Show me yours: part two

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Show me yours: part two

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It's a concept most can grasp -- pretty obviously, I'm sexually attracted to my husband, but it does not follow that every straight woman out there will also be.

That's such an easy one, most people can just say, "Oh hey, yeah, I see what you're saying. I guess all I'm trying to say is that anyone confused, and who might apply that to you, still has you firmly corralled in a specific from of Tupperware, complete with a very limiting label and beyond that, has all the other lesbians of the world in that same Tupperware container with you, already.

Perhaps anything that makes them peak under that lid is a good thing. To begin to understand the very broad spectrum that exists in being gay or a lesbian, just as there is a very broad spectrum in what it means to be straight.

Jo - Sorry for the double comment, Jo. Rather than try to edit, I figured it was better to just risk being overly wordy. What a lovely, funny, compassionate post.

Sex reassignments are difficult for the person as well as their friends and family. And when you are a 'celebrity', it must be very hard under the spotlight.

Josie, I must confessed that I'm pleased your father was able to resolve your confusion. Somehow I just can't picture you as a Joe. Charles, yes, she was a pretty girl, wasn't she?

But I guess she feels better now. I think -- from what I understand -- that a person's sexual identity and their gender identity are actually two completely different things.

I don't quite understand it, because I am a female, and I feel like a female, and I am "straight". I once saw a documentary about a gay woman who became a man, and then became a gay man.

Confused yet? Bonnie, yes, it must be very difficult to girl bith to a girl, and raise her as a girl, and then she becomes a male.

Or vice versa. It takes a lot of love and understanding. Tom, I will never forget how hard my father laughed - and for a very long time.

That's my understanding too, Jo. Gender identity and sexual identity are separate issues. I'm sorry if I wasn't clear on that.

I was approaching it solely from the "Would this be confusing for other people? Alane, I think it's good that people are talking about it, and are becoming accepting of it.

Everyone is different, and there is no "cookie-cutter" stamp for any of us, is there? We have to learn to accept and even embrace the differences.

Talking about it helps to enlighten some folks, hopefully at least. A really intresting post as usual : My friends have always maintained that I was a lesbian born into a man's body You had the most wonderful father ever!

No wonder you are such a well-balanced soul. I never wanted to be male but did envy the convenience of the male equipment, which was displayed by my next-door neighbor when we were about 5.

I wondered what all the fuss was about: No one should have to endure a lifetime of feeling like a misfit in such an all-important area as gender.

But it's hard to imagine the thought processes which would bring someone to that conclusion without having experienced it. I wonder why we all can't just be who we are.

Maybe there was meant to be such a human as one who is one gender in body and another in spirit? Why must the two match? In any case, you can live as you feel and who the heck cares what or who others think you are.

I guess I don't understand why changing the physical body is necessary - it's only a very superficial and temporary shell anyway.

I guess I was just born in the wrong neighborhood I went around my neighborhood soliciting every girl I could to swap 'peeks'.

I had a pathetic box score no pun intended. Finally, one girl was willing to go behind a cedar tree and swap peeks. One mind you! But I will say this, when I scored I scored big because it was the Presbyterian preacher's daughter who lived next door.

I guess that's something. Alan G. Post a Comment. If You Show Me Yours. One of my first memories when I was a little girl was the discovery that my two brothers had been furnished with an extra part of their anatomies that I did not have.

It puzzled me, and I didn't think it was fair. I felt cheated. I went around to all the little boys in the neighborhood, asking them if they had one, and could I please see it.

They all had one, and they were extremely proud of them, and very happy to show them to me. I was so angry at not being able to do what they were doing, I went home and told my mother.

She made me sit on the chesterfield for the rest of the afternoon with the dreaded words, "Stay there until your father gets home!

When my father finally got home, he laughed for quite a long time, and then he had a little chat with me. I don't remember exactly what he said, but he quietly explained to me why little boys have that "extra bit", and little girls don't, and whatever he said, I was happy.

From that day on I was glad to be a girl, and I felt girls were somehow special and mysterious. Boys really were "snakes and snails and puppy dog's tails" and little girls were "cinnamon and spice and everything nice".

I love being a woman. All her life, instead of feeling like a female, she has felt that she is really a male. She has recently undergone sex change orientation so her physical body will be in alignment with how she feels inside.

I should refer to her as him, because he is now male. It occurred to me how difficult it must be to be born as one gender, but to know in your heart that you are actually the other gender.

How on earth does that happen? I think, also, it must be more common than we realize. I believe most people have identity issues of some sort or another.

To see oursels as ithers see us! It's frustrating and sometimes hurtful when people treat us differently than we are. It's as if they don't see us.

They have pre-judgement -- or prejudice -- based on how we look. I just need something to go on. You understand, right?

He did, but… A curve of crimson, like a splash of wine. I'll keep it occupied, but you must not look back. Sorry I never had a chance to say.

I came because-" he swallowed, his head swimming in smoke. Ruby crumpled, a defeated expression wilting the corners of her eyes.

I hope I hope you at least know that. But it wasn't the first thing on his mind at all. The second day on the ship saw Ruby in the gym, practicing with Crescent Rose.

A bead of sweat trailed Ruby's lips as she turned to greet him. No, just Isn't much to do around here. There would be if you'd agree to sit down and share.

Instead, she relaxed and timidly beckoned him towards her. Y'know, practice for before we starting fighting Grimm. Still, Jaune was mortified.

As he unfolded his shield, saddling it to his elbow, Ruby approached. You said I had a lot of it. In time. Who's the mentor here? Up and at 'em!

No groaning, either! I think I'd rather let the Grimm take me. I know it's unusual. But I just don't. No problem!

He told himself the pity didn't sting. A pause. Then- "You do what? She pursed her lips, brushing aside a strand of hair rimmed red.

And quite suddenly, but for a shower of roses, Jaune was looking at nothing. I didn't even see you move.

Behind him, Ruby swept his feet from under, his head crashing to the floor as he grimaced. He rolled hastily, metal shredding the air he once occupied.

The Nuckela-" "It was her," he swallowed, his body pervaded by a shuddering breath. She-" His eyes squeezed shut as he cut short.

As so many times before, the words would not come to her. I just want this to I want it over. A mote of comfort, inspiration, anything useful , but- He could only follow.

Not for the fight. Never for the fight, but her timidity could only hold her back so much. Without facing him, she spoke.

You have to keep rational during combat. Threads of gold woven in. If they smell even a pinprick of your fear…" " Then…?

It cast a shadow and they lived in it. The white splinters it called teeth broke wide, accompanied by an incessant clicking. For the Nuckelavee is composed of death.

Author's Note: Poor Ruby. I'd be a little pissed at Jaune too. Part 3 is pending! I'd love to know what you thought. Show me yours, Part One 2.

Show me yours, Part Two 3. Show me yours, Part Three 4. Show me yours, Part Four 5. Show me yours, Part Five 6.

By Blood, Part One 7. By Blood, Part Two 8. The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.

Actions Add to Community Report Abuse. If you don't I left it below for you. Great story! Cue songs about memories- you have a way with posts.

Post a Comment. When I was about six or seven, I walked home from school most everyday by myself. Sometimes kids would walk with me part of the way, and on one occasion, a boy I didn't know, who was 2 years older than I, fell in beside me on the 12 block trek.

Just before we got to my street, he said: "You show me yours and I'll show you mine". I had been forewarned by my mom not to fall for this trick, so I said to him: " You go first".

He unzipped his pants and showed me his wares - and I ran off home. He tried to follow me, but his pants fell down around his ankles and he gave up.

Can you just imagine how good I felt at outwitting him? I told my mom about it and she was livid, and wanted to find him and tell his parents. But we never figured out who he was or where he lived.

I didn't see this guy again until I was sixteen.

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Show Me Yours: Part Two Video

\ They feed off of each other in people. I mean, uh, discuss this topic more at, uh, length Not literally, but investment wise. I looked over at Brooke who was on the mat next to Seniors dating website. And the only real lesbians look like Portia Men in suits fucking Rossi? The author would like to thank you for your continued support.

Sighing, she bent her knees, affording tension to her shoulders, pushing her toes into the floor so her heels curved up. A finger tapped his shoulder, causing him to yelp.

Swiveling, he took in the sight of Ruby waving demurely at him. And in one blistering second, her eyes were inches from his, and he stumbled, nearly toppling as a curved blade arced towards him.

The angle from which it swung was picturesque; it was a thing of beauty. He just barely intercepted it with the hilt of his sword on instinct alone.

Before his moments of comprehension could keep pace, the pressure lifted, the blade was gone, and his vision filled with rose petals.

She poised Crescent Rose above him, its curvature catching the light — seeming to wink, seeming to grin — before plunging it down.

Leaping to his feet, lips set in half-formed determination, he charged and let loose a flurry of strikes. One from top corner to bottom; Ruby easily parried it aside.

One, a horizontal slice — her feet were a blur as she took two steps back and let it careen harmlessly in front — and, twirling his wrist, his sword now gripped in reverse, he stabbed towards her chest.

Her legs were folded levers for a moment. Then she somersaulted over his head — he swore he felt her cloak tickle his matted hair — a veritable curl of red.

Next thing he knew, Jaune felt pointed steel digging gently into the hollow of his throat. Behind him, Ruby loosely held her scythe's handle in one idle hand, the blade of it bending around the junction between his neck and shoulder in a half-moon.

I told you, I'm as average as they come. Ruby stretched one lingering arm towards him as he lumbered towards the door, but did not - could not, even as nails sunk into her palm and beads of red pebbled - pursue.

By day three, the ship landed. The two of them quietly stepped from the extended ramp onto solid ground.

Ruby took a quick, familiar glance at her surroundings. Dense, thick foliage nearly blotted out what little light cast from overhead.

Trees clutched greedily at the small breeze, sifting across branches and curling leaves. They were in a small clearing, and Ruby spoke to Jaune for the first time since the day before in the makeshift gym.

If we can't sneak past before engaging the Nuckelavee, we're dead for sure. If we're lucky, we won't be noticed. Ruby looked at him.

They were in closer proximity than they'd been until now, excluding their sparring session. It was now that Jaune noticed the dark circles swimming just under her eyelids.

The deep, seated exhaustion pronouncing itself; what would have been liquid silver now drooped into a listless gray. But she had already marched towards the forest wall, her steps unfettered.

Her gait that of a woman steadfastly resigned to her mission. And Jaune wanted more from himself. He wanted to reach - screaming blood all the while if need be - inside and pull something out of his wretched depths.

A mote of comfort, inspiration, anything useful , but-. It was when they'd walked for hours, shaded by trees, mottled sunlight weakly breaking through both sky and wood - their shoulders brushing cliffrock, their feet soldered by gravel - that Ruby's resolve splintered.

Hair oil-slick with sweat, moist heat beating down like the weight of the world, Jaune nearly tripped from the surprise.

Jaune, jaw slack, shirt matted and skin-clung, could hardly stutter a word in edgewise before Ruby pressed on. Her mouth was parch-dry, lips cracked, nose wrinkled but flared.

Asking you to risk yours. Risking the continued welfare of Vale on this stupid, fruitless venture, and you can't have the common decency to get over yourself for two minutes and give us the smallest of fighting chances?

With every word, her pitch rose, hysterical. Her voice had sharpened like liquid, bloody like something knife-seared until she was near-screeching.

I of all people. But no one's had it easy! Not a single god-forsaken person has come out of this endless fit against those monsters intact.

You're not special, I'm not special, everyone's lost so much they've got nothing in them but bones and dust where their heart should be!

Jaune stood, rooted, paralyzed, encumbered with sweat and disheveled hair and the gravity of a thousand unshed tears. I can tell you mine.

Jaune dimly noticed the bitter irony of her verbal repetition. A discussion, from Semblance to death. It was years before anyone else. He just left on a hunt one day and never came back.

My mother. She was there when the Grimm tore down our roof, and shrieked herself bloody for us to get away. My dad when he couldn't bear to lose his wife for a second time, told us to go on when he turned around to go back to his own death.

My sister, when the Grimm caught up to us as we were running. She hid me under the knot of a dead tree, telling me not to come up for anything or anyone.

She was so brave, but that didn't make a difference when they ripped her limb from limb. I was a blubbering child who couldn't even watch. I couldn't block out the sound, though.

Can't block it out even now, most nights. Huntsmen can only call themselves such if they can maintain a certain standard of level-headedness at all times.

No matter the hunt, no matter the tragedy. Whatever had seized her was mounting, boiling, fringing off of the abyss of Grimm below them when they were docked, off the abyss of grim churning in her most pungent and twisted of depths.

Her heart of hearts, closed in by rose petals so red they were black. I hope he's happy, having found his true self. Cedar, you put into words exactly what I was thinking.

It's all very confusing. I read somewhere that because Chaz has gone through a sex change operation, that he was never a lesbian at all.

And of course her partner would now be with a man. It's very confusing to me. Firefly, Omigawd! Just what women need to equalize the sexes.

I had never heard of that. I sure could have used one, all those years I went camping. You had an opportunity to find our first-hand how people like that feel trapped in their bodies.

There is no denying how they feel, is there!? Alane, I did a post earlier about Helen and Doug. Helen's operation was a transgender operation, and she was in anguish because the operation went terribly wrong.

All her life she had been trapped in the wrong body, and everyone else knew it as well. She wasn't just a tomboy, she was a boy.

There is no denying how those folks feel, and I think Chaz has really raised the awareness. I've met a few folks with this issue and it's clearly in most cases a biological phenomenon.

Chaz sure was better looking as a girl, though. Cedar Wow, what a fascinating question, and one that wouldn't have occurred to me in quite that way.

I can tell you what I thought, as a straight woman, when I heard about Chaz and everything he's been through in finding his true gender identity, I just assumed that at one point when he realized, "I'm exclusively sexually attracted towards women.

I guess that's what it comes down to. When I think about people, gay or straight, that's the first identifying label, you know? Person who is straight.

Person who is gay. Person being the operative part in any statement. Some people are straight, some are gay, still other people are transgendered, and the answers for each of us are very individual.

That we aren't talking about universal truths, but rather personal ones. I never thought about Chaz Bono as being indicative of anything other than the life of Chaz Bono.

HIs path, journey, was his own. I think you raise a very interesting question simply because most people, when confronted with anything outside of their personal sphere, do tend to approach understanding beginning with generalizations.

I'm not saying this well, so please forgive me, but I do think the point you raise is interesting. The people who might be confused by Chaz Bono's story, are confused with or without it, because they are still in the broad, all encompassing label stage.

I think people move beyond that when actually trying to understand other people. I think most are capable of understanding that just as what I do has no bearing on the definition of what it means to be straight for the straight people of the world, my relationship history doesn't provide information on "The straight people of the world do this I think that anyone who believes that Chaz Bono's very personal story says anything about lesbians, very feminine or masculine, is still thinking primarily in definitive labels.

Oddly enough I watched Milk just the other day, and was really struck by the scene where he encourages gay men to come out of the closet, to let friends, family, coworkers and neighbors know, "I am gay.

This is who I am. It's a concept most can grasp -- pretty obviously, I'm sexually attracted to my husband, but it does not follow that every straight woman out there will also be.

That's such an easy one, most people can just say, "Oh hey, yeah, I see what you're saying. I guess all I'm trying to say is that anyone confused, and who might apply that to you, still has you firmly corralled in a specific from of Tupperware, complete with a very limiting label and beyond that, has all the other lesbians of the world in that same Tupperware container with you, already.

Perhaps anything that makes them peak under that lid is a good thing. To begin to understand the very broad spectrum that exists in being gay or a lesbian, just as there is a very broad spectrum in what it means to be straight.

Jo - Sorry for the double comment, Jo. Rather than try to edit, I figured it was better to just risk being overly wordy.

What a lovely, funny, compassionate post. Sex reassignments are difficult for the person as well as their friends and family. And when you are a 'celebrity', it must be very hard under the spotlight.

Josie, I must confessed that I'm pleased your father was able to resolve your confusion. Somehow I just can't picture you as a Joe.

Charles, yes, she was a pretty girl, wasn't she? But I guess she feels better now. I think -- from what I understand -- that a person's sexual identity and their gender identity are actually two completely different things.

I don't quite understand it, because I am a female, and I feel like a female, and I am "straight".

I once saw a documentary about a gay woman who became a man, and then became a gay man. Confused yet? Bonnie, yes, it must be very difficult to girl bith to a girl, and raise her as a girl, and then she becomes a male.

Or vice versa. It takes a lot of love and understanding. Tom, I will never forget how hard my father laughed - and for a very long time.

That's my understanding too, Jo. Gender identity and sexual identity are separate issues. I'm sorry if I wasn't clear on that.

I was approaching it solely from the "Would this be confusing for other people? Alane, I think it's good that people are talking about it, and are becoming accepting of it.

Everyone is different, and there is no "cookie-cutter" stamp for any of us, is there? We have to learn to accept and even embrace the differences.

Talking about it helps to enlighten some folks, hopefully at least. A really intresting post as usual : My friends have always maintained that I was a lesbian born into a man's body You had the most wonderful father ever!

No wonder you are such a well-balanced soul. I never wanted to be male but did envy the convenience of the male equipment, which was displayed by my next-door neighbor when we were about 5.

I wondered what all the fuss was about: No one should have to endure a lifetime of feeling like a misfit in such an all-important area as gender. But it's hard to imagine the thought processes which would bring someone to that conclusion without having experienced it.

We scooted closer to each other. I threw my blanket over her and we reveled at the creation of our own little bubble, protected from the outside world by Superman and cotton.

Underneath the threads, we played a little game you might recognize called "I'll show you mine if you show me yours.

That day I learned something that, as an adult, I still find to be one of the universe's undisputable truths: vaginas are weird.

I had no idea what was wrong with this girl. Where was her pee-pee? I looked down at my own eleventh finger to make sure I had the correct reference for what I was supposed to be seeing.

Finding that everything was intact down on my crotch, I looked back at hers. I poked it a couple times like one would poke a steak to see if it is cooked completely.

Baffled, I asked how she peed out of that thing. Just as she was about to answer, the blanket was yanked from over top of us. Our bubble had been popped.

Superman was defeated by my teacher, Mrs. Washburn, who was aghast at what she discovered. We were made to stand in separate corners of the room facing the wall while our parents were called.

As I stood there wondering what I had done wrong, another one of those undisputable truths came to me: vaginas are trouble.

My mom picked me up from school that afternoon and had a talk with my teacher. That night at home she told my dad what had happened.

He kept a serious face but I'm positive I heard him quietly say to himself, "That's my boy. I'm happy they got a laugh out of it. I was traumatized for years, fearing the repercussions if I ever got that close to another girl's no-touch zone.

I now know that these balloons were a congratulations gift from my dad.

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2 thoughts on “Show me yours: part two”

  1. Es ist schade, dass ich mich jetzt nicht aussprechen kann - ist erzwungen, wegzugehen. Ich werde befreit werden - unbedingt werde ich die Meinung aussprechen.

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