on my mind (but not my body)

now that most of my life is not physically possible (for example, i do not have the stamina to go to the office and ceramics class in the same day), i have begun to brood about a return to sex work. not just a new york revival but the possible texas tour. i have been examining options with my mental, physical, and legal health in mind.

one thing that greatly appeals to me is foot fetish work. foot play is what originally drew me to the point of posting my first sex work solicitation. after attending a party where dacia deep-throated my faux leopard platforms and licked my toes, i was reminded of the thrills of foot play i used to enjoy with an ex or two. i believe the exact thought was, "i could get paid for this" (t-shirt coming soon if anyone aside from dacia and myself is interested).

however, my sex work career never really embraced my feet. between educational and conversational excursions, i worked with oral submissives who would pause at my toes en route to my full bush and squirting g-spot.

but watching dacia's many delightful experiences with foot play has put the tingling back in my toes. with foot play, i think i would construct a slightly different character than the educated slut studying sex and public health who likes to talk as much as she likes to play. i don't feel like an expert of foot play. i know what i like so far, but i have fairly limited experience.

plus i am still a little self-conscious about my tootsies. i grew up barefoot on the steaming sidewalks of texas. i then spent three years waitressing. plus five years in boots trudging through new york sludge. my feet have texture and are far from minty fresh.

so, i was thinking of adapting jane. giving her a new last name. making her a student completing her undergrad (true) and working part time at a diner on the lower east side (although not current, part of my life experience). i could wear skirts and tights and boots or converse. i could even market hairy legs as part of my LES queer grrrl chic. i always do better with a specialized market anyway and a chubby waitress with stinky feet needing some massage and pampering after a long day at school and work has to be some clients' ideal.

of course, i will need to be able to spend more than three consecutive hours awake and leave my apartment before i can implement this plan. the limitations of my body are getting on my nerves.

crawling back from the dead

so i am back in the city after a week and a half in my mother's care in ohio. the infections are backing off and now i'm just exhausted as opposed to coughing up a lung while lodged in the fetal position by grimace-inducing abdominal pain. my nurse practitioner says i can try to return to work next week, but might want to start with half days. my boss and coworkers (and friends and family) have been exceptionally supportive and don't want me to push myself too hard. it's nice to feel valued when you're away.

so, as i regain consciousness, i promise to blog again. thanks for the supportive comments and emails and kinky nurse cards (ms. librarian, naughty girl, i opened it when my mom was in the room!).

more later, but a line to let ya'll know i'm alive (and occasionally prone to texan conjunctions when i'm in sub-par conditions, such as sick, drunk, or surrounded by family).

ps dacia has promised to post a "jane is dead" blog if ever necessary. we've had plenty of time to discuss my eulogy in the er.

mutiny of my body

in brief, today sucked.

my body currently has:
*a sprained knee
*an upper respiratory tract infection
*a sore throat
*a g.i. infection
*(and as of this morning) a ruptured ovarian cyst
this has resulted in nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, dizziness, fainting, and twelve hours in the e.r.

fortunately, my body also has the love and protection of ms. dacia, who stood in the waiting room and by my side when possible throughout the ordeal, driving me home at one thirty in the a.m. and it was supposed to be her day off. i don't know what i have done to deserve her but i'm not taking her for granted. she is entitled to a lifetime supply of chocolate and sexual favors.

capitalist whore

i have launched my own brand of educated slut merchandise over at cafe press (coolest site ever, by the way). with shirts (and panties) promoting safer sex, education, and communication.

right now they are a handful of basic designs.
the basic "educated slut" shirt for boys, girls, and butt cracks
sex happens. talk about it. (the girl shirt has one sentence on the front and the other on the back)
i like my porn with condoms.
and
condom-only

so head on over to http://www.cafepress.com/educatedslut and drop some dough on your favorite ho. (oh, rhyming is almost as much fun as puns!)


ps if you guys have any ideas (or design skills) please let me know.

identity revisited

on the road back to the city with dacia (i have a car, i have never had a car before, this is a big step towards non-nyc living), we never reached a lull in our conversation.

we discussed the strength of our current support network and how much it will suffer when I leave the city. making new friends is always a challenge (as a girl who moves every three years on average, I can tell you it does not get easier with practice), but it can be especially challenging to us (people who have woven sexuality throughout our lives).

“Hi, I’m jane. I’m a dyke-identified bisexual woman who loves the term “fluid” to describe her sexuality. I have a degree in sexuality, will soon be pursuing my masters in the topic, and no, you can’t be my lab partner. I am a sexuality educator, certified as a sex coach, and a sex worker. I have had more sex in more combinations and circumstances in the last five years than most people will have in their lives. I have a long history of depression and anxiety, a close occasionally-closeted relationship with my family, and a craving to run away to the smokey mountains with a dog. I’m a knitter, potter, and creative mess. Oh, and I’m 22. This identity is subject to change and modification without warning.”

we have our friends who know our history. who knew us “before” — before dacia and jane, before sex work, before sex at all in some cases. do they know us better than more recent friends? do they know the “real” us? and does that imply that our current identities are not “real” or legitimate? dacia and jane represent us, however they are an image we control. in many ways they force us to be more honest with ourselves, but they also can serve as a wall between us and the outside world. and once they are established, how do we change?

lately, several comments and emails have highlighted some of the gaps between jane’s image and my life. i am a sex worker; however, i have not seen a client in months. i can count the number of times i have had sex with a partner (and the number of partners) in the last six months on one hand. i have been focused on my other work and on taking care of myself, mentally and physically.

sex work is exhausting. it is a care-taking profession. every session is centered on the client (which is why we are NOT overpaid). i leave some clients feeling leached by a succubus. when clients email me now, months after my last posting, i can barely harness the energy to respond to their enquiries.

so does this mean I am not a whore? (“I am still called an admiral although I left the sea long ago.”) i am not an active whore. and at this point i don’t know if i will ever go back to the type of services i previously provided. i think i would like to shift back to the more focused educational experiences. i want to teach clients more about their selves (not me, or women, or anatomy, or sexuality in general). i think this will involve a shift to betty dodson-styled sex coaching. it will also involve keeping my clothes on (gasp! imagine…)

i am stuck in a limbo of identities and life styles. i wonder where this will lead.

inappropriate apologies

as i am laying in bed, watching william h macy's ass in the cooler, he has a screaming orgasm. then immediately apologizes.

why?

the assumption that it is never long enough, hard enough, good enough?

i can't imagine having to apologize for every partnered orgasm.

when discussing sexual double standards, those faced by heterosexually active men are rarely addressed. the days of closing your eyes and thinking of england are over for the girls. women are supposed to concentrate on their pleasure. but men are expected to think of baseball stats and the queen of england to prolong their erection. they pay money to shroud their dicks in desensitizing lotion, while women burn their clits with "stimulating drops".

appreciate sex and appreciate your partners. enjoy a variety of play, including those that do not require an erection. focus on sensation, not the end goal of orgasm. don't keep score, but play fair by your partner.

explore, have fun, and never apologize for pleasure.

a lovely evening

despite the set-back of miss lower east side being sold out, i managed to have a great time tonight.

michael and i went to see the bindlestiff family cirkus. www.bindlestiff.org i have had a crush on philomena for almost four years now (and mr. pennygaff, aside from being my deep-throat mentor, makes me feel funny in my girl parts). they were hot tonight in from the gutter to the glitter, a night out with the bindlestiffs. it was a review of the history of american popular entertainment. a variety of acts, some i'd seen in past performances (of which i've seen a few), some i'd seen in video, and some i'd never seen. with live piano and fiddle accompaniment, there was song, dance, sword swallowing, whip cracking, balloon bondage, top whipping, glass walking, trapeze flying, fire eating, and some good old fashioned banter. fun was had by all.

after grabbing a t-shirt and a sticker from the lovely merchandise vixen with rhinestone eyelashes, michael and i crossed the street to this great little antique store that is often open til two am on saturday night, with the broken china and trinket mosaic store front and two dozen type writers at any given moment. i was looking for a classy cane to replace the orthopedic number that's been supporting my sprained knee all week. the owner immediately produced a hand-carved wooden walking stick from the 40's. aside from being of the perfect height, it has vulvas carved up and down the stem. it was made for me forty years before i was born.

we then headed over to crif dogs for a chocolate shake and tator tots with ketchup and nacho cheese (the best and only tots in the city i've come across). i wasn't hungry enough for a hot dog as well (it seems criminal to sit in there without one), but i'll pick up a pair from gray's papaya when i see my therapist this week.

i then took a cab to the train (saving thirty bucks) and gimped home. nights like these make me realize how much i will miss this city.

the fat whore talks back

The response to the cervix pics the other day were very positive (surprise, you guys like cunt). However, there was one comment that stood out and garnered a great deal of response from other readers. Anonymous posted:

*Wow, you're very overweight for a sex worker. I would have thought that a prostitute would actually have to be attractive...no wonder life, the boys wouldn't have wanted you, otherwise. As George Carlin said, "I wouldn't fuck her with a stolen dick!!" Also, the way your pussy sticks out and folds is rather disturbing to me. I also find it odd that someone would post pictures of their genitals on the internet but refuse to show their face. You truly are a whore and deserve your genital warts and the cancer that accompanies them. I wonder how you can have the lack of conscience to still have sex with various "customers" when you must know, being a sex educator like I am, that HPV CAN be spread even with the use of a condom. Then again, your clients deserve this fate, too. *

with the clarification

*I was trying to say, "no wonder you were a wh*re early in life, the boys wouldn't have wanted you otherwise". Apparently I've been censored *

I didn't find the original comment worth responding to, however, many of you rushed to save my honor and honor my pussy. Thank you for the support. But I fear you may have gone a bit overboard as the original commenter feels attacked. She posted a defense of her remarks today.

*Thank you for all of the kind comments. I suppose that I should have expected to hear from those defenders who spoke out against me. Contrary to what you thought, Nadia, I have been reading this blog for a while. I did see the website with all of the pussy pictures on them, and I found most of them rather unattractive, especially those on the last page that were labeled "extreme". That is simply my opinion, I am not saying that others who think differently are wrong, by any means. Where do I get my opinion from? I am a woman. I am also not underage, as someone else suggested. And to whoever came up with the label of troll, I would love to know where that was derived from. I don't see how that is in context.
It is not that I think that Jane is incredibly obese, by any means. It is only that, when I picture a sex worker, I picture someone who is not overweight. From the pictures, it looks like Jane is just that. That doesn't include the picture of her in a corset, of course, as lacing someone up can greatly alter what their body looks like.
As I also mentioned before, and as Jane mentioned herself somewhere in the archives, it is possible to spread HPV with the use of a condom. That Jane would still actively sell herself while knowing that this virus can be spread to any one of her clients, and then perhaps to their unknowing partners, is what I find immoral. It is not the business that she is in itself that I dispute, but her general carelessness for the welfare of others. If these clients spread the virus to their female partners, their chances of contracting cervical cancer rise greatly. I am pretty sure that the partners of these men are, for the most part, unaware of the fact that they are paying for the services of a whore. Does no one else think that there is anything wrong with this? ANYONE??
I did not personally insult anyone in this post and would appreciate if others would have the same amount of respect for me, although I doubt that it will happen. And as for not posting my name and contact info, I get the feeling that I would get some rather unpleasant responses and would like to keep the debate on this board, not in my inbox. I also don't have a membership with this website, and do not wish to sign up for one. *

Now, here is something I can respond to. And now I will.

Thank you for your response. It is far more articulate than your original comments which seemed crass and abusive. Now that you have outlined your points and concerns, I would be more than happy to address them. I will take them in the order of your second comment, if that is alright with you.

1. The presumption that the commenter was not a regular reader. There were some assumptions in your post that have been addressed in past entries. For example, I have discussed my body and my state as a sex worker who straddles the line between the assumed skinny girl norm and the bbw (big beautiful woman) markets. I have also discussed the services I provide and do not provide (for example, I do not provide penile-vaginal, penile-oral, or penile-anal penetrative intercourse. The only condoms in my work life go on my sex toys.)

2. Pussy attractiveness. Vulvas come in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors. People have preferences, just as they have for hair or facial features or breasts or penis size. You have a right to a negative opinion. However, as you also asked, I wonder where the opinion comes from. A preference for symmetry? A strong difference between mine and yours? I think the response questioning your exposure to vulvas was in regards to the standards of beauty being dependent upon exposure and perspective. If someone grew up in a town of white girls with blond hair and blue eyes, that would be reflected in their standard of beauty. They may find women with darker hair or eyes to be less attractive than the Nordic set. How would this person react the first time they met a woman of color with dark textured hair? Most likely in a negative manner as it is outside of their exposure. So where do your standards of pussy attractiveness originate?

3. The troll reference. "Troll" is a web term used to refer to someone who frequents a web site. I have heard it used in a neutral sense, "trolling for dates". However, it is also used to refer to someone who regularly contributes unwelcome negative comments to a community in which they are not a part (in this case by remaining anonymous you alienate yourself from the group; evening signing a pseudonym as many other "anonymous" commenters have would have been welcome). No one was implying you have wild hair and a gem stone in your navel.

4. Weight. I am not a small girl. I have never pretended to be a small girl. However, your assumption that my weight prevents my beauty and attractiveness from asserting itself is short-sighted and sad. Sex workers are people and come in a wide variety of flavors. Also, I have not always been this size (as I have also previously discussed), so my current crotch shot gives no perspective from which you could judge my adolescent slutdom (because there is a difference between a whore and a slut and this sight honors that distinction, thank you). And in regards to my lack of face shots, I have mentioned several times that my current job does not allow me to out myself in this forum (because I am not just a whore, something that can be picked up from previous entries as well as my title bar).

5. HPV and my commercial sex work. I am well aware of the means of transmission of hpv. I am also aware of the different types of hpv. HPV is spread through skin to skin contact. However, the risk of transmission of strands of hpv linked to cervical cancer (not the ones that cause warts, but thanks for those happy thoughts) is greatly reduced by the use of condoms. Some researchers even report condoms as highly effective at preventing the transmission of hpv linked to cervical cancer. But, regardless, my clients are not at risk. Nor are their partners. At least not by me. Because I don't provide full service. I don't have penile-vaginal, penile-anal, or penile-oral sex with clients. My most common activities with clients are them going down on me (low risk for hpv linked to warts, no documented cases of transmission of the cervical hpvs) and eating dinner or having drinks together (no risk of hpv transmission, there).

I hope this answers some of your questions. I would be very interested in your reply.

Sincerely,
Jane, the fat whore with the wrinkly twat who deserves warts and cancer

progress and needles

in my time of rest and recuperation with the gimp knee, i have watched too many movies, eaten too much take out, and blown more cash on cabs than i have in the last six months, combined.

however, i have also made some major steps. i began to clean my room. you laugh. i learned how to download free music from the artist's websites. i have reached a point where the end of my work project is visible.

i paid off my student loans last night. the north carolina pottery plan must hold until i hear back from grad school. maybe the second bonus will finance that adventure.

and i booked an appointment for my next tattoo. www.bowerytattoo.com i'll be getting ana mendieta's guanaroca woman 1. the only online image i can find is just a google thumbnail no longer supported by the original site. but, if you want to see the original piece in stone before it's injected under my skin, look at http://images.google.com/images?q=mendieta%20guanaroca&hl=en&lr=&sa=N&tab=wi

loads of excitement. don't worry, i'll get laid or think dirty thoughts soon.

my new boyfriend

thank you, michael, for introducing me to the father of my love child.

ernie cline should be my new boyfriend.

hey, i'm moving to texas. it could work.

we could make beautiful nerd porn together (http://www.ernestcline.com/spokenword/).

plus, he's only ten years older than me. that's great and rare. and i'm about to become a grad student. once you become a grad student, age is just a number. you date your 68 yr old professor of feminist lit and then have an ethical dilema when you break up about whether to bear your crushed heart to the dean and get her lying cheating ass fired or take it like the bigger better woman.

or not.

what sort of identity will i construct for grad school? who will i be and how will i find myself in houston?