Transformations

I am a tactile person - anyone spending time with us sees the copious amounts of physical affection in our famliy - my sons have actually missed their bus waiting for me to come out of the shower and kiss them goodbye. It is important - if I get hit by a bus, I want the last thing we say to each other to be something sweet - like have a great day, I love you

In high school and college I was an Athletic Trainer - bandaging, taping, icing - living in sweat. Now I am a nurse by trade. Worked psych in downtown Indianapolis for about five years, also worked ER in a small hospital where I saw about everything. When you are a nurse, you see a lot of bodies. Something strange happens, akin to watching a lot of violence on TV I think, the feel of skin, the smell of blood and sweat, the lack of personal space - they all become somewhat normal. When you touch someone, you automatically assess the skin and the pulses, I watch people walk by and assess their gait, watch for signs of pain on the face. Can't help it, that is how I was trained.

This can be a real downer in a marriage - if you have seen "parts" all day, the sight of another naked arse isn't really a turn on. I have always believed that this numbing of my senses was to be my destiny, having never been given any reason to believe otherwise.

Then I got married to the right man. Since we have been married it is as though a shroud was lifted and little things I have hardly noticed are just unbelieveably intriguing. The smell of his soap in the bathroom in the morning after his shower, the warm scent of the sheets on his side of the bed, the smell of the cigars in his Jeep ( that I don't think I am supposed to know about). I have actually caught myself staying awake just to watch him breathe, focused intently on the curls in the hair on his chest. It is as though I have been given a new set of nerves and a new skin to cover my body. I feel better about my body - not great yet, but better. It is much more intimate than sex and it is difficult to explain. It reminds me of the fascination when your baby is born - a part of you, yet not you. It is the most remarkable sensation of having another part of you - like he is my right arm. All of a sudden, the only thing I want to do is stand in my room with my arms around him, head on his shoulder and just breathe.

The thing is, I would really like to have a conversation with "me" at 21, and tell me to just hold out, hold on, don't settle, avoid the high carb diet the doctor suggested ( I digress). Maybe I wouldn't have listened. Had I known how wonderful things could be, had I realized this was possible, to feel so amplified...well I might have done things differently...or then agian, maybe not since that road led me here.