Over-exposure

It’s a 21st century problem bemoaned by the media, politicians, celebrities and regular folk alike.

Many of us are too over-exposed – making our own movies on our phones, taking photos that we regret taking or appearing on in the morning, then plastering them all over a range of social media sites. It’s either that or people writing every minute detail of their lives, even if it is as mundane as eating a cheese toastie, on such websites, under the delusion that so-called ‘friends’ are even vaguely interested.

So, it is no surprise that, along with drunken indignities, images or film footage of lads and lasses in states of undress or performing rumpy-pumpy also find their way on to such forums.

I, as a mature (ish), upstanding  member of society, had always thought this kind of thing happened to other people – probably those aged between 16 and 25, after a few too many cocktails.

But I fear the threat of exposure (in fact exposure is an understatement) hangs over me.
A dvd recently came into my possession, which can only be described as a compilation of various naked antics with a certain chap. I cannot deny that I remember some of the filming taking place, but I don’t recall all of it, which probably took place through a haze of red wine.

This disk was a thinly veiled attempt to win me back – in a ‘let’s do this again; it was such fun’ kind of way. I initially told him that, while I would take it, I would rather sit on a hot poker than actually watch it. But one Saturday night in on my own, after a few glasses of (yet more) wine and nothing suitably engaging on the telly, curiosity took over.

“Maybe I could just watch a bit of it,” I thought, “Just to see what’s on it.” Of course in the end I was sitting in an armchair, no more than a metre away from the TV screen, going through every second of footage.

It was slightly uncomfortable viewing, as I saw my round belly and wobbly boobs bouncing up and down and unflattering angles of my posterior and my mouth on more than one shot was stained with wine. You could hardly compare it to the perfectly sculpted, toned, glossy-haired women on most porn films, whose makeup remains unsmudged, no matter how many cocks they suck or sprays of semen hit them.

In fact, I cringed at myself throughout 90 per cent of the content. The only part I watched twice was when I was hit in the face by the aforementioned substance, cleaned it off with a tissue and told him to “fuck off”. And this was only because I was laughing on the film, then as I watched it, laughing at myself laughing.

This dvd is now hidden away, but I am left with the dilemma of what to do with it. Do I destroy it or keep it for posterity? What if my children find it? What if he has further copies of it? Can I trust him not to post it on the internet somewhere?

I don’t for one minute think anyone would want to watch a middle-aged woman, red-faced and flabby, cavorting on a bed or attempting to peel her bum off a leather sofa, but it is still out there somewhere, ready to pop up on world wide web if that one person chooses to exercise his power and put it there…

 

Check out my blog – drunkenslutmum.co.uk

 

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