Sometimes –oftentimes, when you grow older– memories gain a new meaning. Recalled with a changed mind, they are deeply touching and revealing.
Pictures help a lot with respect to this. This one above and below, of my younger sister, dates from when she was still a teen–, and again I have played with the natural colours for reasons she always liked and defended. (Natural colours are just fine, and prettier to my eyes, but Ari was so very pretty that this does not matter anyway, as you all may check up below.)
That couch, that my sis and I inherited, was quite ugly, but large, ample and comfortable, so we both sat on it to read and listen to music (we had no TV then) and lay on it to take many a nap. It was wide and deep enough to allow, like a stage, some gymnastics and play and show as my sis was performing right then before my camera.
I perfectly recall that, when entering the drawing room, she was on the couch all dolled up, with a mirror in one hand and a lipstick in the other. I just said: “You look very nice and well attired today; are you having some date?” — She said she did, and then she asked if she could have our opinion (Laia’s, who had come in after me, and mine) on some spicy detail. Since we nodded (I smiling, because I knew her well), she reclined her back and easily lifted her legs all up –long as they were and without helping her with the arms–, and asked: “Do you like my panties?”
Well… they were not visible at all; but anyway, nothing else was, aside of her bottom’s cheeks, so I said the panties were surely right and did their tucking function. She beamed and told us they were, “of course”, smallish (… a mere strip), but they had ladybugs printed on the scarce piece of cloth about the front, and she readily lowered the legs and showed the bugs to us. There were indeed several tiny bright red ones (10 or 12 !) occupying some two square inches of cream coloured cloth; yes. (Some bulge to be appreciated on it, though not bigger than that of a slightly swollen vulva; so I knew she was on a “pee-only catty-tucking” held with a bit of sanitary tape.)
Laia adviced she should not go almost bareback with so short a skirt as she was wearing, and my sis smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
“I have to”, she said. “And, in fact, I like it, so do not be prudish and finicky now. You know they all want it, and anyway I won’t even take them off…, probably”.
Upset as I always was about her nightly jobs back then, I had to admire her body and her foxiness; I also understood quite deeply that I could be somewhat like her regarding this; that I would actually be, one day, if I had the opportunity and some external support. I even felt envy, because that girl –that kiddo–, Ari, was valiant and daring at her late teens; she worked hard, and she did it willingly; and the truth was that she did it for Laia as well.
I took two pictures of her: legs up, to show us her bum, and then legs down and spread wide, to show us the cute panties. This one is a portion of the first take, which reveals better how competent she was making-up herself with cheap stuff from the drugstore at the corner, and also dressing her hair with grace. And moreover: how very pretty she was at that age already (and, please, notice her cleverness and class as well, so patent in her glance. She was not a simple and uneducated person, despite having left school a little too early… Why, she was reading much, knew many things and spoke very well a bunch of languages ! She was subtle and brilliant indeed.)
And now, as I use to, given that these are portraits of an Angel (I’m serious !), I recall verses from R. M. Rilke’s “Duineser Elegien”:
“… Und jene, die schön sind, o wer hält sie zurück? Unaufhörlich steht Anschein auf in ihrem Gesicht und geht fort.”
“… And those who are beautiful, who will hold them back? Ceaselessly, appearance rises in their faces and goes away.”
(Rainer Maria Rilke – “Duineser Elegien”; II, 23-25 – English translation by Li Fontrodona, 2018)
P.S.: BTW, this is how a “p-only catty-tucking” looks (here shown with some undercloth more discrete and shareable than the cheeky one Ari wore that day I was referring to above). It consists in pressing one’s pee, when limp, inside the body, and fixing it in there with a patch of sanitary napkin and some tape; the scrotum, if you are fortunate enough to have it small and stuck to the body, like she had (oestrogen helps a lot), goes free, and with the minor pressure of any elastic panties, it does not look much different than the labia majora of a woman’s vulva. Look and judge:
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