Catharsis

You know, I think blogging is how I deal with Mondays. I can think about the last few days and recap them, exploring as I go, and keep Monday at arm's length for a little longer. So, here I sit. Another Monday morning in my office. In front of me is a hot cup of chai (which I've already spilled once) and a wheat-flour blueberry muffin (so yummy!), from my new favorite hot beverage stop. They make hot chocolate with real melted chocolate bars and cream. You get one free on Saturdays if you show up in your jammies. Does it get better?

I think the wheat-flour blueberry muffin on Monday makes me feel better about the hot chocolate on Saturday. Welcome to my mental gymnastics.

But I digress....

Ranger and I had another glorious Friday together. It started in the afternoon. I'm restricted to working at my desk for six hours a day for another month (due to my recovery), so I'm off early in the afternoons. With nothing else to do on Friday, we started date night very early.

Ranger handed me my warm fleece pajama shorts and a t-shirt as I arrived at his place. Then, he sat me down at his laptop.

"We have pictures to look at," he said. "Fifty-two of them, to be exact."

"Fifty-two?" I asked, surprised. "When did you take that many?"

He chuckled. "A lot when you weren't looking," he said.

We spent time on each picture. I mentally flinched when each one came up. My eye is drawn to what I'd change about me. To the things I try to hide, and that hurt me when I see I didn't really hide them.

Ranger seemed to know that was happening. He'd start commenting immediately and reach in to point at the screen. "Oh, sweetie," he'd soothe. "Look how gorgeous you are in that!"

"Look how this lace lays so perfect on your skin."

"Look at the line from here to your waist. What a curve!"

"Look at that cute ass. I like how the laces from the back fall over you."

"Look at your thighs in those stockings."

Ranger is a thigh and ass man. Actually, he never been an ass man before me. Or so he says.

Yes, I could see what he saw. And it was doing battle with what I saw. I started to cry.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking at him through tears. "I'm trying so hard to let what you see replace what I see. But it's not happening immediately."

"I know," he said. "It'll take some time and maybe showing you these things again and again. But you just have to believe how beautiful you are to me."

"Please don't be discouraged or disappointed with me," I said. The last thing I want is to frustrate him or make him feel like I'm rejecting what he's trying to do for me.

"Never," he said. He kissed at my tears, then lay with me on the bed. Softly, he told me he knew what part of me I most disliked. And he was right. I despise my tummy. And talking about it makes me cry. But he has a very unique patience and understanding with my tears and my insecurities, like no one has ever had with me before.

He caressed me and told me what he loved. He told me why he didn't see the things that I thought of as my flaws. Suddenly, he stopped.

"Don't move," he said. "This is something I've wanted you to see, but you can't. And the light is just perfect now."

He grabbed the camera, talking softly the whole time. As if the sound of his voice would chase away the image he wanted to capture. "You have this cute peach fuzz at the small of your back," he said. "And the way the light is hitting yur backside right now just brings it out. You just have to see it."

The result is below. Pardon me posting a photo of my own ass, but I think it's a little more "artful" than just that. I couldn't believe it was an image of part of my body.. And for me, it's a very bold and telling step for me to be able to post this.