I rise

I’m not one of those people who are affected by a stranger’s death. In truth,  I’ve always found it a little bit silly. That is, until today. There are going to be many people more intelligent and well spoken than I putting together their thoughts on the loss of Maya Angelou. In 86 years even the most average person is bound to inspire a few people but this was no average person, this was a phenomenal woman.

Born a black girl in the American south during the end of the 1920’s it comes as no surprise that she did not lead an easy life. Her experience with racism had a major and long lasting impact on her later work. Her parents separated when she was only four years old and consequently she was sent to live with her grandparents. When Maya was 8 years old she was suddenly picked up by her father and reunited with her mother. Her mother’s boyfriend raped her and she did the “right thing” by telling her family. He served one day in jail. However, only 4 days after his release the boyfriend was found murdered (probably by her uncles). Dr. Angelou felt her words had caused his death and was deeply wounded. She refused to speak for almost 5 years. She was returned to her grandmother after his death and thankfully a family friend was eventually able to coax words out of her once again.

So much of Maya Angelou’s story is all too familiar these days. She was a single teenage mother. She was married and then divorced three years later. She struggled with racism, lack of education and resulting poverty. It is only when we put the story in context with years that we can even begin to grasp the reality of her situation. Her son was born in 1945. She was divorced in 1951. Her lifestyle was not acceptable and yet she lived it unapologetically. She lived it with grace and strength that is still an inspiration decades later.

While the internet celebrates Maya Angelou’s contributions to society with cliched quotes, stories of her activism and the ‘liking’ of Facebook statuses I am choosing to celebrate the things that we too often sweep under the rug – the very things that drew me to her story and made me feel so connected to her. This woman inspired me to be who I am today not because of her relationships with Malcolm X or Martin Luther King Jr or Nelson Mandela but through her relationship with herself. She loved herself with so much passion that one could not help but be swept in to that feeling and translate it in to something for themselves. She did what she had to do to make her life and that of her son’s the best she could and she was proud of it (rightfully so). She was the first black street car operator and that’s amazing but she was also a pimp and a prostitute. She took care of her son on her own for many years but she was also a calypso dancer in nightclubs and toured across Europe with Porgy and Bess. She didn’t let the oppression of societal norms take away from who she was and what she wanted to be. She stayed true to herself in a time that made being a young black woman hard enough without all of her additional circumstances and that is something we can all learn from.

I wish I had more to say. With the emotions swirling inside of me I feel like the least I can do is provide some sort of deep insight. I should be able to sum up all of my feelings surrounding her loss and her life and her journey in to a clever and humorous package. The truth is, I don’t have the words right now. Today the world lost one of the few people that were able to voice the pain of so many with such beauty and simplicity. I was lucky to have run across her work as a young teen and it sticks with me to this day. As I have faced various challenges in my own life I have found myself drawn to different parts of her work that I mistakenly thought was familiar to me already and I suspect I always will. Her voice may be gone but her words will live forever within any of us who have ever felt pain, sorrow, longing, passion or joy so profound it doesn’t seem possible. I’ll leave you with my two favorite poems because choosing one was just too difficult. If you haven’t had the pleasure of reading her work before I suggest you do a quick search – I promise it’s worth the time.


Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman

Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.


3 weeks

I’m three weeks out from my first bikini fitness competition. I won’t lie – it is getting really tough. The diet is tough. The mood swings are tough. The posing is tough. The working out is tough. It’s tough.

I’m not keeping up with this blog and I’m really sorry. I’ll try to be better but I’ll probably fail. I know you understand…

So let’s take a break from all the sex talk and discuss my other favourite topic – fitness. Depending on how you came across this site, you might know a bit about my struggles with weight. I’ll go in to that another day as it’s personal and I’m not quite ready to divulge my real life yet. I started getting ready to compete less than six months ago but I have been making lifestyle changes for about a year. I started with just working out and it went downhill from there.

I get a lot of questions on diet and I wish I had a good answer but I don’t. I ate pretty badly until 2 months ago when I got serious about this. I’m now on a very restrictive diet that I do not suggest to anyone. You don’t need it and it’s so hard to keep doing. I basically don’t eat carbs or any starchy vegetable (potatoes, corn, sweet potatoes, turnips etc), no fruit after noon, I only eat red meat once a week and the rest of time I have fish or chicken. I also just gave up dairy.

I do a lot of strength training. I lift, bro. Interesting fact – women who lift weights are hot. It is a misconception that lifting heavy weights cause women to get bulky, do I look bulky? Exactly. Don’t be afraid of weights but please make sure you’re using them correctly or you will get hurt. Bikini competitors are judged on boobs, butts and abs so that’s what I’m working on.

My biggest challenge right now is -drum roll please- turning around in a circle. Posing is so much harder than it should be for me. It’s turning around in a circle in tiny heels for Pete’s sake! I may or may not have started practicing any time I pass a reflective surface.

There are no real secrets. I can’t give you the name of a pill or powder that will give you results. I can’t name a miracle exercise or a fat burning food. You put the work in everyday and you hope it shows sooner rather than later. That’s it. Take it slowly so you don’t burn out. Set reachable goals, baby steps. You got this!

My first attempt at posing


My membership card with OPA


Another shot from behind



I’ve lived in Canada my entire life and, for the most part, I don’t complain about the weather. I do find it interesting how much our dress changes from winter to spring. The first few warm days I find myself staring at knees. Knees of all things! We are so bundled up for so long that, by the time nice weather hits, the smallest bit of skin makes animals out of us.


Where will your day lead?

Your eyes lock from across the bar. You should be embarrassed and look away  but something holds you there. Her eyes, so dark you can barely differentiate the iris from her pupils, speak of longing. They speak of lonely night and boundless passion. There is something wise in there too, an old soul in a young body. You mind wanders in to the inevitable – what would you do if you had just half a chance at a night with her? You feel the heat rise and finally you can resist no longer, you go over.

A look can lead to a touch.

Her lips twitch slightly as she sees you commit to walking over. The playful smirk lights up her face and something tells you that you won’t regret your boldness. She’s going to be fun. As you make the obligatory small talk you’re surprised to find she is so well spoken, so intelligent. She is fun to talk to but there is something deeper, a type of strength you admire in a woman. Surely, this must be the drink talking, nobody is this perfect. As you go to push your glass across to the bartender your hand accidentally brushes hers. It buzzes. Tingles. Fireworks. The heat starts to rise as you take a chance and slowly grasp her around the waist. You pull her closer until her heartbeat touches yours. Your breaths catch in your throats.

A touch can lead to a kiss

and what a kiss it is! Electricity flows through you, sparks fly and cliches run through your mind at a million miles an hour. As the passion builds she parts her luscious lips to make way for your exploring tongue. Hands begin to wander and become more and more desperate to find flesh. When they finally meet their mark you feel her body tense as goosebumps begin to emerge. How can such warm flesh react this way?

A kiss can lead to a lick

You  manage to break free from each other long enough for your mouth to find the nape of her neck. Just a little lick…nothing much… You can feel eyes turning towards you ad she lets out a little gasp. Then a moan. She is turning to putty in your hands and you barely remember her name. This just won’t do. She’s been yearning too long. She needs it to end and you silently promise that it will be tonight. You grab her hand and pull her towards the exit. If only you could find somewhere more — then you see the alley. Not the most private place in the world (or the most romantic) but it’ll do. You throw her against the wall as she begs you  take her. She screams how she wants you. You push her to her knees as she fumbles with your zipper.

A lick can lead to a suck

Her mouth feels so warm as it surrounds you cock. This isn’t her first time and she isn’t afraid to let you know it by going deep and hard. She not afraid to gag and bring up liters of that thick messy spit you love so much. It coats you completely as it runs down her face down to her firm, perky breasts. She’s no longer begging for it, content instead to just make you happy. ‘Good girl’ you think. You lean your head back on the rough bricks as she goes to town. There’s nowhere her tongue doesn’t explore as she takes you all in. This girl loves what she does and it shows. She goes faster and faster, using both her hands and paying close attention to your balls. This must be heaven. Suddenly, you remember the look in her eye and your promise and you know that, no matter how good it feels, you can’t leave her like that. You have to give her what she wants, what she needs.

A suck can lead to…

anything you want. You put your hand lightly on her throat, she gazes up at you. Those eyes. You lead her up from her knees and push her up against the wall. You’re rewarded with another angelic moan. “Do you still want it?” you ask as your fingers push in to her warm wet pussy. You find no resistance and smile as you realize she is not wearing panties. ‘Good girl’. She moans her consent and you push her a little rougher. She pushes out her ass, presenting her sweetness to you. She is firm and shapely, an angel on earth. You enter her softly but she demands your strength, your power, your caveman instincts and you are more than happy to oblige. You thrust in to her as deeply as you can without anymore hesitation. Her screams of pleasure tell you she’s finally getting what she’s been longing for. You fuck her in to orgasm after orgasm. She turns in to an lust filled animal, so busy moaning she is unable to make out words. You fuck her until her knees give out and she can barely remain standing. Finally, when you are sure she has been given what she needs, you pull out and allow yourself the release. Warm cum explodes out of you on to her warm tits. you are both satisfied. The spell is broken.

You go to help her up from where she has fallen, she stops you. “Leave me…but can I get your number?” As you hand her your card you can’t help to feel something and know that this one is different. She is special and you are damn lucky to have taken that first step.

Where will your day lead?

“She’s asking for it”

*Trigger warning*

I was out and about not too long ago, enjoying a visit at a friend’s tanning salon. For my non Canadian readers, there are a few things you need to know before we delve much further in to this story

  1. We consider ourselves a mosaic not a melting pot. We are a group of different cultures standing together, all unique and pretty that make a bigger picture.
  2. Tanning laws state that you must be 18 years or older to enjoy sitting in a box of warm cancer
  3. We have short summers so when the weather hit 0*C (32*F) we break out our midriffs

So, there I sit conversing about whatever passes for small talk these days when three young women waltz through the door. Two are wearing high waisted leggings and crop tops while the other is wearing hammer pants harem pants and a crop top. They have their hair in buns, bright red lipstick and they are looking pretty darn good. I leave to go cheat on my diet (I may or may not have sucked the mayo off a burger) and when I returned they were gone. I sit down and continue my small talk when, from the other couch, I hear it —

“Well, when they dress like that, what do they expect?”

I was momentarily stunned in to silence. Those of you who know me know that this in itself is a pretty rare occurrence. I slowly turn to the man who had been speaking in disbelief and say “sorry, what?” hoping that I had heard wrong or, at the very least, misinterpreted.

I had not.

Now, I have to mention that, of the five men that would engage in the following “discussion”, four were middle eastern and the fifth was Russian (I think, maybe from the Czech republic? I’m not a geography whiz). These are countries that have higher incidents of sexual assault than Canada. That, to me at least, is relevant. These men thought nothing of talking about their view son sexual assault/consent in public. They were so convinced that their way of thinking was normal that, ironically, they were shocked that I did not agree to their original statement.

I’ll save you the outrage and the name calling because it occurred on both sides and I may or may not have yelled a bit a lot. I will however answer their points because this is obviously a problem that still need to be addressed which is sad – it’s 2014 people!

“Well, if you were starving and someone left a plate of food out would you not be tempted to eat it?”

Tempted? Sure! I’m tempted to do things all the time (I have a very strong Id – Google it) but I don’t succumb. I’ve never picked off a neighboring tables appetizers to date and I am doing some pretty weird things when it comes to food these days. We are human beings, we should have some sort of impulse control. Also, rape and sex are not the same thing and they are certainly not the same thing as eating. Yes, sex is a need but you can meet your need for release without the help of another person. Basically, go ahead and look at that sexy lady! You are even allowed to go up to her and flirt in the hopes of consensual sex but, if you don’t luck out you get to go home and jerk off. You do not get to rape her. Sorry.

“50% of rapes happen because of her clothing”

If you are going to make up a statistic please try to be less obvious – try 47% or 53%… just saying. I couldn’t find any real stats on what percentage of sexual assaults are provoked by clothing. To be fair, that is probably because there are a lot of factors that play in to the motivation of any crime. So I’ll draw from something I do know. I danced regularly as a stripper for a long time. I dressed pretty darn provocatively and in Canada we get totally naked. Lap dances allow patrons to touch certain areas and not the ones that they really want. That’s a tease right? Add the fact that alcohol is being consumed and that probably makes my old job pretty risky. Number of times I was raped or almost raped while alone and naked with a drunk guy in the back? Zero.

“When you let it all hang out in public men are going to go for it”

Up to 80% of sexual assaults are committed by someone who knows the victim. You are much more likely to have to protect yourself from the guy who took you out to dinner than some creep jumping out of the bushes at you, overwhelmed by the lust you caused by baring your belly button. In fact, 60% of sexual assaults occur in private homes, 38% in the victims own home (“Report on Sexual Assault in Canada”). How’s that for a scary though? I was always taught, wrongly it would seem, to fear strangers in alleys not friends in my bedroom.

“Hot young things like them need to be even more careful than anyone else”

Victims of sexual assault come in every age group from infancy to senior citizens; they come from every race, religion, socio-econmic status and body shape. Victims are chosen for every reason and in fact, the only thing that gets repeated over and over about motive is that the perpetrator considered the victim “vulnerable”. We don’t need to victim shame. We don’t need to tell women not to do things in order to avoid raped. We need to tell people to stop raping. Period.

In 2009 there were 677,000 self rep0rted cases of sexual assault (and god knows how many of these crimes went unreported) in Canada alone. That’s a lot of mini skirts and crop tops. Nobody deserves to be assaulted, nobody deserves to be victimized, nobody deserves to have to live with the lasting effects of such a crime. Nobody. We control our fantasies and I have no problem admitting that I have often fantasized about being raped but that is not the same thing. No means no. Consent an be withdrawn. Consent cannot be given while intoxicated. Sex is not to be expected after a date or a fancy dinner or a night on the town. Women and men can dress how they want, flirt and flaunt all they want and, unless you have been given consent, it is not an invitation.

The fact that this isn’t abundantly clear to everyone in such a civilized society is the real shock here, not those three women at my tanning salon. We have come so far but cases like this show me that we are nowhere near the finish line, so much still needs to be done for equality and sexual freedom. If you have ever been witness to any of this ignorance I hope you speak up. If you have been a victim yourself please know that there are many resources to help you including the sexual assault support center (here is the link to the one in Ottawa but they are nationwide). We cannot afford to be silent any longer.


That funny little feeling called…

New relationship energy (or NRE for those of us too lazy to type more than absolutely necessary) is, in my opinion, the most common occurrence in the entire world that most people don’t realize has a name. It’s that feeling you get when you start a new physical or emotional relationship. It’s the thing responsible for the butterflies in your stomach, the fuzzy feeling in your head and your heart skipping a beat. It is fleeting though, only lasting a few months, maybe a year if you’re lucky.

So, besides the obvious euphoria, what good does NRE serve? Well, lots actually which I find wonderfully surprising. It helps us to look past minor flaws which in turn allows us to get to know our partners on a deeper level. NRE can be the push we need to finally get with someone, it enhances sexual activities  – another classic example of our bodies rewarding us for doing the “right” thing (strictly genetically speaking of course) and with all this hormone induced happiness what could possibly go wrong? Nothing! That is why we are all in relationships that are just as happy and mutually satisfying as the day we first laid hands on our very first crush. I don’t need to tell you what happens next. We all know what happens when the newness wears off. The “end of the honey moon”, as I have often heard it called is always a good time right? Logic starts coming back, those small annoying habits suddenly don’t seem so small, you don’t stay up all night every night just to talk and the sex isn’t quite what it used to be. If you are lucky those things don’t disappear for good and you can still enjoy them when the mood strikes (which it will). If you are one of the very privileged few, something else sets in, something deeper and longer lasting than NRE; I don’t know if that replacement feeling even has a name. I am inclined to say comfort but for some reason that has a negative connotation for me. There is safety there, real love, a feeling of a lasting and long term unshakeable bond. Just because your relationship isn’t burning as brightly as a bonfire in July doesn’t mean it’s out, there is something to be said about the heat of red coals.

To be fair, I am a bit of an NRE addict. Okay, I live for it. It has been a very large factor in a lot of my decisions over the years…which is not always a good thing. It actually seldom is. There is nothing wrong with NRE – as long as you recognize it for what it is. Enjoy it while it lasts. Take advantage of the increase in energy, the seemingly endless sexual desire and the awesome excuse for you poor decision making capabilities. Do not make life changing decisions about your relationships while under the influence of NRE. This is not the time to propose, it is not the time to leave your wife for your sexy masseuse and it isn’t the time to be reevaluating your “old” relationship. For, if we are lucky our NRE will someday itself turn old – nothing lasts forever, so never throw out something good for a shot in the dark.

…or do. What do I know?

Oh! You can always have your cake and eat it too by becoming polyamorous but then you would have to presumably allow your partner some NRE of his or her own. That’s a lot of cake.

mmmmm cake