Sweater vs. No Sweater

The following blog contains information regarding the male penis. If this offends you in anyway, please do not continue reading.

I spent some time online last night instant messaging with a friend of mine. We spoke about the usual subjects life, philosophy, jobs, family, etc. Then about two hours in our conversation took a slight turn. A questions was presented by me to my friend about their favorite body part, at which point my friend replied “my penis probably.” I asked him why and he said “my penis because its a good size, and looks pretty much just like a penis should, and seems to work very well… and doesn’t have anything cut off it…” This is how we got onto the topic of a sweater vs. no sweater on a penis. So the questions now turned to a topic that I have long wondered about, but not thought to ask.

What exactly is a sweater? Being a girl, and having never had a penis of my very own to play with and examine, I have been left to my own imagination as to the more specific details of what one may be like. Of course I have had the occasional boyfriend, who being comfortable enough with his own penis, has allowed me to examine their penis to my hearts content. However, up until now, I have not had experience with a penis that still had its sweater on. So you can imagine my excitement at being given the opportunity to ask all the questions I ever had regarding this subject. It was quite educational.

My limited interaction with this “natural” penis, led me to believe that a penis with a sweater had a second skin covering it. Something that a guy would in fact have to peel back, like a banana, prior to penetration. It was interesting to learn that my idea while completely understandable, was inaccurate. The “natural” penis is simply a penis with quite a bit of extra skin that provides a sort of shield for the head and shaft allowing it not to lose sensitivity. When men are young and this skin is removed. The surgery is actually cutting all the excess skin away leaving a ring around the penis that is an open circular cut, which will eventually heal back together leaving a scar and a variation is skin color toward the end of the shaft closest to the head.

I thought this was fascinating because it washed away my misconception regarding cleaning the “natural” penis. Since the sock concept no longer applied, it meant that they should have no difficulty washing themselves completely. It is the same as someone who is overweight then looses a large amount of that weight, being left with an excess of hanging skin, they have to make a conscious effort to clean under the folds of skin to prevent infection. But instead of peeling back the skin they can simply push the skin up or slide it up and down and clean themselves. This same theory applies to those with a “natural” penis.

I originally found it hard to grasp this concept above, when my friend tried to explain this to me. So he asked me to go get a really long sock and provided me with a “hands on” demonstration of what it was like to have a “natural” penis. After placing my hand inside the sock. He instructed me to hold onto the end of the sock with my hand that was inside it. This being done he then had me push the sock back toward my elbow, uncovering the fist with the sock end. Instantly it became clear to me what he had been trying to explain to me.

It was not a second skin, nor to be peeled like a banana. It was just a penis with a lot of extra skin. This skin had a purpose, helping the penis to stay sensitive and not become hardened from being exposed all the time. Though he did not successfully convert me into a “natural” penis lover. He did help me understand my misconceptions regarding the “natural” penis and has made me less adverse to the concept of dating someone with a “natural” penis.

The pleasure of my own company…

Call me crazy…but I like my alone time. I actually cherish it.

I find myself becoming a calmer person when spending time alone. I heal.

Why is that I wonder?

I used to be this social butterfly, constantly surrounded by friend and family. But as the years go by my need for solitude has increased dramatically.

I find myself searching for a career that will allow me to provide for myself as well as grant me the solitude I so desperately desire. Be it working from home, or traveling abroad taking photographs on my own. Sometimes I fantasize about living in a hut on an island along a wooden boardwalk on the water, with nothing but my laptop, camera and nature surrounding me. Documenting it.

Is this a possibility? I feel like I am finally ready to find myself, to figure out who I really am under all this pretense. But I am scared. I am scared to leave behind the things I have grown accustomed to, the people I have come to care, trust and love. But maybe I won’t have to. I guess only time will tell.

Drinking in Moderation

“I do not drink.”

At least this is what I tell most people, and for the most part its true. As with most things in life, however, I don’t believe you should ever deny yourself. Pending whatever it is you desire will not harm anything else. So an occasional glass of wine with dinner or a vodka tonic when going out to the bar with close friends, does not cause me to feel like I am a hypocrite. Though others may beg to differ.

I think I make that statement for the simple fact that is allows me to get out of having to socialize. Maybe it makes me feel more superior to other people. I am not sure.

I think that maybe I will stop making that statement and try to live my life in the present instead of the past, changing my opinions as I see fit. Instead of feeling as if I have to stand fast to them, as if some judgement is going to be made against me and I be imprisoned for them. Why do we as human beings feel the need to have to label and identify ourselves? Why can’t we like caviar one day and detest it the next?

I think most of it stems from our society forcing this down our throats everyday in media. I refuse to label myself any longer, I will not be categorized and filed away for someone to pull up my file a minute later and try to shove some other type of purse that I don’t really need down my throat. I don’t want to be able to identify myself with those fake starlets on the magazine covers.

I just want to be me and my only label my name.

Miscellaneous Ramblings That Make No Sense…

I am changing…

It recently occurred to me in a dream that my life isn’t how I expected it to turn out. I sometimes walk around in my waking life and feel detached as if it is all just a fantasy gone horribly wrong. Then I snap out of it and stop feeling sorry for myself and go about my usual stream of daily activities.

I was enlightened today by a friend of mine. I was informed due to my own lack of tack that I am a hypocrite. To an extent it is true, I guess. I advise people to live in the moment and be happy. To steer themselves away from unnecessary negativity, be that friends, lovers, jobs, family. But somehow I seem to constantly find myself in those situations with no hopes of ever resolving the real issues, the reason the issue exists. After evaluating my own situation out loud with them, I have come to realize that I am not truly a hypocrite, I am a settler. I would rather stay in a mediocre situation than venture out into the unknown. I have fear of being left behind, left out, and left in general. I worry about everything. My boyfriend not loving me, my brother moving somewhere and me never seeing him again. Waking up and not being able to call my mother or grandmother for advice, that I won’t follow. But the point is that they are here now, but will they continue being here tomorrow? I worry about people dying next week, today, this minute. Someone once told me that we begin dying the moment we are born. So why do I feel a sense of panic whenever I am left to my own thoughts on this subject? It all boils down to the need to be wanted and accepted. Try as I might, to not care what others think of me, at the end of the day my feelings are hurt even if I pretend that they are not.

Why I am eyore at times and piglet at others. I just wish sometimes I could be pooh.