Hippies Use Backdoor

55 - Undressing for the Camera

Fri, 16 May 2008 01:13:55 +0000

Between money being tight and my constant world curiosity I found myself responding to a photographer’s add on Craig’s List earlier this week regarding “tasteful nudes.” He said he’d pay $20 an hour and it would last one to two hours. +I get copies.

After telling J he’d be getting a surprise shortly I caught The Max minus bra and panties (they leave marks!) to my studio destination. As always, I managed to get lost on my way but I soon found the studio location. The gentleman led me up the stairs of an old brick building and into one of those cool little elevators that open up+down with the cage-wall things.

I had been wondering on my way over if this really was a good idea… You know, to meet a strange man in an old brick building to get naked where no one could hear me scream. -And the elevator reminded me of old horror flicks.

We made it to our destination, a studio that overlooked a Burnside parking lot. Two huge windows, tons of miscellaneous furniture, and a sponge-painted tarp that hung off of a fake wall. He gave me some water and we sat and talked for a few minutes, he took a few photos of me with my dress on and then gave me the order:

Off with your head! Er, I meant clothes.

I stood there for a moment, wondering, am I really going to do this? Like a band-aid, I took it off quick.

So there I was, standing naked, in this random studio overlooking Portland. -With a strange man and his camera. Oddly enough, I found myself a lot more confident and comfortable than I thought I would be. Actually… I think I felt more confident in my photos nude than while clothed.

He directed me and I made fun of him while he tried placing my arms without actually touching me. We talked a lot, everything from the war to his large format camera he was using.

I felt really beautiful. Not the beautiful J makes me feel, but… A different sort. It wasn’t like I had imagined it would be. It wasn’t flashy, and it certainly wasn’t Playboy. The camera guy wasn’t running around telling me to make love to the camera. It was very guided, and I was beautiful.

We wrapped it up, sat and talked a little while longer, and he paid me three times as much as he was supposed to and asked me if I wanted to do it again. He said I was the best model he’d had yet. Apparently I have a “nice shape” and personality.

It’s one thing when your significant other tells you that you look good. (Which J, if you’re reading this, it’s always nice hearing from you :)) But when a photographer, who’s seen hundreds of naked models over the course of almost thirty years tells you that you have a nice figure… Well then, that’s a totally different thing.

Anyway, he wants to make it a continuous project. -On the condition that I grow my cooter hair out Which for the experience alone -Not even including the pay, is well worth it in my book. Next time we’ll be going out to a little Italian Villa-type place. Needless to say, I’m way excited.

Oh, and I’ll probably be getting a lecture from J.

…And a sunburn.

Oh well.

PS I get the photos next week, will share

54

Thu, 15 May 2008 04:49:28 +0000

Is it ridiculous that we’re two years out of high school

and I still get giddy every time I see my high school sweetheart?

53

Thu, 15 May 2008 04:28:04 +0000

I’m sitting here knitting a hat for the shop… And I have sweaty boobs.

I think it may be officially spring.

52 - On Maternal Instincts

Wed, 14 May 2008 23:07:21 +0000

Am I normal?

This question will forever remind me of the horrible 70’s sex ed video they show you in middle school. After explaining to my group what the clitoris was… I decided, no, I wasn’t.

Maybe now I am. Sorta. In this area anyway. Maybe?

Earlier this fall J and I were pregnant, I guess technically I was pregnant, point was, there was a baby. Half J, half C. A couple months into it I miscarried. Which, really was the best thing for us. -And the baby.

We’re both young, college students, barely stable enough to take care of ourselves, let alone a baby.

Except ever since that time I go through little phases where I feel… Empty. Really empty. I swoon and sigh at every enlarged belly and small child I see. Then I buy things.. Lots of things. Lots of things I don’t need to fill that ridiculous little gap; and then when my phase passes I return most of them.

This whole “maternal instinct” thing is gettin’ really old. I know I’ve done a lot and accomplished quite a bit for someone my age. But isn’t it a bit early for this? Is it just because of the miscarriage? Do most girls go through this at my young age?

Hey Maternal Instinct: Go away for about… Oh, at least six years. Let’s say 10.

But I’m still left wondering about this, is it normal?
Am I normal?

51

Wed, 14 May 2008 19:48:43 +0000

How cool this this?

Now you can use your BPA leeching bottles as sweet lanterns.

50 - (18+)

Tue, 13 May 2008 16:27:52 +0000

it’s kind of flattering when you write a review for something…

And then it goes out of stock.

49 - my felines chill in litter buckets

Tue, 13 May 2008 16:22:30 +0000

…

48

Tue, 13 May 2008 16:07:11 +0000

What’s with this whole “wanting to have a baby” thing?

Damn you maternal instinct…

47

Tue, 13 May 2008 03:36:27 +0000

Guess what ya’ll?

cerochellet.etsy.com

46 - Hospital Stay: The Final Chapter

Sun, 11 May 2008 23:05:58 +0000

Hospital stays are never glamorous. The movies dress them up significantly. You get all sweaty and gross and smell bad. …Or maybe that’s just me.

There really wasn’t much excitement during my next couple days there.

I had a series of blood draws, urine measurements, vitals, IV cocktails, and doctors poking at my belly on a regular basis. One blood draw was horrible… And I’ve had bad blood draws. I’m talking like… Squirming with the needle in my arm and trying not to cry while on morphine pain-blood-draw. Yeah.

My meals were either forgotten, cream of ______, or they had forgotten I was vegan and had an abundance of animal products in them. But I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I’d smile and tell the nurse I appreciated their help as they jabbed me with another needle.

How can you complain when you have the nicest room in the house and the room next to you has two fatally ill patients?

I may have a hole in my belly that the doctors can’t find, but at least I’m not dying. Optimism, right?

Happy Mother’s Day, ya’ll.