Burlesque

I have never been in dance, nor ever plan too. But there is something about its silence that keeps me so intrigued. Being a storyteller my whole life, and more recently, a writer, I tend to exaggerate a lot of things in my everyday life. Perhaps that’s why the over the top movements caught my eye, and not the noise. Sure the music is just as tempting, but this movement is not something your average Joe can pull off. Unless he has a deep, inner sex kitten waiting to pounce out of him…however, I’m guessing more often then not, that is a no. Because, lets face it, women are sexy beings. Men, what’s not to like? We have flowing, touchable hair, piercing eyes, with flirtatious lashes, seductive grins with kissable lips. We smell good enough to eat, yet we’re always just out of reach. The curve of our body makes for an outstanding silhouette and our poses are outright seductive at least. We give you glimpses of our chest, appealing to your imagination and tell you no, when our body language is screaming yes !
If you’ve even managed to get your eyes past all that, you will come to our outstandingly long, toned legs. With skin just kissed by the sun, it looks like it would melt to even the slightest of your touch. Not to mention all the confidence we portray to you. It's as if we know what makes you crumble to your knees.

It is that very confidence about burlesque dancing that gives me the chills. It’s tempting, and if I could buy it in a bottle I would have no room in my drawer for leggings. I would give all the fake eyelashes in the world to see what it felt like to be up on that stage. I bet its both exhilarating and addictive. I would have the freedom to buy as much makeup as I want, and use it. I could buy the hottest outfits and parade around in them without a care. I would also buy killer high heels in which to do the parading in. The dancing alone would account for my workout, and the power of any mans wish would be on my fingertips. 

I blame it on my Scorpio sign that makes me give in to all this secretive sexiness. I hate how it suggests silence and movement may be the way to get who or what you want in the world. But hey, if all else fails, at least we’ll look good doing it… and for that I say, thank god for that. 

xx

 Photography by: Vicky Brassington

When it rains, it pours

I have an obsessive personality.

This isn’t the first time I have realized it, and although I’ve tried to deny it… it most certainly won’t be the last. Why, for as long as I can remember I have been easily influenced, persuaded or down right convinced on any subject someone is passionate to express to me. But for the past eight years, I have been my own worst enemy. It comes and goes. Perhaps for me, the most real thing in life is what I cant see. Whatever the case may be, whenever I come across something that is able to hold my attention for more than an hour, I become animalistic. Like something you see in Hoarders, I begin my research into a world I have not yet known will be the end of me. Books stack up in my room; I stay up late with only the glow of the computer screen as I dig deeper; until finally, it becomes all I think about.

In my new-found wisdom, I have discovered a pattern. But with my personality, I also have some reasoning behind my madness. Maybe it is my age of a young female that leads me to worship a strong female figure? Or maybe it’s my dreams creeping in to how I want to portray myself later in life, either way… it has become my present. I gawk over these women who have it all, yet at the end of the day, remain true to themselves. I envy them. But can’t look away. There I sit, glued, eyes as wide as they will go, sitting on the edge of my seat on my tippy-toes tempted to get closer. It makes me want to jump up and protest, change the world, or be the master temptress I know deep down is sitting in the same position as I am looking at you…

xx