A woman’s body?


So, it seems I’ve attracted the attention and ire of  the “outrage for hire” brigade. I suspect it was always likely to be a matter of when, rather than if, so at least I’ve got it out of the way.

So what, pray tell, was the reason for incurring their wrath?

Well, it appears, I had the audacity and temerity to say that my body is a woman’s body and, that in doing so, I was being cis-sexist and trans-exclusionary.

My simple, and in eloquent response to that is that they are talking bollocks.

I am, after all, a woman and, if you prefer, a cis-woman. However, in the context of my use of the term “woman’s body”, that “cis” prefix is nothing more than meaningless padding.

Why meaningless?

Simply because the term “woman” in the context that I use it means all women, be they cis, trans, or any other label they prefer to use. The basic fact, and the central core of my point is that anyone who identifies as a woman is a woman. There is nothing exclusionary about that. I use the term “woman” as a shorthand for all women, regardless of their assigned gender at birth, or their reproductive biology. If you accept that definition then, from there, it follows that all women, have women’s bodies and that there is nothing cis-sexist or exclusionary in that either.

In my own personal context, my own “woman’s body” happens to have breasts, a clitoris, a vulva, a vagina, a womb, ovaries, etc. Mine does and, I think it’s reasonable to say, so do the bodies of the majority of women. Yes, some cis-women, as a result of surgery may not have all of those parts, but that doesn’t negate the fact that cis-women are the majority, that this is true. However, not all women are cis-women, and as such, their bodies may (or may not) have penises and testicles. They are, however, in my opinion and mode of belief, still women’s bodies, because they are the bodies of people who identify as women and, therefore, are women.

When I blog, I am generally blogging about sex and the people I have had sex with. Over the 30+ years that I have been sexually active, my partners have all been cis (or at least were presenting as cis when I had sex with them). Again, this isn’t prejudice on my part, nor is it exclusionary, it’s just simply a fact. In that context, when I use the terms man/men or woman/women, in my blog, there is an implicit assumption that I am using the cis variant of those words, but I am not excluding anyone, nor am I being biased in favour or against anyone. I am simply recounting my experiences from my point of view and my assumed point of view of the other participants in the activities I am recounting.

Now, the purpose of this post is not to change anyone’s mind. It was simply to illustrate that people, particularly those of a self-righteous disposition, are often far too quick to assume a negative interpretation of something, without bothering to avail themselves of the actual facts, simply because that snap condemnation fits their narrative. Perhaps these people just need to lash out, and adopting a position of righteous indignation whenever they find something they can take exception to provides them with outlet, or a coping mechanism of sorts. Of course, the could also just be bullying narcissists who get off on attacking people to attract attention to themselves; who can say?

Language is flexible and always evolving, but language without context is merely words; context is everything. Attacking someone’s words without first trying to understand their context or the meaning intended by the person who wrote them is just lazy bias on the part of the reader – it is nothing more than noise. The fact that some people need to take offence simply to validate themselves is a pity, but it reflects more on them than the person they are taking offence at.

Body image and nudity


I like my bum. Sadly for it, in terms of the attention it gets from oglers, it is most definitely overshadowed (not literally, obviously; that would be freaky) by my boobs. Now, as it happens, I like my boobs too most of the time, but I happen to think my bum is my best feature and it gets somewhat neglected in the getting checked out stakes.

For everyone, especially us women, body image is a very complicated and very personal thing. I am quite fortunate that I happen to like (most of) my body. My face is nothing special (yet another reason for not showing it) and I hate my feet. As for the rest, it’s pretty much how I like it. OK, so it’s size and shape changes from time to time, but it’s been pretty much constant since I was about 16/17.

That’s not to say I’ve always been as self-confident. My boobs in particular caused me a lot of grief in my early teens.

As I’ve mentioned to the point of nausea, I went to an all girls school. I was also quite an early developer on the boob front. As such I got quite a lot of teasing from my still flat-chested classmates. You might have thought that this would have lessened as their own boobs sprouted but alas no. Mine, having had a head start, stayed pretty much out in front on account of their size. Being a 32D at the age of 13 is not the blessing you may think it is, although my boobs did get me noticed by boys, which of course just added to the torment I received from my peer group. I was still in my first year of secondary school when someone first came up with the nickname, Morag McNipples (it being a supposedly clever play on my actual surname), and it was to follow me throughout my school days.

Of course, the only people who ever saw me naked in those days were the same sneering classmates in the showers and changing rooms after PE at school, and , of course, “The Girl”.

The change in my attitude to myself came, quite naturally I guess, as I began to become sexually active. The first time I got naked in front of a guy was nervewracking, but in actual fact, I guess I needn’t have worried; I don’t think he actually took his eyes off my boobs the whole time after my bra came off. We didn’t have sex that time, but we did spend ages lying naked together, exploring each other with out fingers and, I think, during the course of the afternoon, he had complimented every inch of me (but my boobs were definitely his favourite bits).

Allowing men, and women to see me naked taught me to look at my body in a different light. I was (and still am) to a certain extent slightly self-concious about my ladybumps, but I have come to love them almost as much as any other part of me.

Going abroad on holiday in my early teens was always a bit traumatic. My mum has (and possibly still does for all I know) never had any issue with sunbathing topless. She even refused to cover up when her offspring were going through that awkward stage. I was 15 when I first decided to brave discarding my bikini top. I was quite envious of all these other women (my mum excepted) being brave enough to bare their boobs and enjoy the freedom of the sun and the sea on their skin.

My sister (who is almost two years older than me) and I decided to leave the family group and set off further along the beach. Once we were certain we were far enough to be out of view, and with a lot of nervous giggling and a few false starts, we eventually plucked up the courage to discard our tops. I think I was slightly disappointed at the lack of any reaction when there I was, my boobs out in public for the first time, and no one paid a damned bit of notice. Of course, what were two (or four if you count my sister’s) more boobs on a beach where you could see countless pairs of them in any direction?

Going swimming topless for the first time was exhilarating. The contrast of the heat of the sun and the coolness of the water made my nipples stand out, and feeling the waves splash against them sent almost orgasmic like shivers through them.

Except for those parts of the world where it’s required, I’ve never worn a bikini top abroad since, although it took a couple of further holidays before I was comfortable getting them out with my mum and dad present.

Nude sunbathing was something I tried for the first time when I went on an all girls holiday just after finishing school. If you’ve ever been to the Greek Island of Corfu, you may know that on the northwest corner there is a lovely beach just to the north of the village of Arillas. The beach, set against the backdrop of imposing clay cliffs has some of the clearest blue waters off any of the Greek islands. It is also a beach where not only is nudism tolerated, it is, as we discovered, almost expected. Being already completely comfortable with being topless, and seeing all the carefree nudity around me, it didn’t require much persuasion for me to go the whole way and discard the bottoms too.

The thing I discovered very quickly is that nudity, when it is all around, is not sexy nor is it arousing, it is simply nudity. I saw bodies of all shapes, colours, ages and sizes and no one seemed to be either attracted or repulsed by it; it was simply perfectly acceptable. It was also, I discovered, a hell of a lot more comfortable than having soggy, hot, uncomfortable bikini bottoms clinging to you after you’d been for a swim too.

For me, I think, despite never really having any serious body images, that week of just lying in the sun with other naked people lying all around me, just going about and minding their own business, transformed the way I thought about my body and myself. It certainly taught me that I needn’t have hang-ups displaying it and, if a guy was willing to get naked for me, there wasn’t any reason why I should worry about getting naked for him.

I am not a naturist or nudist by any means, but I do admit to enjoying being naked outdoors and, when I go abroad, I do try to ensure that there is the opportunity to sunbathe nude. Not because I want to show off my body, because in all honesty, the only person that will probably even be looking at it is Master C and he sees it every day, but because I enjoy the freedom and the comfort.

As for hang-ups about my boobs, they are mostly relegated to the past, although I still think my bum is cuter.

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