selfies

12 Days of Girly Juice 2022: 7 Bangin’ Selfies

Kate Sloan

Would you ever do something so self-indulgent as to write a blog post about your favorite selfies you took over the past year?! No, me neither.

Wait, that’s not true. I’ve done exactly that for several years running now. Whoops.

Anyway, without further self-effacing lampshading, here are 7 of the most meaningful selfies I took this year, with a bit of context for each. Look, I’m cute!

 

January 1

Despite writing a song around this time called “Alone on New Year’s Eve,” I was not, in fact, alone on New Year’s Eve. I went to spend it with my parents.

There was a time when that last sentence would have made me feel like I wasn’t cool enough or social enough to line up other plans. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve become less and less interested in listening to the “mean popular girl” voice inside my head that judges me for such things. A girl like that hasn’t had power over me since I was a preteen, except within my own mind. Instead of taking her criticisms to heart, instead I can just ask myself in any given moment: What is it that I most want to do? And then I can do that.

And truth be told, it’s been years since I’ve wanted to spend New Year’s out at a dance club, bar, or party. I’ll swig some midnight champagne and yell a countdown at the TV, sure, but from the comfort of my own (or a loved one’s) home. New Year’s is a hugely self-reflective time for me (as this blog series makes clear), a time when I like to think back about who I’ve been that year and who I want to be in the coming one, and I find it easiest to be introspective when I’m operating from home base.

Anyway, I chose this picture because my mum and I look super cute in it, and because she’s so sweet and funny and delightful and a really important part of my year every year. Love you!

 

February 3

To the extent that I had any kind of defined personal style this year – which is dubious – a lot of the time it fell into what could be termed “lovecore.” This is a style of dress in which “romantic” colors like pink and red are emphasized, and in which the (non-anatomical) heart symbol plays a big role.

I truly would dress like this nearly every day if I had the energy to do so. And frankly, maybe that just means I need to transition my loungewear and sleepwear wardrobe into a more lovecore-y vibe by gradually phasing out all colors but red, pink, and black. Who knows what the future may hold for my look.

In scouring the internet for lovecore-centric inspo images, I kept stumbling across pictures of this heart-print sweatsuit. Megan Fox famously wears a jacket like this one in Jennifer’s Body, and it’s a showstopper. After going back and forth on it for a while, I eventually sprung for a duplicate of the full sweatsuit made by a random Etsy shop.

It’s certainly not what you’d call sophisticated or understated. It is LOUD, and it hugs my curves in ways that would have made me feel uncomfortable and insecure just a few short years ago. But I love it. When I took this selfie the first time I wore it, I actually liked the photo so much that I put it into my Tinder profile almost immediately. It’s always been important to me to be fully forthcoming about what my body looks like in my online dating profiles, because I don’t want to risk ending up on a date with someone who isn’t chill about me being adorably chubby, and this photo feels like one of the best ways to do that. It’s where romance meets sexiness, baby.

 

February 13

When a reader of mine asked me to write a blog post about her jeans bondage fetish, it occurred to me that I’d need some photos to go with the post. Originally I was just going to take some normal arm’s-length selfies wearing jeans in bed, but I tried that and they just didn’t come out looking the way I’d hoped.

It was then that I realized I needed to do something I’d only done one other time before: a solo photoshoot in the corridors of my building, complete with tripod and self-timer. The risk was high – a neighbor could walk out at any moment and witness the whole denim-clad scene – but I knew the pictures would be much better than those I’d half-assed in bed.

The lighting in those hallways is creepy, and the whole vibe is very The Shining, albeit with less glamour and less blood. But I liked how the photos came out, not least because they were meant to emphasize the tightness of the jeans moreso than whether the jeans were “fashionable” or “flattering” or any other such dirty word. I saw the denim squeezing my thighs and hips and, instead of feeling ashamed or like I needed to fire up Photoshop, I simply thought about people who are into jeans bondage and how much they’d relish the constrictive look of this pair of skinnies.

I also like that there’s something a bit lonely about this photograph. Standing alone in a long hallway, with a KN95 mask underlining my hopeful upward gaze. It has a “trapped” feeling that makes it feel very 2022-appropriate.

 

February 16

I think my Honni Music electric baritone ukulele might be my favorite thing I bought this year. I was debating between this custom-made instrument from Australia and a much more generic, off-the-rack acoustic baritone. I asked my spouse and my brother what they thought, and they both said roughly the same thing; in mb’s words, “I think the electric one will bring you more joy and spark more creativity.”

I don’t know how or why, but the artisanal luthier behind Honni Music only charges about $300 (CAD) per instrument, despite the fact that he makes them all by hand to the specifications of each customer. But I decided to treat myself, and ordered one. It didn’t even take very long to arrive all the way from Australia!

I took this picture the day I received the uke in the mail. My face here is genuinely reflective of the excitement I was feeling. There is something so special about an instrument that has been hand-crafted from scratch. This one is stunning.

I had never owned an electric guitar or electric ukulele growing up, because they were too loud with an amp and too quiet without one, and they didn’t really fit into the style of music I was interested in making then. But I always secretly sorta wanted an electric guitar, because they were the epitome of cool, and I thought that owning one could usher me into a whole new way of making music.

So it felt deeply nourishing to my li’l music-lover heart to buy this for myself, and to play it, plugged into a tiny practice amp I bought from some rando on Facebook Marketplace. It felt like a gift to my younger self, the one who’d stood in front of her bedroom mirror playing air guitar to Aerosmith and John Mayer. And it’s inspired me to write a lot of great songs since I got it, too.

 

July 9

My roommate Sarah and her boyfriend Dan (who I’ve actually been friends with for even longer than I’ve known Sarah) have been two of my closest pals for years, but especially so during the pandemic, when we made a regular ritual of gathering in Sarah’s room to play Jackbox games and Use Your Words over cocktails and ciders. It felt so important and healing to have an outlet for the kind of casual socializing we lost out on when self-isolation became the new normal.

I took this photo with the two of them on the night we went out (yes, went out! To an actual bar patio! Wow!) to celebrate Sarah’s birthday. She is a mega-femme whose signature color is pink, so I always wear pink for her birthday festivities, whatever and wherever they may be.

While writing this just now, I couldn’t recall the name of the bar we went to, but remembered that all the drinks were themed around various nerdy, sci-fi and/or cult-y media properties (Dungeons & Dragons, Star Wars, Beetlejuice, etc.) so I googled “nerd bar gay village Toronto” and the name of the place popped right up: Storm Crow Manor. Gotta love any place where the drinks glow and the waiters wear short-shorts.

Shout-out to these two pals for being there for me in a major way these past few years!

 

September 19

Matt and I are both so accustomed to posing for selfies that it can be hard to take “candids” of either of us. So I love that this picture captures us genuinely laughing together in a way we do constantly but not often on camera. I don’t know what we were laughing about, but we look cute and in love.

The night that this was taken, we headed out for a drink at Martiny’s, a very dark and serious bar that serves (as you’d expect) fantastic martinis, among other things.

I don’t have much more to say about this one except, like, look how adorable we are!

 

October 29

Appropriately to its almost-Halloween date, this is probably one of the weirdest and most chilling selfies I took all year. But it’s kinda great, too.

I did solo shrooms trips several times this year, partly recreationally and partly for the drug’s potentially trauma-healing effects. (One day I’ll write all about how shrooms are helping me heal my inner child, but I don’t think the time for that is right just yet.)

This picture was taken around 5 p.m. after a full day of shroomy goodness. In glancing through my trip notes for that day (which I think I’ll be diving into more in my “favorite journal entries of the year” post later this week), it seems that some of the things I did during that trip included watching Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan, drifting in and out of trance, and weeping profusely while watching a funny video of a guy playing Zelda games. (It’s a long story, idk.)

After being high for around 6 hours – by which time I’m usually feeling somewhat sober-er but reality still feels a bit fuzzy at the edges – I opened up the camera on my phone and looked at myself in the selfie-cam. There was something about this sight that seemed almost mystical to me – the way my hair was arranged like a peacock’s tail or a lion’s mane in a Renaissance painting, the way my slip dress’s spaghetti strap sagged off one shoulder, the way my makeupless face told a tale of peace and tranquility that was somehow also haunted. I snapped a few shots. This was the best one.

 

It’s been a weird year – although I probably say that every year – and I’m glad that I have these photos to remember it by. What were some of your fave selfies you took this year?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2021: 7 Bangin’ Selfies

Kate Sloan

It’s time for the most self-indulgent instalment of this series: the one where I show you my fave selfies of the year and tell you about why they were meaningful to me! Let’s jump in…

Content note: There will be nudity in this post! You’ve been warned!

 

January 9

I’ve had such a hard time staying in touch with my femmeness during the pandemic. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve waded more deeply into fancy loungewear than I ever had before, I’ve bought myself cute slippers and robes and chemises, I’ve attempted to make “hanging out at home day after day” into something glamorous and aesthetically pleasing… but that stuff can only go so far when you’re depressed about not being able to go out, see people, and do things in the world.

On this night, my partner and I got dressed up to sit at home on the couch watching a livestream of Bawdy Storytelling. A friend of mine was telling a story that night and we wanted to be there to support him (virtually, from afar). Bawdy offers a thing in their virtual shows where you can pay extra to be an “exhibitionist” or a “voyeur,” meaning that your camera can be on during the show so other people can see your look, and/or that you can see other audience members (who’ve consented to it) throughout the show. It’s a really fun way of motivating audience members to dress how they would if they were going to an actual Bawdy show – and to make the flirty personal connections that often at least partially motivate such aesthetic choices.

It felt good to put on lipstick and lashes and a sparkly dress, even if it was “only” to watch an online show. I’m glad to have had opportunities this year to occasionally cosplay like we’re in the Before Times.

 

February 14

Valentine’s Day selfies often end up making their way into this post, because I love to dress cute for Valentine’s Day. It’s one of the few days of the year when I can really “get away with” wearing pink, red, and a whole lotta hearts!

Matt and I usually go out for a fancy romantic dinner on this day, but we decided to do a COVID-friendly version of that this year and ordered delivery from the steakhouse BLT Prime. We sat down at their little dining room table in our pink finery and ate an excellent meal, and it was almost like being at an actual restaurant.

There are always ways to celebrate special occasions even if your options are limited, and I found that dressing up was a major way I celebrated holidays and accomplishments this year. Even in an era where my most frequent and robust socialization happens via Twitter and Discord, there are still times worth dressing up for – and eating a steak with my sweetie in celebration of our love was one of those times.

Side note: Check out that grin. They really do make me this happy. 🥰

 

April 26

When Matt received the sex doll they were supposed to review for my site, we couldn’t stop laughing about how tiny she was. Like, yeah, we knew she wasn’t full-sized, but I don’t think either of us really fully understood just how small she would be until we took her out of her box.

I immediately had a very specific vision for the photo I wanted to take to go along with the review. It needed to convey what we had realized in that moment of opening her up: that she was hilariously, almost disturbingly petite.

But also, having done a fair bit of writing on sex dolls and sex robots and the like, I’m kinda fascinated by the “uncanny valley” and the differences between human sexiness and slick technologically-engineered sexiness. I wanted this photo to convey that tension as well: my tattooed and cellulite-dimpled thighs next to her tiny flat-planed ones, my gravity-affected boobs and her perfectly round ones, my skeptical expression and her total lack of human expressiveness. It’s an odd photo and I like it more every time I look at it.

 

April 30

Upon returning home to Toronto in April after a 7-month stay in New York, I had to go on a long and (for my chronically ill body) arduous journey. I had to take a cab to the airport, go through security, get on the plane, fly, get off the plane, pick up my suitcase, drag it onto a link train, ride the train to my quarantine hotel, check into the hotel, stay there for 3 days, and then trek to my parents’ house to complete the remainder of my quarantine. It was pretty exhausting.

I took this photo, sleep-deprived and mildly manic with anxiety, on the link train between the airport and my hotel, by which point I’d been traveling for something like 7 hours. I was surprised to get a car to myself on the train, and wanted to let Matt know I was doing okay but barely had the energy or brainspace to formulate a coherent message. So instead, I lifted up my shirt, snapped a surreptitious public nude, and sent that.

The wildness in my eyes makes me laugh, because I was really on a different planet mentally at that moment than I am in normal everyday life. I was just So Over It, and you can tell. This isn’t really a sexy nude. It isn’t really a funny one either. It’s just… weird. But I like that about it.

 

May 16

Both of my vaccine shots happened somewhat suddenly and unexpectedly – I’d hear about a pop-up vaccination clinic way up in North York or way out in Scarborough, do a little scoping online to see if it was for real, and then hop on the subway or in an Uber and get my ass there ASAP. It was quite a rush, like the public-health equivalent of managing to score tickets to your fave band’s big arena show just moments before it sells out.

Upon arriving back home after my first shot, I was glowing with happiness from having been able to get this thing I’d been (like most other people at that time) desperately and impatiently hoping and wishing for. So I decided to take a nude, of course.

This photo is such a 2020/2021 mood. I love that about it. In no other years so far in my lifetime would it make sense, let alone be hot, to take a lewd selfie with a band-aid slapped onto your arm like a sexy accessory. And yet, this is probably one of the most sensual photos I took all year, if just because of what it portends. After all, wouldn’t you rather kiss someone who’s got their shot than someone who hasn’t yet?

 

August 26

Another sexy one! Damn, there are a lot of those this year.

I had a bunch of ideas for photos I wanted to take when copies of my book first arrived on my doorstep. I wanted to line them up in flat-lays with whips and chains, hold them between my legs like a naughty secret, surround myself with them like I was drowning in my own words. But also, I wanted to put one on my ass.

Something I like about this photo is that I would have no idea how to interpret it if you showed it to me-from-10-years-ago. I wouldn’t immediately clock this ass as my own, because I didn’t have those distinctive tattoos back then, and I certainly wouldn’t know how to parse the sight of my own name on a beautiful book like this.

In many ways, this is a photo of the version of me I’ve manifested into existence over the years, the me who I’ve fought to become. A good girl, an inked-up queer femme, a freelance writer lounging half-nude at home, a published author who doesn’t have to care if people online have seen her butt or not. It’s essentially a self-portrait of some of my favorite things about myself and my life.

Plus it’s made a great promo shot for the book. I mean, if you saw this on a billboard or something, wouldn’t you be curious?!

 

October 24

Because we’re romantics, Matt and I celebrated the one-year anniversary of them proposing to me by returning to the place where it happened, the High Line park.

We walked the entire length of the park twice, first one way and then the other, stopping in various spots where we’d had romantic moments on previous visits: places where we kissed, where we held hands, where we laughed at odd things we’d overheard other people saying.

But the most meaningful spot in the whole High Line for us is the picturesque lookout where Matt got on one knee and asked me to marry them. They’d chosen it specifically, over any other place in the park, because it was so beautiful. So we returned there and took a selfie to document the moment, and our joy.

I love them so much and I’m still so glad I said yes to them that evening in the park, late in 2020. I think our smiles say it all.

12 Days of Girly Juice 2020: 7 Bangin’ Selfies

Kate Sloan

Every December, I write about some of the most significant selfies I took throughout the year. Despite the fact that I spent most of 2020 sitting on my couch in my pajamas (anyone else?!), I nonetheless managed to take many photos of special moments with special people. Here are 7 of my faves!

January 13th

This was taken while Bex and I were on a work trip to Burbank, California. We had been provisionally hired to helm a sex magazine which never ended up happening (thanks, COVID) and had to spend a couple days chatting with fellow sex-industry professionals at ANME and learning about the latest innovations in the sex toy field.

They have legal weed over there, so we got a little silly. I snapped this selfie on our way back into our hotel after a smoke break in the parking lot; I had gotten wayyy too high on that legendarily strong California kush, and my childlike glee started to break through the veneer of polished adulthood we’d had to project all day at the tradeshow. Bex, sensing my over-intoxication, helped me plan my next steps, and when we got back to our room, he encouraged me to get into a hot bath and call my partner so they could take care of me over the phone.

I love this picture because it captures so much of what I love most about my friendship with Bex: our ability to make each other howl with laughter. It’s the reason our podcast has remained so fun to do all these years, and it’s one of the things I missed most about my normal, pre-pandemic social life while everything was up in the air this year.

January 17th

It’s still so wild to me that I wrote a book. It’s not coming out until September 2021, but at this point it’s been so long since I actually wrote the thing that sometimes I forget what my daily routine was like during that process. My calendar archives make it very clear, however, that I was surprisingly disciplined and productive for a chronically fatigued person, generally writing 2 short chapters every weekday for about 3 months. I’m proud of myself!

This photo was taken the night of my official book deadline. I’d submitted the completed manuscript a couple days earlier, because I have way too much anxiety to leave things like that to the last minute, but it still felt like a momentous day. My partner and my friends encouraged me to get dressed up and go out for a solo date to celebrate. I put on one of my favorite dresses and a full face of pretty makeup, and walked down to the Fairmont Royal York hotel, which contains the Library Bar, an ornate and auspicious salon filled with good books and excellent cocktails. It’s the same place Matt and I went when I ceremonially signed my book contract and had some celebratory drinks, so it made sense to return there when the book was finished, albeit by myself.

I have a lot of trouble acknowledging and celebrating my own achievements, even big ones. Part of me always believes I didn’t quite earn them, or that something will go disastrously wrong and I’ll embarrass myself somehow if I actually take ownership of what I’ve achieved. But it felt good to sip a dirty martini by myself and write in my journal about how proud I was to have written a whole goddamn book.

February 22nd

Doing shrooms for the first time was one of the oddest things I did all year. I took them (in tea form) in the early afternoon, and what followed was basically a full day of laughing, crying, dancing, marching, hallucinating, joking, and singing. Fortunately my trip-sitter and friend Brent willingly put up with all of it.

I think I took this selfie when Brent had stepped out of the room for a few minutes. His presence had been an anchor to my floaty mind, and I’d gotten mildly panicky every previous time he’d tried to step out, so this time I picked up my phone (even though my phone had been unofficially off-limits to me all day because of the loopy things I might tweet) and texted my partner so I could make it through the duration until Brent got back. But in classic “me” fashion, I also needed to take a selfie.

This picture really captures the childlike giddiness I felt for much of my shrooms trip. While I didn’t necessarily have any of the “epiphanies” many people report from psychedelics, the experience did lead me to reflect on the artifice and malleability of (some aspects of) identity – and truth be told, I like the part of me that’s silly and happy-go-lucky, whether she shows up in an age-play scene or during a shrooms trip. This photo shows a side of me I sometimes ignore or repress, but I’d probably be much happier if I let her out to play more often, like I did on that day.

March 8th

This picture is important to me because it was taken at the last big event I went to before the coronavirus shut everything down.

My mom and I went for dinner at Insomnia – y’all, I miss their kale salad with grilled chicken so much that my stomach made excited anticipatory noises as I was writing this sentence – and then we walked across the street to the Bloor Cinema, where Drunk Feminist Films was holding a screening of Cats. I had thus far avoided seeing Cats even though everyone was saying it was the most outrageously goodbad movie in decades, but I knew Drunk Feminist Films would be the best possible setting in which to see it, and I was right.

As far as “last major outings before a global pandemic” go, this one was pretty excellent. I was wearing pink sequinned cat ears. I was quite tipsy. I was with my mom, who I love and who makes me laugh a lot. There were whispers about “that coronavirus thing” but I wasn’t all that concerned yet. And I got to scream at the screen, along with hundreds of other raucous feminists, about Judi Dench breaking the fourth wall and Ian McKellen drinking milk from a bowl. I have a few coronavirus-related regrets from this year, but attending that screening of Cats is not one of them.

June 20th

After months of staying at home, the case numbers finally started to decrease to a level where I felt comfortable visiting my family, who had also remained at home except for essential trips to the grocery store or pharmacy. My mom picked up Matt and me and drove us to her house, where we drank martinis in the back yard with my mom and brother, told stories, and joked around.

I know I’m not alone in feeling that this year really emphasized the importance of family and togetherness (to the extent that such things are possible and enjoyable for you – I know not everyone is lucky enough to have a family they like, who likes them back). You can see in my face in this photo that this was no ordinary “sitting around drinking and chatting” kind of night – this was special, even though the tone was casual. I was so glad to finally get to see these people again who had seemed hundreds of miles away even when they were just across the city from me.

September 15th

This photo represents two of the major kinks Matt and I played with together this year: chastity and financial domination. While they were locked up in chastity, we decided it would be fun to do one of our long-distance “phone dates” – wherein we each go to a restaurant or bar in our respective cities and talk on the phone throughout – but for them to foot the bill for the entire evening, because sometimes it turns them on to spoil me.

I put on the set of blue Agent Provocateur lingerie Matt had bought me as an earlier financial domination task, and added (of course) the necklace on which I keep my key to their chastity cage. On top of that, I wore a blue dress and a yellow cardigan, and walked to a restaurant Matt had chosen for me in swanky Yorkville called Sassafraz. (I sat outdoors, away from other guests; me and the staff had masks on whenever possible; there was ample hand sanitizer available; etc. etc.) We chatted on the phone during dinner, and they paid for my whole meal and my Uber ride back home.

I like this photo because I look powerful in it, even though you can’t see my face. Being dominant doesn’t come naturally to me, but this year I’ve enjoyed finding new ways my dominance can manifest, and how those newer routes can help me access different sides of my dominance that feel authentic and restorative. Here’s to more kinky adventures in 2021 (hopefully also in gorgeous lingerie)!

November 14th

A wedding-day selfie was a necessary inclusion in this post, of course!

As I explained on a recent Dildorks episode about weddings, although it’s common for couples to avoid seeing each other before the event so as to preserve the surprise, Matt and I decided not to do it that way for our tiny COVID wedding. It just made more sense for us to both get ready at their apartment and then walk over to the wedding location together.

I had thought this might feel disappointing when we actually did it, but it was totally fine, and even kinda fun. On such a potentially nervewracking day, it was nice to be with the person who alleviates my nerves most skilfully – and also to share in our excitement together.

We took this selfie just before heading out to Madison Square Park to get married. We look happy, calm, and excited to continue our lives together. ❤️

 

In the comments, feel free to tell me about a favorite selfie you took this year, and what made it so special!

12 Days of Girly Juice 2019: 7 Bangin’ Selfies

Kate Sloan

Ah yes. It’s time for what is possibly the most self-indulgent instalment of 12 Days of Girly Juice: the one where I highlight some of my favorite and most meaningful selfies of the past year. Read on for lots of my cute face, and the cute faces of people I adore…

December 18th, 2018

Is this my favorite picture of me and Matt ever? Quite possibly!

This was taken in the Fairmont Royal York hotel the morning after we did a roleplay scene in the hotel’s beautiful Library Bar. Our room had excellent selfie lighting, and we, as Very Online millennials are wont to do, opted to take advantage of that.

I love how much this picture captures our genuine excitement and joy to be together. Long-distance relationships remind me a lot of my bipolar disorder, in a way: there’s so much euphoria during dates, and then sometimes periods of melancholy and despair when you’re apart.

It’s often difficult, but just the same as my mental health issues, I usually feel that the lows are worth enduring for the highs. It’s a relationship style that sort of forces you to really focus on your partner and be present when you’re with them, inviting you to take no moment for granted. This isn’t always easy in a world of smartphones and the capitalist grind, so I appreciate that my LDR provides me with an opportunity to live (and love) this way!

I also love that our outfits match… We’re obnoxious like that.

February 14th, 2019

Let me tell you a not-so-tall tale…

When placing an order from JetPens early in the year, I took a look at the rulers section, purely because I am a pervert and frequently enjoy the transgressiveness of using office supplies for impact play, à la “teacher/student punishment scene.” What can I say – I’m an ageplay fanatic through and through. I hurriedly chose one that seemed heftier than a standard ruler – even potentially thuddy?! – and threw it in my cart, alongside the fancy pen and ink refills I was also buying.

When the package showed up, however, I took the ruler out and immediately started laughing hysterically. It was SO MUCH TINIER than I had expected. (“What is this, a ruler for ants?!”)

It was especially hilarious because, as one person on Twitter pointed out to me, a ruler is the one object whose size you can easily tell just by looking at it in a photo online. EXCEPT… I had misread the description and thought the ruler was laid out in inches, when it was actually marked with centimeters. Tooootally different ball game!

Anyway, I love this selfie because it captures my genuine, laughing-out-loud amusement at my own fuck-up. I could barely hold the phone straight for giggling so hard. Moments like that are rare and worth savoring!

February 14th, 2019 (yes, again!)

On Valentine’s Day, I did one of my very favorite things: took myself on a solo date.

Both of my partners were spending the night with their other partners, which, y’know, happens sometimes in poly. I had foreseen this as a potential problem for my emotional stability (how many Valentine’s Days alone can one person endure??) so I’d bought myself a ticket to a musical for children, because I know myself pretty well, evidently.

The night of, I got thoroughly dolled up and then schlepped across the city to the Soulpepper theatre. It’s down the lane from this “Love Locks” installation, a common destination for Valentine’s, weddings, and other romantic milestones. I couldn’t help myself, and posed for a selfie in front of the word “Love,” neon and unignorable.

I look bewildered, in the way one does when one is self-conscious about taking a selfie alone in public. But I love this picture because… I went on this adventure even though I was bewildered. I sat in the front row and drank a beer and laughed and cried and then took myself home on the subway and took good care of myself. You don’t need a partner to be present – or to have a partner at all – to feel loved, and to be loved.

July 18th, 2019

This is a sad one. *takes a deep breath*

My parents moved out of their house this year, after living there for 26 years, i.e. my entire childhood and then some. It was a big, sprawling house, which was one of the things we loved about it, but its bigness had also grown redundant what with me moving out in 2017. So we begrudgingly began the process of putting nearly 3 decades’ worth of stuff into boxes, in preparation to move them to a newer, smaller house.

On our last day at the old place, we ran around cleaning and inspecting and corralling. I walked through the whole house taking pictures and videos of the details I most wanted to remember. And then I found a quiet moment to myself up on the third floor, in the now-empty bedroom I’d grown up in.

I’d lost my virginity in this room, started my blog in this room, said “I love you” to a romantic partner for the first time in this room. I’d cried and laughed and gasped in this room. I’d written thousands of pages there, and read thousands more. I’d stared out the big window at the lonely lights in the apartment buildings opposite, in the middle of the night when sleep wouldn’t come. I’d written songs on 4 different instruments in this room and then sang them for hours, warbling and raw. Every feeling I’d ever felt had been felt first and most intensely in this room.

So I laid on the floor, and snapped a sad selfie, and soaked it all in one last time. And then I walked out the door and said goodbye.

July 30th, 2019

My brother Max is one of my favorite people on the planet. On this night, we went out together to attend a John Mayer concert at a big stadium, after munching hot dogs in front of Union station. We’ve both loved JM for many, many years, through many, many missteps and weird musical choices. He’s still, I think, one of the best songwriters in the biz.

After the concert, Max insisted on walking me home, because he’s a good brother and a good pal. We encountered a bike taxi that was blasting Michael Bublé’s “Haven’t Met You Yet,” a song we love, and we started walking faster to try to keep up with it, all while singing along with the song at top volume. No alcohol had been consumed but we were still sort of high from a night of good music and good company.

We snapped this selfie in the middle of downtown Toronto at an hour when I would’ve been too freaked out to be there if I was by myself. It’s my fave selfie of me and Max from the whole year ’cause we both look so happy and silly. He’s my best bruddy and I’ll love him forever!

September 21st, 2019

There was a Bi Arts Festival going on and I invited my friend and roommate Sarah to attend the arts and crafts fair portion with me, because that kind of event is extremely our shit. We walked all around the ballroom of the 519 community centre, cooing at handmade leather kinkwear, embroidered patches, enamel pins, queer-as-fuck paintings, and other masterworks. I spent far too much money on gifts for various bi babes in my life.

Afterward, we wandered through the Village back toward the subway and happened upon this very queer wall mural; I’ve walked past it a zillion times but I don’t think I’d ever taken a selfie in front of it! So we took some happy smiley femme pics in front of all these powerful symbols of queer history and queer causes.

I feel really grateful to live in a city where there are such vibrant queer communities – and I’m also super grateful to have pals who make me feel free to be myself. 💖

October 14th, 2019

My friend Bex did something really difficult and meaningful this year: he got top surgery!

He asked me to be with him on the big day (what an honor) so I flew down from Toronto and we left at Extremely Early Morning O’Clock to meet up with Bex’s dad at NYU Tisch hospital. (Much coffee was drank that day. By me, I mean. Bex doesn’t like coffee and also probably would’ve been too nervous to drink it even if he did!)

This selfie was taken on the subway on our way downtown, and the excitement is palpable! Later, after surgery, a hospital employee who was wheeling Bex’s gurney into a different room looked at our happy faces and asked, “You were getting a good surgery, right?” We nodded. Yes, very good.

It’s been a pleasure to watch Bex grow and change as a person over the 4+ years we’ve known each other, and I’m honored to have him as a friend (and a podcast cohost). Here’s to lots more years of friendship and growing up together!

 

What were your fave selfies of the year and why were they so meaningful?

Sex Sells, Part 1: Selling Nudes

Kate Sloan

I’ve always loved good-lookin’ nudes. When I was a young(er) pervy little thing, I would creep to the family computer in the dead of night and surf SuicideGirls, GodsGirls, and archives of old Bettie Page prints – always taking care to clear my browser history afterward, of course. These women, with their lush curves and hard-femme aesthetics, had something I thought I could achieve someday, once I came of age: the confidence to pose nude on the internet.

Especially in light of the recent SESTA/FOSTA laws which are jeopardizing many sex workers’ livelihoods, I was excited when the folks at Dior London Escorts agreed to sponsor a blog series here on my experiences with sex work (the mild forms of it that I have done), so I would have an opportunity to do some destigmatizing through storytelling. I thought immediately of those formative late nights, scrolling through elegant porn. At one point, my desire to join these naked women’s ranks was so great that I shot some provocative (non-nude) photos of myself on my little digital camera and carefully photoshopped the SuicideGirls logo into the corner of one, just to see what it would look like. My mom later found that illicit jpeg on our computer and told me she hoped I was being careful with my images. I still don’t know whether she thought I’d actually somehow been accepted to model for the site despite being underage.

Those early signs of exhibitionism didn’t really bear out in my adult life. I’ve performed in porn from time to time, with friends behind the camera or on camera with me or both, but it was always more for the goofy fun of the experience than for a sexual desire to show off. When I’ve shared lascivious photos online, it’s typically been out of boredom or the need for an ego boost. Even sending nudes to partners doesn’t really get my rocks off in and of itself; I typically don’t do it unless asked to, because it doesn’t often occur to me, and it’s the other person’s desirous reactions that thrill me and make me feel hot.

And yet… I like selling nudes. There is something powerful and sexy about it. Maybe I have a bit of a money kink; maybe it’s just that strangers buying photos of my body makes me feel somehow more “legitimately” hot than when partners enjoy those same photos, because the strangers don’t even know about my charming personality and still want to jerk off to me. Weird but true.

I don’t recall the first time I sold a nude, but I would imagine the interaction originated in a Twitter DM. Maintaining an active Twitter presence full of sex jokes and snazzy selfies, I attract a fair amount of sexually motivated looky-loos. Sometimes random men slide into my DMs with a simple “Hey” and it turns out they want to see me naked; other times they’re upfront about wanting to buy pictures (guess which approach I prefer?!). On the advice of my friend Bex, a gifted salesman, I’ve started answering every vague DM from a stranger with a concise “What can I help you with?” This sets a businessy tone for our conversation and helps me quickly filter out flirty time-wasters so only actual customers remain.

I always ask interested buyers if there’s anything in particular they want to see. If it’s something fairly basic (say, tits or ass – the classics), typically I already have some great shots on tap that I can send along. If they want something more niche or involved, I set aside some time to shoot what they’re looking for. I don’t even necessarily have to be at home to pull this off; I have fond memories of snapping impromptu nudes for clients in bar bathrooms and a boyfriend’s bed (the boyfriend knew what was up!). I feel like a badass every time I make quick cash just taking pictures of my body, a body that feels utterly ordinary to me because I walk around in it all day every day. What a revelation and a joy that some people like this chubby, flawed body enough to pay for digital glimpses of it, even without knowing anything about me.

The only times selling my nudes has gotten awkward were when the buyer was someone I knew. Either I felt guilty about charging them money (even though they were proactively trying to pay me) or the interaction added a sexual element to a relationship that previously lacked that dimension. But in every case, these people have been cordial and respectful throughout the process. I’ve even said “no” to a few of them and gotten nothing but sweet understanding in return.

I’m always happy to sell nudes, so slide into my Twitter DMs or send me an email if you want to buy some. I love that this exchange is a total win-win: my buyer walks away happy (and hopefully jerkin’ it), and in return I get a fistful of cash and the knowledge that someone, somewhere, thinks my body is beautiful.

 

Thanks to Dior London Escorts for sponsoring this post! They’re one of the most popular escort agencies in London, known for their high-quality service and employing a wide range of women.