Transplanted Life
Saturday, April 03, 2004
Shame is a weird thing. Carter's seen me naked a lot, and it's not something I've felt any embarassment over. We're lovers, after all, and I've pretty much come to terms with my boobs and butt and vagina and all that. I even take some pride in them, in that they look good, and them looking good represents, in part, represents a certain amount of willpower on my part - I didn't eat a hamburger for lunch, even when there weren't other girls getting salads around me, or I walked home from the movie theater rather than sitting on my ass waiting for a bus. I inherited a good metabolism from the original Michelle, but that only goes so far, and I've come to realize that being attractive takes effort, even if you start out ahead of the game. I've put on weight since July, but I think it works.

Anyway, I spent the night at Carter's; we'd had a few drinks after the movie, and I wound up going back home with him. He promised me breakfast in bed, and it had been a while since he'd cooked for me. But first, there were other benefits. Not for long, though; because of the whole thing with Mags, I sort of drank a little more than usual while hanging around with Carter and the rest of the folks. Just nervous, I guess, but the alcohol did its job, and I loosened up as the night went on. Knocked me out, though, before Carter was ready for seconds.

I woke up with a headache while Carter was still asleep; not a monster hangover, but enough. Went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth on autopilot, still felt kind of gross, and decided to take a shower. I was still kind of woozy and didn't notice that the shower mat was way up by the drain; I like to stand back more to keep all this hair from getting soaked, but didn't try to readjust the bathmat until the water was already running, so I slipped and fell. I grabbed at the shower curtain on the way down, but the bar it hangs from wasn't actually nailed into the wall (there's like a spring inside so it pushes out), so that crashed to the floor.

I didn't get hurt or anything, but the noise was enough to wake Carter, and he rushed in there, and there I am, on my butt, all wet, one of my legs half-out of the tub and my goodies just out there for anyone rushing into the bathroom to see. I actually shrieked for him to get out and tried to cover myself with the curtain.

I mean, it's weird; it's nothing he hasn't seen before, and I didn't really feel threatened by him at all. Hell, he's got that sleeping-naked habit so it was pretty easy to tell he wasn't going to try and take advantage of me or anything, but, still, it was worse than being embarassed. I actually felt ashamed, but I don't know of what. Maybe just not having control over this body, or something more elemental. I don't know.

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