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A New York Escorts Confessions
How the Other Half Lives
It all started with the zit.
It was one of those cyst-like under the skin jobs. You know what I mean. The kind that actually takes days to emerge but you can feel it throbbing there just under the surface like nobody’s business. And you are stuck once it shows up. Try to take action and it will just return in a bigger uglier form. Ah yes, the gift that just keeps giving…
So I was sporting this Mark of Cain one morning last week when I walked into Columbus Avenue Bakery for a happy dish of oatmeal and a latte. This being the upper West Side, I had to first walk a virtual obstacle course around various baby carriages and children to even get myself inside. You know, I know it’s got to be hard trying to navigate narrow and uneven sidewalks while pushing a stroller and pacifying a two-year-old. Nonetheless, there needs to be a better system employed here. Like a “single-girl” crosswalk, or a red light where they have to pull all the strollers over simultaneously into a neat and compact line.
Anyways, I looked around and I saw I was outnumbered even more than usual. Was everyone in the entire place pregnant? And then I saw something that stopped my heart. Literally they all had the most perfect skin—slightly flushed, dewy, youthful and radiant. Their hair was another wonder to behold. Shiny, swingy, healthy. It was hair commercial hair to the letter. I sulked. Was it possible there was a black market for hormones?
It did start me thinking, though. What was it like to be them? What was it like to suddenly be a nubile fertility goddess plunked down into the middle of gritty and earthbound New York? I suddenly realized that I had to find out. Now.
My first thought was to call Bethany. “Okay,” I said. “I’ve got a job for you.”
“Shoot. What’s up?”
“I need to get myself good and knocked up.”
“I’m your girl,” she said. I hung up and immediately headed over there.
Bethany, it should be told, is a costume designer. One of the best I might add. At her studio, she promptly fitted me with a prosthetic belly and butt. “Do you want the boobs too?” she asked. I paused. I couldn’t stop thinking of my Upper Breast Side experience. 42K 42K. “Let’s just stick with the standard package for now.” “All right,” she said. “We’ll work with what we’ve got.”
One hour later I was good to go. Six months and counting. Unfortunately, though, Bethany seemed to only have the Target version of maternity ware on hand. I immediately headed to Liz Lange. Do not pass GO. Do not collect two hundred. And did not exit until I had secured the proper Upper East Side accoutrements. Then I walked outside and stepped into the threshold of my possible future.
What was it like? Well wonderful. An older man literally tipped his hat at me. Women made eye contact and smiled. A crossing guard asked if she could put her hand on my belly. Odd. I felt exposed, as if I were suddenly wearing my genitals on the outside of my body. I couldn’t figure out how to rightly balance my weight. When I crossed the street between intersections I realized I couldn’t slip through parked cars like I usually did, but had to go around. Sly. The world thought they had something on me but didn’t. Maybe I was really a spy with the perfect cover. Maybe I was an actor walking away from the Law and Order set.
Late that night I took off the prosthetics and stepped back into the present tense. I looked in the mirror. Alas, the zit was still there. But someday, maybe soon, it wouldn’t be.
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confessionsComments
I really enjoyed reading your article, thanks! you sound like a really cool person and your words are a joy to read!
Amanda
Well, you didn't get the hormone affect of pregnancy, but I am sure this was a good way to experience the difficulty of being pregnant in a big city...
Did anyone offer their seat for you? That would of been better. It's amazing how people act around someone who is pregnant.
Posted by Ernie on Oct 7 09:14AMHi Alexa,
I just read your email. Thanks for the praise on my personal blog. I love the flow of your writing! Terrific!
Damn, atleast you didn't have the crazy wants, needs and mood disorder that comes with being pregnant.
I will definitely link and have Email ya!
Maizzy
Posted by maizzy on Oct 7 11:08AMAlexa,
Being pregnant for the first time at 33 years old, this post really hit home!
I'm just about 5 weeks along now (we believe), so I'm not yet showing, but have already experienced the way pregnant woman looks (my hair and nails ROCK!) and how she is treated, although not as nicely as a woman who is already showing!
I was driving to the office this week, and suddenly felt the need to vomit. I pulled over on one of the county roads I travel and barely got the door open before the projectile vomiting started. While I was being sick, a police officer pulled up behind me, surely thinking I was a DUI. He walked towards my car and called out " What seems to be the problem here madam?", probably invisioning a roadside test and an arrest. I managed to gasp out "I'm pregnant!" inbetween hurls of bile and wrenches of my stomache. The officer promptly responded with "Well you have a nice day" and beat a very fast retreat!
All of my family and friends think this is the funniest thing ever!
Posted by WiPrincess on Oct 7 11:55AMso i have to tell you as a recently pregger(i just delivered 3 weeks ago yesterday)that people do treat you much better when you are pregnant.people open doors and get out of their seats for you.the weirdest thing was that people thought they had the right to smile at you.i always told my husband that people must think i am nice because i am knocked up-if they only knew what a horrible person i really am.i have lost all of my baby weight and i feel more agile, sexy and free.i wouldn't get pregnant again for all the money in the world.no matter how nice my hair was.
Posted by milf on Oct 7 03:32PMPost a Comment

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about me
So why am I writing this blog? I have an inner exhibitionist that just needs to be let out. I've always wanted to bare myself completely in front of strangers but have always been held back by fear.
As strange as it may sound, I've never really truly bared myself in front of any of my clients. For all that they've seen, they've never seen me be me. And for all that I've seen, I simply need to share it with you!
So why should you come? To be tantalized and teased. To get release by knowing the true me.
I promise that I won't bite, and if I do bite, I'll make sure you like it!
my favorite posts
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- Poops!... I Did It Again!
- My First Escorting Experience
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- Daddy's Little Girl (Part II)
- Selling Out (Part III)


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Heh. Nice experiment.
It's amazing what a different predicament can result in, experience wise. And to think, some people amuse themselves by going to a matinee.
Just please tell me you didn't go to Baby Gap.
(How's that for a typo? I originally put "Baby Gay." Oops.)
Posted by scribecalledsteff on Oct 7 02:34AM