How to Have Sex
I Like My Breasts How I Like My Sexuality
Messy, partially exposed, and extremely colorful
My breasts and my sex are intertwined. Not because either one is dependent on the other, but because the process of coming to know and appreciate them and their place in my life has looked very similar. These two journeys have taught me valuable lessons. They have taught me:
- I need sexual healing. *can’t help but sing this like Marvin Gaye*
- Sexual healing is an art.
- The art of sexual healing is messy, but it can be really fun.
Finding acceptance in the mess
I won’t compare coming out with my mortification of being made a woman. When I came out to my dad, he said he didn’t know his little girl anymore. When I came out of the birth canal, he said he didn’t know how to love a little girl. I guess he was right. He didn’t.
I’ve had to unlearn the sex-pectation of my childhood, which was very much non-existence. As in, my sexuality was supposed to be non-existent.
Everything that made me a girl, a woman, a lover, and everything that made me curious about my body was squashed. I was made at the pleasure of a man for the pleasure of a man until he gave me away on my wedding day to another man.
This was my mess. I have had to get messy unraveling this web of lies.
I’m not done, not even close. But I am other things.
I am healing.
I am bi.
I am a woman.
I am a human with breasts, a pussy, and other fabulous bits.
I am a being that knows itself.
I am for no one’s pleasure but my own.
If it weren’t for the mess, I wouldn’t be here. It may have been easier if I didn’t have to spend my life sifting through the rubble of a titanic wreck. I may have chosen an easier path if I had been given the choice, but I wasn’t given that choice.
Sexual healing begins with learning to accept my mess.
Finding confidence in exposure
Low-cut tops are my favorite. I don’t have voluptuous breasts that spill centrally into a crevice of supple cleavage. I have a gorgeous, wide-set frame that holds my breasts apart from one another so that my “cleavage” is a flat, deep V with two beautiful bellies that curve in on either side.
I don’t have perfect breasts, but I love to expose the tops and interior surfaces of their bellies with a plunging V. It makes me think of how I like to be bi.
Flaunting my bi-ness is not something I do often. Of course, I am proud. It has come to this: I love the surprise on people’s faces when I mention liking another woman or women I’ve dated. When I speak up for LGBTQ rights or tell a story that includes some of my experiences, I see it all too clearly:
People are surprised. I live in Texas. I am in a heteronormative relationship. In the eyes of the surprised is a question that they won’t ask out loud followed by a statement that stays silent between us.
You’re bi? You don’t look bi.
I walk around with my sexuality honored, uplifted, and partially exposed by a deep V for now. Partially exposed is subtle. It doesn’t clobber any skulls. It leaves room for honesty and conversation. It’s sexy.
I don’t feel the need to show my sexuality nips to anyone who doesn’t deserve my time, but I live to communicate. I’d like to think in this way I cause a greater stir. I try to be the best person I can be and also, I’m bi.
The more I explore and expose myself and my truth my way — sexually and otherwise — the more comfortable I am continuing to do it. Call it burnout prevention. Call it self-care. Call it falling in love with the plunging V.
Finding fluidity in color
This is the fun part. Openness, imagination, acceptance, kink, and loving who I love because I do. These are the colors of my sexuality. I paint with them as they are. I also mix them to make new colors. Together, they create the art that is my life.
The paint gets everywhere. It creates wide, opulent, oozing drops on my insides and my outsides, too.
I get into it. I pour, smear, stroke, drip, and dunk. My breasts become a rainbow that is reflected in my heart.
Who knew that having breasts and sexuality could be so much fun?
