“Goodness, Barefoot, what are you showing off your gunt for?” I can hear the cries of disgust from across the ether. OK, the cries I can hear are echoes of my past. Of twelve years of nasty, unnecessary verbal violence.
Actually, if you’re wondering why I’d say that I have a gunt I must apologise!
This picture doesn’t show things as they are really, so I don’t appear to have much by way of a gunt to show off. But I can assure you it’s there, accidentally angled out in an effort to preserve vulval modesty. (A gunt being defined as an unkind – unless I’m reclaiming it for myself – term used to describe the excess flesh on the lower abdomen, usually leftover after childbirth or weight loss.) And it rears its beautiful head at various points in my haphazard cycle. Especially when I’m not dolled up in my favourite lingerie, trying to take a picture of my bottom belly.
I’ve always exercised, taken great pleasure in being fit and healthy when I can. But this hasn’t always been possible, and according to the NHS I’m still overweight, even though I’m a good weight for my frame. It’s about keeping my mind well these days, rather than trying to appease my abuser. After getting rid of him I rocketed to over 20 stone (280lb/127kg). A self-sabotaging “fuck you” to the man who’d bullied me mercilessly for so long. But then I started taking care of my health a little, and things changed for the healthier!
I would get upset, after having my first son, that I couldn’t lose this roll of fat between my bellybutton and Mons. After my second Caesarean I was in a hole and didn’t care about anything but the boys. Until I met sir who taught me I was a beautiful woman. Then I came onto the kink scene and I saw that all bodies are beautiful and self discrimination was utterly unnecessary.
Ambivalence gave way to something close to pride.
Proud of the lumps and bumps and cellulite and stretchmarks and scars and wrinkles and big old black bags under my eyes. Why? Because I’m a mum. And (I need reminding of this often) I’m a pretty good one too. A statement of fact from anyone who knows my boys. Not that it’s visible to you, as readers of my blog. (Unless you’re in the group of friends who still, patiently, wade through my new posts.) But then, there’s nothing to say my invisible-to-me qualities can’t be entirely-unknown-to-you too, is there?
And that gunt of mine?
I wear that with pride too. Even when it is not playing ball, compressed in my lovely green lingerie. (I had taken pictures which showed me in all my wobbly glory, but it also showed my voluptuous labia, spread wide between open legs. Which was a no from me!
So yes, today, even though I’ve not shown you very clearly, I’m choosing to celebrate my gunt. My gunt and all the other ‘flaws’ that indicate I’m a mum, and a hard working one at that. I wouldn’t change my mum-tum muffin-top any more than I would change my amazing little men.
Thank you for joining me for February PhotoFest 2023. This is my fourth time joining the month long celebration of erotic and sensual photography. If you’re enjoying it please do go and check out the previous years: 2019 was an incomplete month. I skipped 2020 due to not blogging at the time but 2021 was a joy to plan and complete, in spite of lockdowns. 2022 was a little more relaxed behind the scenes, but jam packed with pictures and memories I love.
From the story of how the barefoot sub became the woman she is today, to toy reviews, with a hefty dose of contemplation, a sprinkling of erotica and a LOT of nudity in between, you can be sure to find something to tickle your fancy at A Leap Of Faith.