Hello and welcome to my blog! I’m your hostess, Ladyface.
I'm a 27 year old queer femme sex worker. Between my fancypants day job and my super sexy side gig I spend a lot of time being an attentive, diplomatic Ladyface so this blog is where I’ll let my hair down...I might even curse. Though I curse like a kitten sneezes, which is too say it's infrequent and harmless and still shocks me more than anyone.
I am a sex positive lady and will write candidly about my kinks, my history, my exploits and my daily life (but only the good stuff). And so that I can write as openly as possibe, I'm keeping this space anonymous. All characters are real people in my life but all names are pseudonyms and always will be.
P.S. you can now follow me on Twitter! @1ladyface
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
*Co-Puppy (noun): A close friend you love and respect and can be brutally honest with. You both sometimes do dumb shit and you trust them to let you know when you've mucked up and to help you fix it and vice versa. This very special person is called a co-puppy because two friends navigating their 20's together is like the blind leading the blind or two puppies trying to raise each other.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Mom: So what are you up to this weekend?
Me: I'm doing my first intermediate pole class Friday, Saturday I go on a date with a lovely lady and Sunday I’m getting my bikini line lasered.
Mom: Oh, how did you two meet?
Me: At a strip club.
Mom: Oh Ladyface.
Me: Mom there’s nothing wrong with dancing.
Mom: But it’s so gross, all those dirty old men.
Me: When was the last time you went to a strip club?
Me: Well I’ve been to about 20 and there are some I’d never go back to but there are several in town that are actually pretty great. Safe, fun, sex positive.
Mom: Eww. Just promise me you’ll never take your clothes off.
Mom: Ladyface! You’d never do that. Right?!
Me: I’m still gonna shower.
Mom: [laughing] Oh my god, you scared me.
Maybe she never has to know. But she’s already pestering me about finding a job in SF. And she’s concerned that I can’t afford to move. Really, I could move today if I wanted to but I’m committed to my day job through May. Ironically the club I work at is a hell of a lot safer than the dive bar I bartended at and she was thrilled when I started there.
So…I dunno. Is coming out necessary? Who does it serve? Is it selfish to come out if the alternative is just enduring a bit more well-meaning nagging than usual? My mum is a CPA and does my taxes so I suppose she’ll find out next year when I’ll have tax documents from the club I’m working at and clips4sale. Unless I can come up with a good excuse to take care of that stuff myself.
On a lighter note, we talked about the Favorite Child:
Mom: The Doodle doesn’t like other dogs very much. He’s more of a people person.
Me: Mom, your dog isn’t a person.
Mom: Oh, yes. Well, you know what I mean.
Me: Dad, I’m hungry, what should I eat?
Dad: Peanut butter! Doodle and I really like peanut butter.
Me: I was thinking more like a meal.
Dad: ...peanut butter and jelly?
Oh parents. I love how much you love that pretty pup. =3
Saturday, February 25, 2012
I don’t just wake up like this boys. No, it takes a whole team of singing birds and field mice an hour and a half to create this look. Okay, maybe not. But it really does take about an hour and a half to get ready before each shift (since there isn’t a femmification iPhone app yet.) Come on apple, get on it! I would buy that app in a heartbeat. Or a robot. Yes, a robot would be very nice. But it has to have joint-free hands or fancy silky gloves so our pretty femmey hairs won’t get tangled while they style our elegant updos. Thanks. But back to Ava, I suppose I might get sick of the commitment and simplify my look to reduce that time but for now the slow, deliberate self care feels pretty great.
If you follow me on twitter (@1ladyface) you may have seen my tweet about my new favorite book:
My recent strip club experiences have only reinforced my view that men, with the exception of some transguys and foot fetishists who know beautiful words like D’Orsay and Cole Haan, are opinionated but lack the vocabulary to communicate their testosterone muddled thoughts. Though most men do at least have a yes grunt and a no grunt, except for married ones who have a yes grunt and an uncomfortable “meh” sound.
“Always Ask a Man…” must have taken ages to write! I’m imagining a Diving Bell and the Butterfly type scenario.
p.s. I am aware that some cisdudes are awesome, well-spoken, self aware and appreciative of high femmeness but in my experience they are in the minority. Sorry boys. Also, I respect my clients and I realize that they don’t need to know what goes into the Ava look anymore than I need to know about their pipe welding or data entry or bull fighting. Though if I met a bullfighter I would have a bajillion questions for them, like wtf? And why?
Then I’d ask to borrow their cute little embroidered jacket.