On occasion, i take selfies. Unlike a world seemingly desperate for attention, i have no interest in posting them on facebook. i’m looking to see what is in my eyes, what secrets they betray. i look at myself objectively, as if an observer, because what i find that way is often much kinder than how i view myself left to my own devices. Sir Raven dresses me in ways that exaggerate my feminine form, showing off breasts, hips, and ass. i had not realized how much my style had changed until two different people in Florida remarked that i had gone from “dressing like a nun to being dressed like a whore.” In general, i hope that men who look enjoy the show, and if not-don’t look. i feel a gigantic shrug, either way. i show my body and take confidence in it for Sir Raven. i see my body the way she instructs me to, most of the time.
When i start to see myself too negatively for too long, i take photos and look at them as if i’m looking at a stranger. i’m generally surprised to find something beautiful.
At her work a few weeks ago, she casually demanded my phone so a staff member could take pictures of the branch. It was then i recalled that i have taken some pictures that are revealing, and i don’t just mean what is in my eyes. i occasionally send her breast pictures, or silly pictures, or offers for s/m while she is at work. i haven’t done that in awhile, but i didn’t delete the pictures either. She used to keep a file on her phone she called “her happy place” and they were nudes of me in the tub or wearing her marks.
i hardly ever think to remove my glasses and look, really look, at my eyes. This is my updated make-up, a little less natural than i usually go for, but a look Sir Raven is liking.