Chapter 7. The sex life you try to forget.

2 Jun

 “I felt something wet and after he switched the light on I sat in horror”

I was thinking recently about the assumption I used to have that I was great in bed. Because everyone I knew wanted to sleep with me I got this inflated opinion of myself. As I have mentioned before, having sex doesn’t make you a sex symbol, but at the time I honestly believed I was a sex god. As I started to think back I realised that quite a lot of my sex life was just hilarity or embarrassment.

The fact that people still wanted to sleep with me suggests that people had been so embarrassed they had kept their mouths shut.

The first person I ever slept with is fairly tragic. It wasn’t until a few year later that I realised that he had actually never came when having sex with me. Obviously neither had I. Every time we had sex, about half way through something would happen that meant we had to stop. It was usually me getting bored. It seriously makes me wonder how desperate he must have been to still have sex with someone who used to get bored halfway through. I had such a deep fear of being on top during sex that I would just roll over when he got tired and stop.

He now lives with his twenty year older drug dealer who is also a prostitute. It might paint a clearer picture when I mention that she is the mother of his best friend. Her ex boyfriend who had just gotten out of prison to find out she had left him, went round his parents house and poured paint stripper all over their brand new car. And to think, his mother thought I was going to be the worst girlfriend he would have in his life.

A while after we broke up I met someone new. For some reason I was no longer scared to go on top. I was also no longer scared to do anything. He could have chained me up in a sex dungeon and kept me as a slave and I would have went along with it. We used to sneak away when I was at work and have sex in the store room. Most of the things that happened no one would even believe. Having sex halfway through the annual school cross-country in the bushes beside the track as people ran past was pretty outrageous.

I got a summer job looking after someones house while they travelled. It was mostly cleaning work and making sure their horses were fed. He came to see me one day while I was still working and we snuck off to the bathroom. On the marble floor he finally managed to persuade me to do anal.  I got so tense that he decided to loosen me with his finger. As he pulled it back out a horrible smell filled the dark room. I felt something wet and after he switched the light on I sat in horror with my own faeces running down my legs.

At some point I will share the rest but for now I will leave you with that image.

Chapter 6.

2 Jun

“you cant skulk around in Louboutins.”
They say that nightmares are the things that you subconsciously fear all through the day and they follow you in to your sleep. Most people dream of losing a loved one or of ghosts or monsters. One of my biggest fears is being the person I used to be. No matter how much you change you can’t stop your brain from telling you that you are still the same.
The real monsters are the voices inside you and they will destroy you if you pay attention to the things they say. I try to push them away but I still have days where I think I will always be the loser that no one likes. When I meet new people I am instantly sure that they know what I used to be like. I am convinced that they are looking at me thinking “she’s such a freak” or “she’s boring and ugly”. A simple glance from a stranger leaves me paranoid for hours. I guess I don’t truly think the disguise I have put up is strong enough to mask what I used to be like.
The nightmare I had the other day stemmed from a message an old friend sent. They were the one who turned everyone I had ever known against me. For days I thought about replying, sat organising my thoughts so I would know what to say, preparing stories of my life now to fill them in. Then I realised I couldn’t. It wasn’t an issue of forgiveness, my life is so much better without them. It was that I am a different person now. I couldn’t find one single thing to say to them, and I couldn’t have anyway. What if I slipped back in to the old me? The me who was so awful that they could be forgotten about in the space of a week even after being best friends for over ten year.
I feared that any kind of wall I had built up would crumble and I would be left feeling exactly how I used to. Scared, insecure and ugly. Looking fantastic isn’t a good enough defence. You need to have confidence in yourself as well. You need to be able to stand there looking decent and have a lifestyle you are proud of to back you up, that way you stand tall. After all, you cant skulk around in Louboutins.
You can have anything you dream of if you want it badly enough. I know this isn’t good advice but there is no better feeling in the world than proving someone wrong. Try it. Become everything you wanted and show it to the people who said you could never do it. It is made all the more sweet knowing they got nothing and still live at home whilst you live your dreams.

Chapter 5. Having sex doesn’t make you a sex symbol.

30 May

 

 

“I would like my readers to pause dramatically here while they imagine the implications of oral sex with a period thrown in.”

In my life I found it too easy to mistake my own beauty for mens desire. When men want to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you are beautiful, it just means they want sex and think they can get it from you. Well that’s how it worked for me. If you think me living my life by an Oasis song was bad, nothing beat taking life inspiration from Samantha from Sex and the City. Having a ‘to have sex with’ list and making it my life ambition to fulfil it wasn’t the best idea I have ever had.

I like to make out that the Italian boy in student halls was the only boy to take me as a fool and to use me. If you believe this you would be very mistaken. My whole life was pretty much one boy after another seeing how far they could get with me. Which was usually all the way. I believed that people wanting to have sex with me meant I was beautiful, every time I slept with someone new I was filled with a kind of pride. A sense of self confidence because surely all these men wanting me meant I was a sex symbol.

My friends were far from acting like nuns. In-fact, no disrespect to them but they were sluts as well. Everyone in my group of friends had slept with each other. At one party even two of the girls slept together. In the kitchen in-front of everyone incase anyone was wanting some sordid details. One of them was on their period at the time, just thought I would throw a little background in there. I would like my readers to pause dramatically here while they imagine the implications of oral sex with a period thrown in.

With this kind of lifestyle being completely normal I never realised how cheap it made me.

My first year in Uni I carried on sleeping with people in the belief that I was in control of the situation. I wasn’t, I didn’t realise that whoring myself around wasn’t giving me power, it was taking it away. Every time I slept with someone I was punishing my self-pride even more. The worse I felt the more times I had sex to try and feel better. It was a vicious cycle.

I remembered something the Italian boy told me. I had mistaken it for a mistranslation at the time but it really struck me when I finally realised the kind of reputation I had. We were stood smoking when he turned to me and said “I like you, I have more chance of getting something with you than I have with anyone else”.

I would like to say that I have changed but I guess I will have to work on that. I like to think I wouldn’t sleep with someone just for the kicks but the reality is I probably would. I know I usually leave each chapter with a moral but there isn’t one. Once a cheap slut always a cheap slut sadly. The gap between being a slut and being frigid is pretty thin, and I don’t want to be either.

 

Chapter 4. Getting back at an ex by being beautiful?

29 May

“he felt me up but nothing more. It was like being 15 again and being 15 was never great!”

Everyone needs a reason to be beautiful. Getting back at an ex is the usual motive.

I used to tell myself that I was trying to be beautiful to get back at a boy from Uni halls. I wanted him to see that he wasn’t better than me and to maybe want me again. At which point I would just politely walk away. After all, I didn’t want him back I just wanted him to want me back.

We didn’t really date but we used to spend a lot of time together. Almost every night we would stay up and watch movies then go to sleep cuddled up. We used to kiss and he felt me up but nothing more. It was like being 15 again and being 15 was never great!

At the time I thought he was being romantic and he must have liked me but, deep down I worry that he actually found me too unattractive to want to sleep with me. He was an Italian student and way out of my league. Despite the language barrier I know he was Catholic so part of me thinks he was genuine and was waiting to take it further. However he was hardly a priest and I know Italian’s have a reputation for sex.

One day I was sat in my room and it dawned on me that he was stringing me along. He only ever invited me down to his room and never came to mine, never talked to me outside of the building, never went anywhere with me, never paid attention to me around his friends. The list went on. With horror I realised that I was being taken for a total idiot. I was that girl. One of those girls I had noticed in school who was obsessed with a boy who didn’t like them back. I wasn’t obsessed with him at all but it must have looked that way.

I deleted his number and never spoke to him again.

After I moved out of halls I never saw him again. I didn’t even know if he was still in the same country. I imagined little scenarios in my head in which I would see his friend and get talking. I would then casually ask about him and tell her to say hi from me. Then she would tell him how amazing I looked.

I saw her. Its funny when the little scenes in your head work out in real life. She stared at me for ages as if she recognised me from somewhere. I smiled and introduced myself and it clicked. She was shocked and couldn’t stop complimenting me. Then she said he was still here and that she would tell him she had seen me. She said “he will regret letting you go, you look incredible”.

That didn’t happen. When you lie in bed at night and imagine, those things rarely work out. I saw her in a shop, walked straight towards her. She glanced at me and didn’t even register that she knew me. I was a stranger to her. I walked out fighting back tears. The only hope I can get from that is that I look so different that people don’t even recognise me. Makes it hard when you want people to recognise how different you are. I guess I need something else to be beautiful for because I have come too far now.

Chapter 3. The how to be hot list.

27 May

“You can’t hide in a bikini.”

I am not proud of the fact I put looks first on my to do list but people always judge a book by the cover so it was essential. I would guess that 99% of the people you see, you don’t talk to. They will be judging you solely on your appearance. Remember Susan Boyle on Xfactor.

They say appearances can be deceiving, I hoped that looking pretty and confident would make people think I was just that.

You can edit the list to suit what you find to be attractive in women but this is what I found.

The hot list:

  • Long hair is a must. Sweeping fringe and soft curls is always perfect. Roots should have volume.
  • The hottest girls have a golden tan. Preferably fake as sun beds are not hot.
  • Eyebrows neat and defined. Dark hair should have matching dark eyebrows.
  • Perfectly polished makeup. Made to look natural as no one wants to look like a prostitute.
  • Lipstick always. Gloss when it isn’t windy.
  • Smell amazing constantly.
  • Nails neat and painted. Toes to match.
  • Dress as though you are trying to dress casual but happen to look smart. Skinny jeans, heels, little hand bag and a loose top  for example.
  • Your bag is your personality. Make it beautiful and a statement piece. Not too large as you don’t want to look lopsided on your heels.
  • Shoes should always be heels when possible. Pack flats to walk in, heels to make an entrance in. Limping is not hot, any extended walking will need your flats.
  • A hot body is a must. The gym should be your best friend and your favourite place. Having a hot body is not a chore. Enjoy your exercise.
  • Go to the jacuzzi or the pool often. This will force you to keep your body hot. You can’t hide in a bikini.
  • Push up bra. No need to explain really.
  • Confidence when you walk. Look as if you know you look good.

The inspiration:

Chapter 2. Why can’t we all be beautiful?

27 May

“I thought it made me look cool to be living an Oasis song.

Quick lesson in life: never take life inspiration from a rock and roll band.”

Around three month after leaving student halls I deleted my Facebook account. I was free from everyone who had known me (and probably hated me). I was free from their judgement and from any “you have changed” comments (which I had secretly hoped would come at the beginning to prove to myself I was different). I disabled the account and left it at that. A year later and I went back on in a moment of weakness. I panicked, deleted every image and wall post, and disabled again.

I cried for a day after that 5 minute moment of weakness. The issue I had wasn’t with the people on there or the things they had said, it was my images. I had actually walked around in public looking that bad. The worst bit was that I had been popular with boys in student halls. I knew none of the sex meant anything don’t get me wrong, I had just kidded myself that I was desirable in their eyes. Some kind of kooky version of Megan Fox. No, I was just the block slut. An ugly one at that.

My appearance had suffered from the general student lifestyle. I was never hot in school but I did look healthy and my body was good from the copious amount of exercise that I did. After I went to Uni I replaced exercise with cigarettes and alcohol. I guess I thought it made me look cool to be living an Oasis song. Quick lesson in life: never take life inspiration from a rock and roll band.

My body looked like it was heading in to chubby territory from the lack of exercise, my face had bloated from lack of sleep and too much alcohol. My hair which I used to get cut and dyed every month was now a lank, greasy, red faded mess. My makeup consisted of too much eyeliner and a bright red lipstick that did not suit me, matched with the red hair it was almost comical. As for my clothes, I don’t know what was happening there. In one image I looked like I was trying to be a member of an indy band.

After the tears subsided I was filled with a kind of drive and determination. I knew that with the right attention to detail anyone could be hot. Take a look at early pictures of celebrities, in the days before the stylist, if you don’t believe me.  If they could do it, why can’t I? Why can’t we all do it?

All it would take was some beauty knowledge, some time and plenty of preparation. I trawled the internet compiling the most beautiful girls to see what they did right, I planned every painstaking detail. And so the how to be hot list began…

Chapter 1. The beginning.

27 May

“You’re not what you are, you’re what people think you are”

The last year of school for me was hell. In my first year at sixth form I had made the mistake of only making friends with the year above me, which meant that after they left I was for the most part friendless. I had fallen out with my friends from outside of school and due to the wonders of Facebook spreading everything, pretty much everyone in the school was against me as well.

Rumours (most of them true) flew around and any level of popularity that I had vanished. I was left to sit by myself in the library every break. Dinner time was spent in starvation because it was better to starve than to sit on my own in the dining hall. The ‘uncool’ kids who had spent their whole school lives in the same situation wouldn’t even be my friends. They looked at me with contempt. I guess they thought, rightly, that I deserved it.

After removing the old friends from Facebook and moving to Uni at the other end of the country, I realised I could start again. A brand new fresh start in which no one knows me. I could be everything I wanted to be. Pretty, popular, funny, cute and everything else the superficial people see the perfect girl being. I made the mistake of believing that being myself would be good enough. After having to move out of student halls early because everyone hated me, realising the person I loved had been cheating on me and falling in to a depressed self loathing mind set, I realised I had to change.

The world wasn’t out to get me. I was out to get myself.

A sad fact of life is that you aren’t what you are, you’re what people think you are. This is my journey to become the person I always wanted to be. I feel that being yourself will allow people to like you if you are genuinely a nice person and happy with yourself. However the person I was, was not likeable or happy. Something had to change and that was me.

This could act as a warning against being fake or it could act as an inspiration to change those bits of yourself that you don’t like. I am not at the end yet so cannot see how this is going to change my life. I wish everyone who is going to join me on this path luck and I hope it turns out well, for all of us. I need this.