beauty imperfect

I am currently addicted to the Nip/Tuck series. Yes, yes. Its been around for ages and I’ve only got to watching it this week. Hey, better late than never, eh?

I have just finished season 1, and my favourite episode is Nanette Babcock. Why?

*Spoiler alert!*

This episode talks about Nanette Babcock; she is a very much overweight manic depressive. Her 10 year high school reunion is coming up, and she wants to go as a new person. Especially since she found out that the popular class president whom she still has a major crush on will be going post-divorce.

Long story cut short, the plastic surgeons declined her case as they feel that she has unrealistic expectations and require a different kind of help. It was discovered that she quit her lithium medication because it made her gain weight, and she is growing crazier by the minute.

In the part where the psychologist goes to her house, it was kinda creepy but touching in a way – she simply wants to be beautiful. The walls were stuck with posters of “perfect-bodied” models. Nanette has worked hard to achieve this, but she couldn’t do it alone. She needed plastic surgery for a dramatic change.

“All my life I’ve been rejected...you rejected me even when I was willing to pay!”

That’s raw emotion right there, and I truly admire the actress who played Nanette.

It got me thinking – who does not want to be perfect? True, we can never be perfect, but what does perfection mean? It is not physical beauty, and it is not simply about inner beauty. Then, what is? Is it a balance between outer and inner beauty? Is it even possible? How many of us look into the mirror and see a perfect balance?

I know I don’t see anything beautiful in the mirror.

I understand why Nanette pulled the trigger on herself. When even your last resort was refused you, how and where do you find the strength to hope again? And you know that you can never go back to what you were before. When the road ahead is cut off, there is no other way but the end.

Morbid? Yes. One-sided thinking? Yes.

This episode relays a really strong message – in my naive opinion, we really need to find the beauty in every imperfection. If not, the journey for perfection will only consume you and in the end, kill you.

Ah, but maybe some will see it as a beauty.

i call it creative writing

Last night, while going through my own blog and those of my friends, I was suddenly hit by the creative writing bug. I realised that my blog has been too stagnant and boring for too long. It was time to spice things up.

So out of nowhere, I began writing erotica. Hey, who said this blog was for the faint of heart?

I haven't written for so long, it was a struggle at first. But after awhile, it got pretty enjoyable. I will admit, what I've written is not perfect, but hopefully it gets you in the mood to do the sexay!

This is my first experiment with erotica. And frankly, I found that I quite like writing filthy shit. So read on, if you think you've got what it takes. And let me know what you think.

;)

WARNING: This post contains sexually explicit content. So if you are a prude, non-horny virgin and less than 18 years of age, you are highly advised to leave this page.

***

For days I’ve been imagining his body on top of me; that beautifully toned physique, hand pulling my hair, tongue playing on my breast whilst he pushes against me, taking pleasure in every moan.

And now here he is, right in front of me. I find my fingers tracing the outline of his jaw, moving slowly from his temple to his cheekbones, and finally stopping at his lips. I gasped when he took my fingers and started licking them gently. I could feel a tremor moving down my spine, and somewhere in between my thighs, there’s that all too familiar warm and tingly sensation.

Sensing my anticipation, he pushed me onto the bed and nudged my legs apart with his knee. As he bent down to kiss me, his fingers were already moving under my skirt. We kissed hungrily, our tongues savouring the taste of each other.

Just when I feel as if my body would explode with longing, he found that sweet spot and began circling it. Softly at first, and then with increasing pressure. I couldn’t stop moaning. It feels so damn good, I don’t want it to ever stop.

His other hand pushed my shirt up and removed my bra, exposing my breasts. The feel of his tongue against my nipple, biting and teasing, sent a shockwave of excitement through my body. This is making me crazy. If I have to wait any longer for his cock to enter me, I will go mad.

“Fuck me now.”

In an instance, his clothes were off. How he does it so quickly, I do not know. But the sight of his erect cock makes me even wetter and I spread my legs wide, inviting him to come to me.

He paused for a second, looked at me with that evil twinkle in his eyes and said “Wait.”

Wait?! I need him now, goddammit!

He lowers himself to kiss me once more, slipping his fingers inside of me. I feel myself spiralling into a fuzzy haze of pleasure, making me moan even more. Ohhhh, yea... Just right there.

Without warning, he slid into me and I let out gasp. Oh God, yea! I could feel every inch of him moving in and out, every thrust, and I was craving for more. Harder, deeper.

Our bodies move together in perfect rythmn. We kissed passionately as he rocked my body with his desire. I can feel my muscles tightening and my body shivering from pure ecstasy. I was about to orgasm.

My back arched and I moaned even more.

“I’m coming...”

He thrusted harder; I can see the satisfaction in his eyes. And he said to me “Yes, come for me. You’re my baby girl, Sarah.”

I stopped. What?!

“Who the hell is Sarah?!”

end of an era

Its been almost a year.

I still remember the interview, the assessment, the first day. Getting to know the people around you whilst in training. Digesting all the insane amount of information and thinking, "how on earth do people do this shit as if there's no pressure at all?"

I still remember how as days passed, cliques begin to form; how u always have lunches with certain people after flitting from a group to another, trying to find one that matches u best.

I still remember how we got separated into smaller groups for "hands on" practice, and then how once training was over, we got divided into teams, finally joining the sharks in the big bad world.

I remember how cold it used to be in winter, going back and forth from work was always such a pain because of the bitter chill. Oh, but the snow! The snow was lovely.

I remember all of these, and I doubt that I will ever forget. As much as I moan about working in the place, it made up the working part of my life in the UK. This was where I started. This was where I began building my life.

But as they say, all good things must come to an end. And today, was my last day at work.

I've kept it really quiet, and asked my manager to do so. But the cheeky bastard, along with the rest of the team bought me a huge tin of Millie's Cookies and a card.

I nearly cried. See, now there was a reason why I wanted to keep things low key.

But to be very honest, I really really appreciated it. They've managed to keep it low key, yet did a little something to mark the occasion.

And then word leaked out.

And by the end of work, everyone was giving me hugs with encouraging words.

Ah...

Today was the last time I did what I've done for the past year. And probably the last time I will ever see some of the people whom I've gotten to know well.

It is the end of an era.

This marks the closing of a chapter of my life really soon; one which I simply wish will never end. For in the few years of my life here in UK, I grew up, learned a few valuable lessons, discovered myself, and found peace with myself.