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My Hippie Neighbor

The young woman who lives nextdoor to me is a bit of a hippie, a granola, whatever you want to say. She grows her own veggies in her backyard. In the summers, I see her out working in her garden. We wave and sometimes chat. She's often barefoot, and I don't know if she even owns a bra. On hot days, she wears tank tops. It's easy to see the outline of her nipples. When it's hot, she glows with sweat, and when she raises her arms to knot her hair back into a bun, I can see the dew drops of fresh sweat glistening in her underarm hair. With a slight shift of breeze, I catch a whiff of the sweet, tangy scent. She doesn't wear deodorant, and she smells beautiful. It's a smell that's distinct, earthy, like a flower, and not offensive in anyway. It's not at all an old BO stink like a locker room--no, it's like a tomato plant, sweet, pungent, and fresh. I think I may be developing a crush, an innocent crush, on my neighbor.

I've noticed that when I'm out in my garden, I've taken to wearing only thin skirts, and t-shirts or tanks. No bra. No deodorant. Why bother when you know working outside you'll just get sweaty anyway? I've stopped shaving. I feel sexier than I ever have. 

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