Eyed

Eeekk… I feel drowsy Torian…

I just had my Botox injections yesterday, and my armpits hurt like hell. Well… Not really. I just feel weird because I’ve got toxins working in my inner arms, toxins from a kind of bacterium that causes food poisoning and dental problems… I’m talking about Clostridium Botulinum. Yeah, pretty highfaluting. I hope the toxins work for what it was extracted for – to control the activity of my nerves – and not what it was originally capable of doing. Brrrr… The idea of having a pathogen in my system makes me shiver.

So we went in this small clinic of Homer’s. By the way, I do think the name Homer is so fit to this Homer-man because in my “very primitive but reasonable standards”, I think Homer is gay. You know the kind of guy who gets his dark hair highlighted with burgundy or chestnut, who has very fair skin that is pampered with a lot of moisturizers and spa treatment; one who wears his shoulder-length hair with a headband; one who smells like raspberry or cherry or strawberry or whatever wild berry that was domesticated for the purpose of replacing pheromones; one who speaks very softly with an underlying powerful baritone; one who messes with dermatological rudiments; one who cleans his hands with alcohol, antiseptic, hydrogen peroxide, and other liquid germicides; and one who looks like he’s ready to tie you in a very private place like the bed. He was talking very placidly with my mother, and he enjoyed talking about my stuff with her. He always laughed when my mom said that I drink milk even now, that I do eat yogurt, that I’m from UP, that I can get very touchy at times especially with her and *******, that I love my anklet, that I got pierced in the ears because I was… well… getting in trend, and a lot more.

So I waited until the “maternal talk” was over, and when I was finally going for the procedure, Homer was: “Oh anak,” (the maternity factor was influenced by mum) “hubadin mo na yang t-shirt mo”…

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…

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I’ve got to take my shirt off.

Yeah… Of course, why not?

Why not?

Why?

Well, because Homer is GAY! G-A-Y, GAY!

I looked at him and caught the sparkling hazel eyes of his. Then I shivered but to my very great luck, there’s no more option but to expose the private parts of me. Actually, I did not show any signs of hesitation, or I tried not to show any, by taking it off quickly and raising the chin as if waiting for the next command. Then, he began patting certain parts of my very ticklish body. I was so laughing the whole time because he was patting and pressing on very sensitive parts. Anyways, I won’t go down to details, Torian, I just wanted you to know that I was almost harassed by a gay.

When we were finished, he asked me to stand in front of him. I did, and all he did was look at my physique. “Ok na,” he said, and without hesitation, I grabbed my tee and quickly pulled it over my body. I had some difficulty slipping through the neckline, and when my eyes saw the small opening, I caught a glimpse of Homer looking satisfactorily at my tummy – you know, that area… the… the area… the abs?? I haven’t any packs but it is undeniably flat and slightly sculpted and worth looking at (I even lose myself to staring at it for minutes in the mirror)… By chance he was so lucky because I was very naughty-looking that time. My skin was slightly tanned and my hair was still sea-dry and air-wafted. I was wearing my tee that says “CERTIFIED SEX INSTRUCTOR” and my shorts were summery floral and has a fitting waistline that emphasized my shapely abdomen. I was also in slippers, so I had this out-of-beach look that always never failed to serve as an aphrodisiac (??). Huff, so much for the procedure, I now feel light because of the injections, and harassed because of the injector.

Haay, I hope it settles my hormones. Homer said it takes a year before it expires and he was hoping that my hormones were no more erratic when that time comes.

I’m hoping for that too. I can’t imagine undergoing that same procedure again.

That’s it for now, Torian. See yah later…

-eyed-