Reflecting Pool.

On Monday I returned from a week in the amazing city of Douala, Cameroon and I fell in Love.
I am definitely one to miss everything and everyone that I hold dear in England but this time something felt different. 5 days in, I was asked whether I was ready to go home and my answer was an immediate "No". I had hardly even thought about anything outside of the task in hand and I felt very good for it.

I have been to Africa before (Ghana) and honestly had no idea that I would return to the continent and not want to leave.
The previous times that I had visited I was under the control of my parents and the trips were mostly about reconnecting with family. This time, though, it was all about business.
I was a grown up woman, in frickin Africa, working in a semi-glamorous capacity and I often found myself hypothesising about what my life could/would be if this was my permanent place of residence.
After a series of amazing experiences and successful meetings it looks like the possibility of visiting on a more regular basis could become my reality and I am humbled and grateful.

I have come back with a new energy, a stronger desire and feeling very blessed. I am in a very positive space and I realise just how trivial some of the things that I allow to trouble my spirit are.
If something or someone isn't able to contribute to my happiness then why exactly am I allowing them my time or energy? I either have to limit it or eliminate them.

Africa = A-Mazing. Frikin amazing.

I will take some time over the weekend to post up some pictures and narrative about our (I went with the beautiful Nadine Charles) time there.

Natx

I wonder...

... are you still connected to me?

Words

Eyes scan curiously but I am unsure exactly what they seek.
Amusement and intrigue metered out equally.
My observations are not sprinkled with the negative but words and actions do contradict.
No denying it.
Self-imposed rules forgotten as I remember words uttered in what seems like a past life.
I am looking for the message but wish you would just tell me.
Usually discomfort plagues when my story is spoken through another’s lips but this time was different.
Eye contact consistent.
I wonder if fear imprisons the words of desire that are mixed with indecision?
I never want you to search for what you think I want to hear.
Goodness knows that I have endured more than my fair share of this, at the mouths of men wanting to impress.
I just want you to open up and…
Speak to me.
Please.

Fairy tales.

When she stopped trying to be all that he needed.
She looked around.
Put her ear to the ground and waited for the echo.
There was none.
The sound of missed time was replaced by his laughter with others.
His journey to fill the "she shaped" gaps was clearly fruitful.
She asked herself over and over again.
"Why do I want to share so much of my life with a man who would easily, maybe preferably share his with others"
He was her reflex.
When she heard about something he would enjoy, she would suggest attendance.
When she wanted quiet time, his was the energy she leaned towards.
Family events, friends parties.
Tables turned and he lived a life without her.
Pictures that reaffirmed her absence.
She tried to hold onto those empty images to make her strong enough to walk away but she missed him too much, kept reaching for something she'd never touch. Love merged into Lust and back.
Ipod on repeat, the same two tracks.
He assumed she always spoke her mind but could not begin to fathom just how much silence she carried around with her.
Secrets he would never openly tell her.
So she looked for them in his semi dilated pupils.
She would never call him a liar but knew he lived a life he would forever keep from her.
So she muted her heartbreak, dusted of her grazed knees and carried on.
Tucking pain in her back pocket, walking tall and being strong.

Natalie Fiawoo ® Blogging on the go...

Fetish?

So, something that was said to me this week has me thinking...
When does the line of preference tip over into the land of fetish?

For those of you that have seen what I look like, you will already know that I am a plus size. Some may even secretly think me fat or some may just see “curvy”, either way, it is what I am.

Now obviously, a man who is appreciative of my lumps and bumps is clearly a desirable as it means that he will not look longingly at those of a slimmer, smaller disposition whilst simultaneously trying to slip, not Rohypnol but diet pills into my banana and chocolate milkshake. As is a man who has never tried a bigger sized girl but realises, upon further exploration, that he actually enjoyed a supersized, well, everything really.

But...

When does that preference stop being a preference and become some kind of obsession?
Isn’t a man, who seeks out women with that all important “bubbly personality”, the same as a man who seeks out large breasts or a big arse or a woman with piercings or tattoos? And don’t we criticise those men for objectifying women?

When does a preference become a necessity and possibly a perversion?

I wonder if there is something wrong with me for feeling slightly uncomfortable with a man that doesn’t simply appreciate the type of woman that looks like me but makes it his mission to seek out these women. To me, it feels like it is all about the sexual gratification and lust. Which is definitely ok, if that’s all you are both looking for.

But, would that be the correct kind of grounding for strong, long term relationship? What if I suddenly lost a lot of weight? Would result in him no longer being attracted to me?

I have always maintained that while I do want a man to enjoy the way that I look, I would prefer him to be turned on by the wonders of my mind and the open-ness of my heart.
I feel like that kind of attraction is what breeds longer lasting love which goes beyond the outer and creates a bond and connection that becomes much harder to break as a result of the fickle.

Thoughts?