Staying in on a Sunday
Caught up with the Guardian then listened to two podcasts, while eating Jack's home-made bread with cheese. Then
watched a Channel 4 programme celebrating 50 years of page 3 girls. It focused on the stars of the genre, who all said it was great fun (I would find modelling tedious), though once they got famous they suffered set-ups and lies from rival tabloids. I would have liked more historical context, such as what people thought back in 1970 about topless girls suddenly moving from under-the-counter porn magazines, to national newspapers carried on every bus and train. They did feature Anne Widdecombe, a Catholic Tory who tried to get the photos banned, and was much ridiculed. The girls looked gorgeous, though for years the pictures were actually published in black and white.
I worked on my own sexy-super-heroine videos today, which I've been meaning to do for weeks. It was great having a laptop, with its bigger screen, rather than a little phone or the previous stand-alone camera. I did wonder whether it was worth it, whether I'd get anything to improve on the 2018 version - it takes more of time and trouble than it ought do. Even putting on the glossy thong leotard feels quite terrifying (while also exciting), even though no-one else is going to see.
This time I managed to tuck, and hitch up, the front of the leotard (which is supposed to be the back) so it was perfectly placed to reveal nearly all, without quite showing lips, and it stayed in place without slipping and unnecessarily covering any skin.
In fact the first take - which initially seemed to be showing dark areas despite my diligent shaving, in fact just shadow - was the most revealing. It was probably as good as I'll ever get; despite the sunny weather, the best ones are when the curtains closeda bright light's shining on me. I just wish I'd kept my mouth closed for the first set, instead of gawping.
My brother wrote to me about an old diary entry from when we were 19 and 20 which mentioned me. I found my own entry for the same day, when I forgot my house key and had to wake him up to let me in. He is prone to self-analysis and talking about our parents too much. I prefer to just get on with life than think too much about it.
I didn't leave the flat all day but despite the excitement, I still got to sleep all right.