Mon Inspiration Sensual

Mon Inspiration Sensual

Jowell & Randy & Farruko
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𝖌𝖗𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖒💅🏼🥰
@psalm420

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888 Maya Danielle
@MayaDanielleP

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give me my mf flowers.
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Hannah Faraco
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"This body grew a whole person who means everything to me."
y’all, i bought my first bikini and i love it sooo much 😭 tbh i’ve struggled a lot w my appearance since giving birth to zeke... but this body grew a whole person who means everything to me 💗 so f the haters #mombod
*thirst trap alert*
mom bod appreciation post from last year when i was thinner & tanner
Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. - Mahatma Gandhi
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Who can you forgive today? It may even be yourself. Be strong. Be free.
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#forgiveness #doseofwellness #motivationalquotes #postpartumyoga #postpartumjourney #postpartumbody #mombod #… https://t.co/bffKIfRPfY
Mom bod / milf body appreciation 👀

Much of what makes Serge Gainsbourg’s L’histoire de Melody Nelson so controversial is lost on non-French speakers. Let’s not forget that one of the key reasons ‘Je t’aime moi non plus’ wasn’t immediately banned in the UK was that very few people – least of all the teenagers necking off to it in school halls – actually understood what the hell old Serge was talking about.
Today L’histoire de Melody Nelson is regarded as Gainsbourg’s most incendiary and influential album, not to mention one of the greatest albums in French music history. Clocking in at just 28 minutes, the 1971 studio effort is stylish, sensual and completely immersive. Unlike most conceptual albums, however, it’s surprisingly minimalistic.
Gainsbourg seems to have understood that, as in French cooking, the fewer ingredients one puts in a dish, the better they need to be. By hiring the best sessions musicians he could find, producer Jean-Claude Desmarty helped Gainsbourg craft an album far greater than the sum of its parts. Each track features the same basic setup of guitar, bass, drums, vocals and strings, each of which has been arranged to perfectly compliment its neighbour. Jean-Claude Vannier’s intoxicating strings provide a particularly lush example.
Perhaps even more engaging, however, are Gainsbourg’s smokey spoken-word vocals. His words float above the quiet churn of funk drums and undulating bass as though they’re being whispered directly into the shell of your ear. Perhaps that’s why listening to L’histoire feels like sitting on the priest-side of a confessionary booth, although, to be fair, Gainsbourg doesn’t sound at all guilty.
The story he tells us is a Lolitaesque tale of a middle-aged man who goes out driving and accidentally hits a British girl cycling down the same road. He stops the car and gets out to help her, falling madly in love with his victim. As you would expect from a man whose insatiable sexual hunger was matched only by his appetite for cigarettes, the couple spends the next few weeks madly making love, only leaving the bed when they have to. When the 15-year-old decides to leave and fly home to England, however, the man performs an African Cargo Cult ritual in the hope that she’ll return. Sadly, this act of mysticism has the undesired effect of causing her plane to crash.
Serge’s lyrics are, it has to be said, some of the most beautiful and poetic of his entire career. Although to the modern ear they do indeed appear to glorify paedophilia – an accusation that would be levelled against Gainsbourg after the release of ‘Lemon Incest’ years later. It’s worth noting that at the time L’histoire came out, Gainsbourg was in a relationship with Jane Birkin – a woman 20 years his junior. She appears on the album cover dressed only in denim bellbottoms, clutching a stuffed toy to cover her breasts.
Clearly, Gainsbourg had no intention of distracting listeners’ attention from the album’s controversial subject matter. You can revisit L’histoire de Melody Nelson below.

I take off my jammies, turn on the shower, and step into the warm water. Ahhhhh, heavenly. While I wet my hair, I start thinking about blog post ideas. Hmmm . . . What do I want to write about next . . .
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“Mama, can I make some orange juice?”
“Sure. Just use the pitcher that’s on the counter.” “Okay, thanks.”
I pour the shampoo into my hand. All right. What’s something most moms can relate to? Oh yeah, I could write about . . .
“Mom, do you know where the white iPad is?”
I start to wash my hair, then remember something.
“Hold up! Did you do your algebra homework?”
“No. I forgot to write down the problems we were supposed to do.”
“Soooo . . . you’re just not going to do it?”
“Sweetie, this is when you get on the horn and call one of your friends and see if they wrote down the assignment.” “The horn?”
Yes, I know. I’m full of good ideas. Especially in the shower. Pouring the conditioner into my hand. Okay. What was that idea I had as I was drifting off to sleep last night? Oh, I think it was . . .
“Mama? The orange juice says, ‘No sugar added.'”
“Does that mean I should add sugar?”
“No, that just means . . . No. We always get orange juice with no sugar added.”
Rinsing out the conditioner. Shoot. That idea’s totally gone now. Maybe I should go back to that post I started a while ago . . .
“Mommy! I need you! Reading Eggs is all messed up!”
“Ask Daddy or your sister to help you.”
“Well, I can’t help you with the computer when I’m in the shower, so you’re going to have to be patient until I get out. Or you can ask somebody else.”
Washing my body. Hmmm. I had that post about modesty started, but that’ll take some time to fini . . . KNOCK KNOCK.
“ Mama? What-times-what makes 35?” “Think it through, sweets. It ends in a five, so what-times-five equals 35?” “Three times five?” “Are you serious?” “Oh, duh. Seven. Thanks.” For the love. Starting to shave my legs. Okay, blog post ideas . . . KNOCK KNOCK.
“Mama! Mama! I want to show you something!”
“Can I show it to you when you get out?”
“FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, PEOPLE! I’M IN THE SHOWER! I’LL BE OUT IN A MINUTE!!”
Shaving armpits. Okay, hurry up, inspiration. KNOCK KNOCK.
KNOCK KNOCK. I know you’re around here somewhere.
“Mama? Are you out of the shower yet?”
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Annie writes about life, motherhood, world issues, beautiful places, and anything else that tickles her brain. On good days, she enjoys juggling life with her husband and homeschooling her children. On bad days, she binges on chocolate chips and dreams of traveling the world alone.
My kids are grown now, but I remember those days well. Thanks for reminding me. Eventually they do grow up and leave home. It is such a pleasure seeing one’s children become wonderful adults.
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Hi! I'm Annie Reneau. I have three kids, insatiable wanderlust, and a wicked love for coffee.
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