Bodies never cease to amaze me. The variety of shapes, gaits and postures which reveal so much about our sexuality and sensuality.
Loose hips vs tight, hunched over to not take up too much space vs proud and regal, loose and comfortable vs stiff… All this translates to sex.

Here I am in Maui for a week with my young son. I’ve been here many dozens of times over the past 20 years. One of my closest friends lives here.
The first place I go, after renting my jalopy (to blend in and avert beach break-ins) is my favorite beach. There’s a semi-sheltered cove frequented predominantly by locals. Mostly moms with young children. Lucky children. Very different than my childhood in Paris. My son frolics joyfully here for hours, amid the giant prehistoric looking turtles that come and rest on the beach.
Children, turtles, turquoise water, blue sky: the new and the old, heaven for the eyes and senses.

And bodies. All kinds of bodies. Tanned, muscular, tattooed bodies of seemingly professional beach worshippers. Obese female bodies where the bikini bottom disappears under the folds of her huge belly. But she’s here, in a bikini, not hiding, enjoying herself with her family.
There’s the bony breast implanted body paired with the lean muscular mini Speedo sporting guy (known as a “banana hammock”). Likes attract. And she knows there’s an unspoken physical standard she has to uphold to keep her position by his side. But maybe she thinks that’s what she brings to the table.
There’s the sturdy mama whose 1 yr old keiki is climbing on her like a jungle gym. She seems unperturbed as she lays on her belly, reading a book.
And there’s the occasional sunburned tourist body, walking by, taking in the whole environment, getting their bearings. Maybe they’re from Kansas or someplace remote in every sense.
There’s the pretty blonde hippy mama with her gorgeous blonde beach kids, and the adonis partner. No wedding bands. I notice these things. I wonder how long their commitment will survive. It’s easy to be in love in paradise.
And the teenage girls struggling to ignore their self-consciousness by moving in pairs.

Men have the luxury of mostly being on automatic pilot regarding their bodies. They just inhabit them. Women on the other hand, assuming a heterosexual model, are constantly being judged for their bodies. Men assess them for how fuckable they are. Sorry but it’s true.
And women assess them as competition for resources. In other words, they size each other up as potential rivalry for the men.
So women’s bodies are constantly being judged.
And add to that self judgement. It’s tiring and tedious.

Bodies never cease to amaze me. How people carry themselves, how their bodies move, the degree of self love they might reveal. And how all this impacts how people show up sexually. That’s my lens on the world. People tell you about themselves, more than they know.
You can’t assume that because one fits the cultural standard of beauty one is fully expressed and uninhibited in bed. And vice versa.
How bodies evolve over time. And how our feelings about our bodies evolve over time. I’ve always said that self-acceptance correlates with age, which is handy as your ass is sliding down the back of your thighs.
Our bodies are where we live.

What has your journey with your body been like?

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