve tried to be invisible, whether sexually or in every day life. In the bedroom, it’s been a safer option. Not putting myself out there means I can keep myself safer, not having to address my fears and icks and squicks.
I’m not an exhibitionist and hide under layers of clothing.
But in the last couple of months…
I fucked in front of glass balcony doors overlooking a city, with the lights on and couldn’t get enough of it.
I had an incredible cunnilingus experience, where I was in total focus.
I found that I like to be on top, and in the process that I don’t give a shit what I look like… I just enjoy the moment.
I’ve had yet another piercing and have most of my hair undercut. I don’t blend in.
I’ve found my voice. I’ll ask for what I want.
Perhaps, just perhaps, this is what confidence is. Not a twenty-four seven thing but something that happens in smaller doses and each thing is a step in the right direction. It’s being able to be vulnerable but knowing it’s the way forward.
I don’t know, but I need to keep pushing on. It feels fucking awesome.
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