I have a confession to make: I am not a virgin. I know, I know: you're in shock right now. YOU'LL GET OVER IT.
That said, I have needs. Needs that are so NOT getting met right now given that my need-meeter is IN ANOTHER TIME ZONE. If anyone else is a military spouse or has ever been in a long-distance relationship, I know you feel my, uh, pain.
The shop doesn't close down when the best customer goes out of town. Or, you know, the ONLY customer (what with monogamy and all that). The shopkeeper just has to keep the business running until that customer is in town again.
Needless to say, we've both been feeling that itch that only one's spouse can scratch (or else face expensive divorce lawyer fees).
On Valentine's Day, I decided to keep things interesting. I put on my pinkest, laciest, most uncomfortable bra (that I never actually get to wear because the lace itches and shows through everything) and had myself a little sexy time photo shoot (recreated here with Lola and Jasper).
Except that it wasn't sexy at all because I had to use my cell phone camera. Normally I would have used my regular camera, but I couldn't e-mail my pictures to their intended recipient because I didn't want to get him in trouble for looking at titties in the Navy computer lab. The only way I could convey my lacy chesticles to their ogler-in-chief was via tiny, grainy cell phone pictures. And have you ever tried to do a sexy pose while holding your arm out as far away from your body as you can (to get everything in the shot) while simultaneously trying to use it for a little lift (because only the fake ones look... like that) AND praying that you're not pressing the wrong button and tit-texting your father in law? Try it sometime. Trust me--NOT SEXY. AT ALL.
I did succeed in getting a decent picture, despite my winter albino skin tone. Oh wait, I look that way year-round, remember? So off my boobs went into Verizon-land, emerging on the other side to be greeted by a very happy husband. A very happy husband who sent me only a picture of his head in return. And what am I supposed to do with THAT, I ask you?
... It was a picture of his FACE, people--that thing on top of his neck. Not that other head. Get your brains out of the gutter. (For those of you still in the gutter, I know exactly what I would have done had he sent that other picture.)
So apparently my husband did not get the tit for tat dirty text message memo. And yes, I realize how oddly appropriate the phrase tit for tat is right there.
After he realized that the pictures will keep dropping into his phone if he reciprocates, I realized that there are very few sexy ways to take pictures of oneself given the aforementioned constraints. In fact, I'm quickly running out of acceptable, not-too-fat-looking pictures to send. Let's hope he gets orders soon so we can play this game in person. Otherwise I'll have to keep sending him the same booby pic over and over and over.