I look at this photo and I smile.
I smile because it brings back memories. Different kinds of memories. The first, and most obvious memory is the piercing, the ring I am referring to in the title. By the time this photo was taken, the ring was just short of a year old. My clitoral hood piercing was done on 7 August 2004, the day after Master T and I moved in together. It was done as a remembrance of that day, as a token of our love. almost like a wedding ring if you like. I cannot tell you how proud I was to wear this ring, but it took quite some persuasion on Master T’s side to get me to agree to have the piercing done. He actually never went into long discussions about it, but just occasionally said: “I want to have you pierced.”
I was the one who finally had to get used to the idea, who had to grow towards it and finally asked: “Where do you want me to have my first piercing?”
The rest – as they say – is history.
But, that’s not the only thing in this photograph that makes me smile. Do you see the stretch marks on my tummy? Do you see the wavy line below it? Do you see the two lighter dots on my mound? Can you imagine what a long way I have come to just show you this photo? I am no longer ashamed of all these marks on my body. I am no longer ashamed that pregnancies have left the stretch marks. I am no longer ashamed of the operation scar that I have once seen as grotesque and appalling. I am no longer ashamed of those two asymmetric white dots where the drains were inserted when I had the operation. I am no longer ashamed of me. This is who I am, with all my flaws and my beauty. Take me as I am, honest in words and pictures…
(click to enlarge)
© Rebel’s Notes