About party drop, Steve, and selfies
I didn’t have the usual post-party drop this time, not right after the fact, anyway. Because I got so sick immediately after I got home, I felt too lousy to think about much more than getting through it, and getting work done. But this week? Hello. It was waiting for me.
I know it’s a common phenomenon among party-goers, and we’re just kinky adult versions of little kids at Christmas. We get all wound up and excited for the event, fully immerse ourselves in it, and then when it’s over and reality sets back in, we feel cranky and weepy and let down. Some people don’t experience it; they simply move forward into anticipating the next event. For me, because it’s only twice a year, it feels like a huge gap of time where I’m missing out. FOMO. Thus the drop.
So I was very happy that Steve was coming over yesterday. We hadn’t seen each other in, what, five weeks? Six? I’d lost count. What with his illness (which lasted a long time), mine, plus 50 Freaks, plus his birthday ski trip, week after week went by where we had to skip our time together. Life happens… I was grateful that we’ve come so far in our relationship that a time-out like this didn’t endanger it. He’s still true to his word from nearly four years ago — he’s not going anywhere. And it was so good to welcome him back yesterday, and settle right back into our pattern. He didn’t bring his camera, though. And we didn’t bother to dig up my phone or his to take any shots afterward. But the spankings were lovely, even though I did have a coughing fit during one of them. Nothing puts a damper on a hot scene faster than the bottom wheezing like an old steam engine. But I drank some water, stuck a Ricola drop in my cheek and soldiered on.
Later last night, I took a look and was amazed to see some faint marking — I guess 50 Freaks really re-sensitized my skin! I wanted to get a picture or two, but my camera’s battery was dead. This is when I once again ran up against my complete inability to take a decent butt selfie in the mirror. (By the way, butt selfies are called “belfies.” Personally, I think something like buttfies or bummies would have been cuter. But whatever.)
How do these young whippersnappers with their iPhones take such damn good mirror shots? Granted, their camera phones are much better than mine. My phone’s camera is pretty decent when taking pictures the normal way, but when I switch it to selfie mode, the quality diminishes greatly, with lousy resolution. And for another thing, I lack the manual dexterity to snake my arm and fingers into position and hold steady to do a one-handed shot while striking a pose. But last night, I was determined. So I practiced, and practiced some more. I felt like the lost, older Kardashian aunt or something, wasting my time with all these stupid selfies that I ended up deleting. However, I saved a couple that almost captured what I wanted. Almost. Sorta.
I did like the front and back effect of this one.
And while this one is cut off, I liked the effect of my lips and hair off in the corner.
Oh well. By the time I’d finished with all this nonsense, my camera’s battery was charged and I was able to capture a clearer image.
See those itty bitty marks? I wonder if those were actually remnants of the ones from last week, brought to the surface again.
Anyway. This exercise in vanity was brought to you by a boring Hump Day. 🙂 Off to the gym with me.