Waxing lyrical

I am not a touchy feely person. I do not hug people easily, and being in Europe and offering your cheek up to 3 times is very strange to me. I have to literally force myself to not flinch when I am touched when I am not prepared for it, and it took me a long time to be able to fall asleep with someone wrapped around me. I am pretty good with the girls, I try and be physically affectionate with them and I encourage cuddles as much as possible, because I know that just because they are independent doesn't mean that they don't crave physical contact.

Breastfeeding was the easiest initiation into learning how to touch someone. With a baby curled into you belly to belly, arms cuddled around your breast and hands gently patting or kneading the soft skin it can either induce panic, or luckily for me, gobsmacking, awe-inspiring love and devotion. I would gaze down at the perfect beings suckling from me and be overcome with how much I adored them. I loved (and still do love) that I could cuddle them close, let them drink and literally feel the tension ooze from their tiny little bodies. And in their beautiful repose I felt emboldened to touch their perfect forms. Gently stroking the fine silky dark hair at the back of their heads. Watching their milk drunk faces contort into a sleepy countenance of pleasure as I gently ran my thumb over their eyebrows and eyelids - the dark fan of lashes stark against creamy cheeks.

Caressing their eyes in particular has always soothed them the most - and I know not why I started doing it, but I have noticed that it is an action that lulls me immediately as well. Being stroked gently over my eyelid and brow is like pressing that magic spot that the good guys always know in bad movies that will render their targets motionless. It wasn't until I had warm molten wax gently spread over my eyelid yesterday that I realised how intoxicating that sensation is. Of course it was rudely interrupted by the sharp sting of it being removed, and the pungent smell of teatree oil being applied to reduce any possible irritation.

For someone who is so antipathic about being touched, it amazes me how much I enjoy my monthly visit to the beautician. To have someone smooth near painfully hot wax onto my skin and remove it. But I was contemplating it yesterday while staring up at the ceiling.

Another thing is that I would really like to be someone that gave hugs freely and that others felt comfortable hugging (I know why they don't - because it's hard not to notice me stiffen), because when someone does actually push past my initial reaction it's hard not to enjoy. But that's a metaphor with me in general really. You have to push through to see the past the walls.