Categorie archief: Reboot

images (2)

Read my diary; What it’s like to be the ultimate mistress, live a movie star life, quote sex workers, and totally crush all your weight issues

Hi! I started writingimages (2) a diary August 2017, and well…. I think I m done for this year!
No idea when the next entry will go up either.
If you want to make sure you don’t miss out, you need to get me on facebook
or hang out on twitter.
Because oftentimes diary entries go out months before I post them here, on this blog.
A third option is to sign up for my private mailing here on this page-
The private mailing is an overview and a personal letter and goes out every four weeks or so.
So enjoy this long read of everything I ve created for you, and see you on the other side in 2018.

REBOOT diary overview 2017

Episode 1 Atomic blonde
How project Reboot came about, and what the movie Atomic Blonde had to do with it.

Episode 2 The Return of Benjamin
Where I meet a ghost from the past. A handsome one.

Episode 3 Reinvention
Where I work out the pros and cons of becoming a high functioning alcoholic.

Episode 4 Forces of Nature
In this post; sex with Mister Big, healing myself, and how a prostitute has inspired my to do yoga.

929a495cf8b8e42436e862b628bc3b73--scarlett-johansson-photoshoot-james-whiteEpisode 5 Mistress
Lauren gives book readings, sees friends, and just generally goes around like any normal aspiring writer. Which is of course a recipe for disaster.

Episode 6 The dominant
Lauren is still involved with Mr.Big, a married man. And in the lee of her planned out workweek, she starts to understand the underlying dynamics of their affair. And all the forces that seem to be working in her favor.

Episode 7 Rafael’s wrap up
Lauren finds her true calling and treats herself to a night out;
the five year anniversary with celebrity and muse Rafael.

Episode 8 The heroine
Diary entry with erotic story ending.
Lauren is on her first real date with Big in months, and she’s reminded of her early beginnings as a mistress. She has rocked being the third woman since high school.

frm3540-zw-w kopie kleinon 18/19 December I also wrote a yoga book {free version} :
White Tigress Yoga.
For anyone who had a decent chance of staying healthy but screwed it up and now needs something that works. Fast.

That was it!

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living
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Reboot. Episode 8 The heroine

black-widow-avengers-ultronThe only thing that’s ever sustained me,
that’s ever made up for the degree to which everything otherwise seems pointless and mean and wrong,
are intense and mysterious emotional experiences that stick in my soul until I can work them into something beautiful.
 Charlotte Shane – Prostitute Laundry

Diary entry with erotic story ending. 
Lauren is on her first real date with Big in months, and she’s reminded of her early beginnings as a mistress. She has rocked being the third woman since high school. 

Saturday December 23, 2017

Big asked me what I had looked like, at seventeen.
The age where I had my first affair with someone who was already involved with someone else. It had lasted for over six months and I had ended it because we were only making out, and rubbed a bit. Usually fully clothed. Whereas I had been ready for real sex before my real boyfriend had dumped me right before my (our!) 17th birthday. And before we could share that first time together.
The ex did have his first time sex before his (and mine!) 17th birthday. With someone else.
Leaving me not just heartbroken, but a virgin as well. Which I probably found even more unforgivable. So the clock was ticking as to exactly HOW MUCH he had beaten me to the punch. Of exactly HOW MUCH he had hurt me. And although I was absolutely devastated, like any teen receiving a blow like that, I was also drawing a line at turning eighteen a virgin.
My virginity was the painful evidence that I had been dumped.
I needed it gone.
So although I adored my secret make-out buddy (secret meaning our entire school knew but not his girlfriend), I took matters into my own hand. I said yes to a guy who was four years older than me.
He wasn’t a player.
He had lived together with his previous girlfriend and now owned his own apartment. He could cook, possessed the basic skills of keeping his house clean and he had two cats. He was exactly the drama-free boyfriend I was looking for.
And he stayed a great boyfriend. I left him three years later, but only because I wanted more excitement. Not because he had let me down in any other way than the one I could have predicted from the start.
It wasn’t until recently that I remembered that there had been someone before this three year long carefree relationship.
Someone important I mean.
Because I had kissing sessions with a variety of men. Two of them were gay. They were my favorite, and the only ones I would do reruns with, aside from the cheating guy. Big asked me that as well; how many men I had kissed.
This was after we had a conversation about how many women he had slept with, a topic I had never thought I would be able to handle.
But that had been years ago.
Now it aroused me.
Anyway, he asked me how many men I had kissed and I laughed. And then he asked me if I still knew all their names. And I laughed again.
There were so many.
I never felt kissing counted for anything.
I mean other than a test if you wanted to go further. I also told Big I had some really strange experiences too; That sometimes the kissing had been amazing, and yet I had felt no desire to go further. What I didn’t tell was that sometimes the kissing had been terrible and yet I had pursued. And not without getting satisfying results in all other areas.
I ve never had bad sex in my life. I ve never misjudged sexual chemistry. But in retrospect I can say that my “kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince” logic was not a hundred percent accurate. Someone could be a prince in bed, when kissing like a frog. And someone could kiss like a bonafide prince, and I would still not take it further.
It was all very weird.
But I do like kissing, and maybe it did give me the right information since I never ended up with someone between the sheets that didn’t work out.
Anyway I was telling you about the cheating guy/mistress situation that I had apparently already worked myself into, age seventeen. This was such an eye opener to me! I knew that I was good at this whole being a mistress thing.
It suits my sexual preferences of wanting to be monogamous myself, but needing a guy I can admire and who I feel is sexually active with other women.
For starters with his wife.
Honestly, I feel that this aspect of sexual orientation – which basically comes down to preying on second hand sexual energy but being unable to digest it in its raw form (hence the monogamy on my own part) – is highly interesting! It has been the biggest takeaway from being a mistress.
Because that’s the third question Big asked me;
“What have you learned, these three years?”
I answered;
“That I am monogamous. That I like being committed to you.
But that I also need you to have other women. I need you to bring in that energy.”
I told Big the story of the cheating guy when I was seventeen. And that the most remarkable aspect of our liaison, was the group of friends in which it was embedded. Five guys and two girls, one of them was me. We went to each others birthday parties, we hang out on Fridays after school. We kept each other’s secrets.
When it was his birthday, he asked us over, and we all went.
His girlfriend was there.
I didn’t rat him out, nor did his friends. None of us did. We had a watertight pact of friendship and camaraderie. Our make-out sessions had not just created a bond between him and me. It closed the deal for our entire group.
Mister Big was cooking us dinner. Maybe that’s why we did so much talking. It was nice way to bond because it had been so long since we’d been together properly. With plenty of time, privacy and me not being in my period. With the prospect of having real all the way sex. Not just all the stuff I could do keeping my panties on.
The talking about sex and our relationship was foreplay.
We were taking accountability for our sins.
Just like the steak he made us; an animal had been killed to feed us. It was a mortal sin. One that bonded us.
Yesterday I saw the Last Jedi, the latest Star Wars movie. And it wasn’t until I was there, watching the high voltage sexual tension between bad guy Kylo Ren and good girl Rey, that I understood the full power of secrets, and dark stuff.
Understood why that group of friends formed a tight bond around the cheating of one of its members.
Why the affair between Big and me feels so sturdy, and forever growing stronger. Every rendez vous adding another layer to it.
First I thought it was the secretiveness of it. That shame, danger and fear are simply better building materials than love and transparency.
But the movie made me realize it was something else. And that it had been something else for three years. That it had been something else way back in the days when I was just seventeen.
And that this insight, this knowledge, was the reason that any affair born in the darkness has a lot higher chance of surviving than the one created in the light.
Like I said; it’s not that secrets and sins perse create a better bond. It’s because in relationships born from darkness, secretiveness and mortal sins, everything is included.
Everything is loved.
Someone’s light and someone’s darkness.
We love, accept, embrace, sit through it if we must – twice as much from each other. That’s why we, the sinners, create such strong ties.
We bond on what makes us good, and we bond over what makes us evil.
It’s the same reason in Star Wars the good guys have a lot worse time than the bad guys.
The good guys only accept their good deeds, and are ashamed if they fuck up, or have fucked up. Whereas if a bad guy fucks it up, he’s just sorry the job didn’t get done. He accepts everything from himself. The good and the bad.
Accepting all sides of yourself is the path to ultimate power.
Accepting all sides of the other is the path to ultimate love.
It’s not that within our relationship, or within ourselves, Big and me are all evil. We don’t like hurting others. But if that’s the way it has to happen in order to get something we want, we’ll do it.
It’s collateral damage.
Like the animal that had to be killed for our steak.
 An extra marital affair (and being good at it) means that we accept each other’s dark side. I fully accept him cheating and lying. And he accepts me needing other women, to be around somewhere. In order to stay fulfilled.
Me needing that second hand sexual energy.
Him needing that first hand sexual experience of having multiple partners.
And on top of this, we bond the same way other couples do. In the same magnetic, emotional, breath-takingly beautiful way we all do.
Or at least I do, ever since I got myself a proper boyfriend age seventeen.
I was sitting on top of Big, my feet next to his hips, sinking into the black leather of the couch. He was sitting up straight, embracing me as I lowered and he entered. Shallow fucking. I buried my face in his neck and sobbed. I said it was like I couldn’t feel how much I loved him until he was inside of me. He comforted me and kept fucking me in that same, light, way that seemed to draw out every emotion that had been bottling up, all the months I had missed this.
It all came out.
I don’t think I ever cried so much especially not during sex so gentle and loving. After he came we lied together, in silence. I had my eyes closed to absorb every moment. In my imagination so did he.
His body felt warm and heavy.
“I had red hair,” I said. “Wavy. Down to my shoulders. I wore black clothes. Always. And I had porcelain skin and wore red lipstick.”

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living
get me on facebook
hang out on twitter

You can find my 10 books in my shop.
standard 25% off!! (my gift to you)

recommended for UK and US readers, the book about the first two years of my affair with Mr.Big; Big, erotica and diaries (2017)

aanbevolen boek NL:
Het boek Benjamin, verzameld werk Engels en Nederlands
Het verzameld werk is inclusief Big- het Engelstalige dagboek over mijn affaire met Mr.Big

Witte Tijgerin (€5) en Het Boek Benjamin (€45) zijn ook te koop bij de Feeks 
Zij regelen ook de online bestellingen.

Als je yogales bij me volgt in Nijmegen kan ik het ook voor je meenemen naar de les.


Reboot. Episode 7 Rafael’s wrap up

00-holding-scarlett-johansson-5-thingsI found thinking about him comforting.
 Charlotte Shane – Prostitute Laundry

Lauren finds her true calling and treats herself to a night out;
the five year anniversary with celebrity and muse Rafael.

Saturday December 9, 2017 

I feel like this is the last thing I ll write this year.
Which is bullshit because even if nothing exciting will happen, and 2017 just finishes without anything noteworthy – I can and most likely will, write for my Dutch book Maitresse and my yoga and lifestyle book, or books, White Tigress.
But I mean the diary. That I won’t have anything to write in here. That you won’t see me, until the next emotional high or low. And it has to be so impressive that I will sacrifice writing on those other books, or my yoga work, in order to get the story out.
I don’t see that happening. My life is exceptionally quiet. And exceptionally wonderful. Because I really did find my calling, in the troublesome week between my book reading and Rafael’s show. By the time he came to see me, after his show, my life had already fallen into place. There was nothing more I needed. Not from him. Not from Mr.Big.
I was free.
These were the events that lead to this Zen state of mind, starting with the book reading. Which went perfectly well. It was something I had wanted to experience. Was I any good at giving them? Did I enjoy it? Did I lack any skills or would anything unforeseen pop up? At first it seemed like it wouldn’t.
In fact I loved the reading so much, that I was convinced I would go professional, and get myself gigs for this. Until I collapsed, into what someone once described as “A dark night of the soul” Mine was not that dark, but I did get sick, followed by five days in which I felt unstable, ashamed and desperately tried to figure things out.
I deciphered the problem to its core, threw away all the elements I didn’t like, and then I clicked the remaining pieces together.
Which, unexpectedly, made the perfect fit.
By the time I met Rafael I had full clarity on The Big Picture. I knew how I was going to thrive at being a writer, and a yoga teacher, without collapsing in the middle of my work week. It basically came down to a clean cut; Yoga on weekdays, LS Harteveld on weekends. But with a massive tweak. Which was that I was going to stop pretending I was a normal yoga teacher and I was going to write from the heart for the studio.
I cancelled my entire existing media program which had been way too plain and generic. And in the ten hours that were freed up by that, I started writing real stuff.
From the heart.
I completely stripped away any feeling of “this is how a normal column promoting a yoga studio should look like” and just went for it. I wrote. Daily. I hustled, promoted my yoga. And it worked. Even though I wasn’t really counting on it to take immediate effect, because these things take time.
People may not immediately recognize you as the most fun, unorthodox yoga studio from the city. And even if they do, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s their preferred flavor.
They may turn away and prefer generic yoga instead.
Which is totally cool.
So when I already had actual results within days, it was more than I had counted on. I would have been satisfied with merely my newly found joy in writing for the studio.
I had stopped pretending to be a normal yoga teacher who only blogs or does social media because that’s required this day and age. I showed I loved doing it. That I was writing because it lit me up from the inside.
And no longer stuff that any copy writer or any other yoga teacher could have written. Not anymore. The writing for the studio – just like teaching itself – had become purpose work, soul work. I basically chose to see myself as a badass, writing yoga teacher first. LS Harteveld hobby writer second.
LS Harteveld was marginalized – giving her only the weekends which often didn’t start before Friday 8 pm. That may sound like a cruel thing to do, but in reality, once I started speaking my truth for the yoga studio, the urge to speak What I Really Think here- as Miss Harteveld – was eliminated.
And the remaining writing for LS Harteveld went really well.
I would easily churn out ten thousand words in diary entries, private mailings, blog posts. And still see friends and family.
Many people will find my new week/weekend structure too compartmentalized, but for me it is wonderful. It takes all the pressure off LS Harteveld. On the weekends I will sleep in and only write if I feel called to do so. Which apparently I do.
But I am free as a bird to spend my weekends the way I want to.
And it was with this new found freedom that I saw Rafael’s new show. Rafael has been my muse since 2012, so it was our five year anniversary.
I now see this long period of being his fan, as entirely logic. It fits with my sexual preference, which is that I m a mistress;
I am monogamous, and I like distance. It’s space for me to admire and literally muse over a man. For me a man has way more value as an unattainable muse, than as a reliable partner. And being a monogamist, one man has more value than a series of men. Which I find confusing and tiresome.
That’s the reason I m still with my lover Big, with whom I ve been with for three years. And it’s the reason I’m happy being a fan of Rafael.
I feel emotionally moved by them, and they make great muses.
So I went to see Rafael’s show and I m afraid I sucked up every word, every gesture, every second of his stage time. I forgot when the last show was before this but I m guessing 2015. But it was too long… And it had the same effect as not seeing Mr.Big for a long time. I was thrown between an accusatory;
“How could you do this to me!”
And the bittersweet knowledge that all the waiting had eventually only fueled the pleasure. Made the moment more memorable.
Rafael and I sat opposite to each other.
We talked about his show and his upcoming book, and just general stuff on the professional side of things. But there was also something else. Something that I will not reveal here, because it was private. But it bore a remarkable resemblance to me having hid my real personality as a yoga teacher. So that no one would get mad. Me before coming to terms with, and ultimately fully owning the fact that I m a mistress, even though practically every woman I speak to responds with either;
“How can you do this to his wife?”
“I can’t understand you do this to yourself.”
I m not doing anything to myself. This is who I am. And if things end with Mr.Big I ll either look for another married man, or if he’s available, I ll make sure that he understands that keeping me interested will include spending quality time with me, just as much as spending time away from me. In which I want him to appear busy with his own life, to not bother me, and to be absolutely fucking thrilled if we meet again. I want him to only share things about his other women for the single purpose of turning me on. Not because we’re going to have an honest and open conversation about it, or because he’s oversharing. That’s cruel. I want him to be totally devoted to exactly what it is I want, to what arouses me, to what I want to hear. And at the same time I want him to regularly create vast distances between us, which I can fill with writing; With dreaming; With creating, and recreating, the image of him I hold in my head.
That’s what’s it gonna take.
In a similar fashion, Rafael was doing a great job as my muse. But he was holding out. I could feel it. In the same way I had been afraid, and was still afraid at times, that being a mistress would get me killed. That someone would put a knife between my ribs because I had sex with a married man. Until ultimately I had decided that stepping into my true power, was more important than being scared. That I couldn’t keep hiding forever. That I had to accept that this was who I was. That yes, there was a betrayed wife in the equation, and that I was probably a monster for needing other women somewhere, around a potential partner, in order to give him the light of day.
But it was simply who I was.
I knew there was power into totally stepping into that role. And well… Rafael had something like that going on. And I pointed that out, that maybe, he was meant for greater things. That maybe, the time to play safe was over.
That maybe, it was time to step into his power, and face whatever the consequences might be because in reality, keeping all that stuff within will do you even more damage.
It’s a life not lived.
It’s a calling not heard.
Five years ago, I read Rafael’s book. It was a mixture between fiction and facts, where he becomes the prime minister of the Netherlands. In years that followed he withdrew from the idea that this was a real goal, or calling.
But writing this post now, a week after having this conversation with Rafael, I realize that even our undocumented conversation really comes down to me believing that he was meant for great things.
My belief that the fictional novel associating him with politics, was actually his true calling. That me pushing him to step into his power now – about the topic I won’t share – is related to me insisting he was writing his own future with that novel.
His own heart’s calling.
That he wasn’t just meant for greater things, he might have been meant to become the greatest thing.
That in reality, self-deprecating Rafael, bore all the markings of a great leader.

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living
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Rafael is in the English books;
LS Diary (€10)
Bedtime Stories (€ 15)
Mirage (€ 5)

aanbevolen boek NL:
Het boek Benjamin, verzameld werk Engels en Nederlands
Dit Boek Benjamin (€45),
mijn verzameld werk inclusief de boeken over Rafael, die in het echt Johan Fretz heet.
is ook te koop bij de Feeks 
Zij regelen ook de online bestellingen.

Als je yogales bij me volgt in Nijmegen kan ik het ook voor je meenemen naar de les.

Reboot. Episode 6 The dominant


It wasn’t really about sex as a genital experience. It was about sex as revelation, illumination of connection amid chaos.
Charlotte Shane – Prostitute Laundry

Lauren is still involved with Mr.Big, a married man. And in the lee of her planned out workweek, she starts to understand the underlying dynamics of their affair. And all the forces that seem to be working in her favor.

The Triangle
Monday November 27, 2017

t’s Monday morning, and in the wake of my epiphany to focus on my White Tigress and The Mistress work, I already feel accomplished. 
I still suffer from insecurity though.
For days on end, many socially awkward things happened. Which I did not share because it had made me insecure and I didn’t want to give them more power than they already had.
Or maybe I didn’t want to verbalize them until I knew what their common demeanor was.
What lesson could be learned.
In retrospect I think it was just a sign I did not have clarity yet, that I should speak ONLY about those two topics.
White Tigress and Mistress.
That’s it.
And the rest of my writing will just have to sell itself. Or not. It’s completely irrelevant if it does or doesn’t.
I’m on my self-imposed weekday fasting from writing, but obviously that’s only working marginally. I’ve closed down my Twitter and I ll limit myself to diary entries like this one.
But nevertheless ideas keep flowing.
Yesterday I wrote the first chapter to my Dutch Mistress work,but this morning ideas for the upcoming chapters just fell into my lap.
I immediately scribbled them down in my notebook.
One of the key insights is how the love triangle, formed by the mistress, the man, and his spouse, may be the most important reason these types of affairs can last that long. I ve heard of liaisons lasting for decades.
They ve definitely seemed harder to break.
It’s like this triangular formation has its own will to live. Just like groups do.
That’s why group dynamics are so strong because the group uses any means nessecary to survive. It doesn’t accommodate the needs of the individual members; its primal concern is the survival of the group.
This could be the case in our love triangle.
It’s a separate entity, and one we all feed with our energy, both positive and negative. A fight between my lover and his wife will be absorbed by the triangle, just as swiftly as our last full-on session making love.
Which was months ago, unfortunately.
But it was never something I interpreted as a sign to doubt the strength of what we were having.
Seems now, I was right.

Thursday December 7

Scarlett-Johansson-Workout-RoutineThis is probably the messiest diary in the history of memoirs.
I have a notebook filled with breakthrough thoughts that changed my life for the better over the past ten days. Five pages of scribbling on my night with muse Rafael. And two on what the upcoming chapter of my Dutch book Maitresse (Mistress) should be about.
Oh, and I have a personal rule in place which makes diary writing on weekdays a mortal sin against being a fulltime yoga teacher. It’s simply not allowed.
And then what do I do?
I come to you with a new insight, on a moment I should be writing for my yogabiz. And I m forsaking all my other self-imposed rules such as keeping this diary organized and to log events in the correct chronological order.
So let this be messy.
And let it be quick.
But yesterday I got such a profound extra insight in the mental makeup of a Good Mistress – and key to why I thrive at this relationship form when it would simply destroy most women.
The key is; powerplay.
It started when I was explaining to a friend how I had chosen the Dutch title Maitresse, over the word Minnares (both translate to Mistress in English).
I said I thought they meant the same, although technically Maitresse may be exclusive to mistresses who are kept/ financially supported. He said that I should look that up, because the remarkable thing about my life’s choice was that there was no financial gain of any kind.
I was totally independent.
So I did. I Googled the two Dutch words Maitresse and Minnares, to see if there was a difference. There wasn’t. But I did read one of the articles describing the relationship between a mistress and her lover, and the title just clicked;
“Being a mistress; He dominates.”
I ll be damned!
Now, I ve never made a secret about my preference to be dominated in bed. In fact, being spoiled rotten the last three years with Mr.Big, I m pretty sure I ve reached the stage where I m no longer able to have sex if it doesn’t include me getting play raped, and getting my boundaries pushed or even violated in the most delicious, intrusive way imaginable.
It reminds me of a game I used to play within my long-term relationship. God that seems like a lifetime ago.. But he realized I would do anything, any assignment, if he said it was (roughly translated) a “horny assignment”.
From taking out the trash to buying a porno dvd for him; it truly didn’t matter. As long as he said I had to do it, and that it was a horny assignment.
And my current lover Mr.Big and me, have always been very aware that me wanting to be ordered around, and him wanting to be dominant, was a golden match in the bedroom. Probably the reason why we don’t get enough of each other. We could become one of those mistress/ lover couples that last a lifetime, simply because we’ve both been so hungry for this. Now I shouldn’t speak for him of course. And I do give him credit for being a talented adjuster to whatever is required. His sexuality, what he will do with you, is a mirror image of what the woman desires. But having said that, I do have strong indicators that being dominant is at the core of who he is.
And I simply know that being submissive -in a non-leathery BDSM kind of way-is who I am. Sure, I can do versatile, I can do dominant. But it’s merely killing time until something or someone better comes along.
It’s a favor. Not true love.
Mr.Big and me have always been aware of this powerplay in the bedroom, but I had never realized the extra marital relationship itself had this pull on me, for exactly the same reason.
That being his secret lover was working the same submissive kink.
Over the years I ve been able to identify many strong and unusual preferences in myself, either sexually or relationship wise. But I had managed to miss this one.
In the late nineties, I was fan of Eric Roberts. He’s almost like the wicked (and definitely more interesting) twin to Julia Roberts. Except that they re not twins. He’s her estranged brother. But wicked he is.
In an interview he talked about his marriage, and he said that the key to a good marriage was that he was dominant in the bedroom.
Everything else his wife could have.
But in the bedroom the roles were traditionally divided.
I read this, and although I liked the idea of giving myself totally to Eric Roberts, there was something unsettling about it. Maybe it’s even the reason that after two decades I still remember him having said that in the first place. Something, in this recipi for a good marriage, turned me off… But what was it?
Now I know what it was; that a real sub needs a partner to be dominant all of the time. I don’t want anything to say, period.
And there is a reason for that!
Because pain, in the broadest sense of the word, arouses me.
For example; I like that Mr.Big has sex with other women. It turns me on. But the real reason it turns me on, is because it hurts.
I do feel the pain of being apart, or of having to spend important days without him. It does hurt me less than it would to other people, because I do have a giant inner-hermit. She’s the one who writes, and cares little for company.
But sure, she’d love to put down her pen to play sex slave to Mr.Big, far more often than she does now. But all in all, being alone from New Years day, and all other holidays from there on forth? It’s not affecting me the way it could be expected.
There this masochistic sweetness in the pain of not being his first.
Of not being his priority.
But even when that pain can no longer be tied to pleasure, and the uncomfortable starts to feel like the unbearable, and a wounded ego roars its ugly head, demanding to be looked after. Demanding a man of her own.
Even then!
Something else comes into play. And it’s exactly the mechanism that makes a real BDSM slave take more pain, and endure more humiliation.
Like a fucking God.
The knowledge that you, a consenting submissive, cannot be harmed. That physical or mental pain makes you stronger. Both types of pain do the same thing; They make you turn inside. They’re like mental silent seclusion. You have nowhere to solve this, but inside.
Either you find a way to neutralize this pain, and refind your calm, or you bail out and the game is over.
Sure I can go find a man for myself, who will stop hurting me and will attend to all my needs. To all my superficial needs anyway. But come on! In the end, my need to be challenged, and the euphoria of being able to go so far beyond what used to be my limits – is much bigger than my desire to have someone with me on Christmas eve.
They say it is never the dominant who is in charge. It is the submissive. The dominant is the one working his or her ass off in order to please the submissive.
Sometimes it’s a paid relationship; the dominant mistress gets paid to hurt and abuse the paying client.
But even when it’s a coincidental pairing, where like I said no one gets paid and we have no financial ties, I feel like I m the one getting so much out of this.
Every minute he’s not with me, is either a chance to feel intrigued, and be turned on or it is an opportunity to grow. To learn to act confidently, face whatever dark thought or self-doubt is triggered this time.
And give it a fucking wink.

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living
get me on facebook
hang out on twitter

You can find my 10 books in my shop.
standard 25% off!! (my gift to you)

recommended for UK and US readers, the book about my affair with Mr.Big;
Big, erotica and diaries (2017)

aanbevolen boek NL:
Witte Tijgerin +
Het boek Benjamin, verzameld werk Engels en Nederlands
Het verzameld werk is inclusief Big- het Engelstalige dagboek over mijn affaire met Mr.Big

Witte Tijgerin (€5) en Het Boek Benjamin (€45) zijn ook te koop bij de Feeks 
Zij regelen ook de online bestellingen.

Als je yogales bij me volgt in Nijmegen kan ik het ook voor je meenemen naar de les.

Reboot. Episode 5 Mistress


I realized I’m most effective and focused
when I give myself a project.

Charlotte Shane – Prostitute Laundry


Lauren gives book readings, sees friends, and just generally goes around like any normal aspiring writer.
Which is of course a recipe for disaster.

Saturday November 25, 2017

I have many beliefs and one of them is that if doesn’t feel good, it’s not good. It’s not your path, not your match, not the thing you came here for on this earth.
Yet at the first sign resistance I find myself rationalizing why I should – and do – continue anyway. I don’t even seriously look for alternatives, as if there is some kind of medal for pushing things uphill.
But this time I received clarity before I got a chance to get lost.
It all started with my first book reading.
On my only available weeknight – the only one off from teaching – I read at a local bookstore. I had made a selection of stories, and tied them together to a theme that suited the occasion. Afterwards I went out with friends who had come to see me; and by Thursday I was convinced giving public presentations was my new mission in life. And I had the whole thing on video! I would win people’s hearts putting this recording on my deserted YouTube channel, and it would help me to get booked.
Everything was absolutely great.
Until it all came crashing down.
Before the sun set I was so sick I had to cancel all my classes. I was terribly angry with myself for having done this public reading experiment on a weeknight. Any backlash would immediately impact my real work.
These were not the kind of risks I was willing to take in order to get my books read. There was no weekly energy budget that said; “For public readings”, or even for any PR for my books.
My LS Harteveld writing had already been colonizing on my workweek, and if I would expand to readings it would get even more out of hand for something I called a hobby.
Because I liked being a yoga teacher.
I had no intention of switching careers. Until summer the two occupations had been able to peacefully coexist, but now I was up till my ears designing my new studio program.
It was running its first edition and everything still had to be created. It was costing me ten to fifteen hours of extra desk work, every week. July 2018 I would be able to publish two studio manuals. I assumed the Harteveld writing and the work for the studio would settle back into place after that.
But I was currently I working crazy hour workweeks for the studio alone, and I didn’t have a minute to spare.
And on the weekends?!
Did I honestly believe that after a forty hour workweek for the studio, diligently refraining from LS Harteveld work, I would want to spend the weekend giving public readings?
I would want to throw myself head first into my writing Friday night, thirsty, needy, growling at anything that got in my way. And I would ignore all options presented to me, of cultural agendas and fun stuff planned. I did make an effort not to be a total hermit and went on dates with friends. But I would always work up until the last second at my beloved desk, rush, run and hurry and still be late for our date. I would enjoy it but not without secretly longing for the moment I could get back to my desk again.
I could see where I had make a mistake in my reasoning.
Because the night of the reading I had literally said;
“It’s been so much fun! It really feels as good as free time.”
I had completely overlooked that I don’t have a need for free time. I engage on it on a therapeutic basis.
And I had a quick nightmarish thought of going back to making videos, in order to get in front of people without having to leave the house, until I realized I didn’t want to do that either.
All I want to do is write.
August 2018 my new yoga program is all laid out and from then on I ll have ten to fifteen hours a week available to promote my LS Harteveld work. And I know exactly what I ll focus on. I know my true mission, and what every reading I ll ever give for the rest of my life will be about.
And it’s going to be awesome.
I ll tell you tomorrow.

To work
Sunday November 26

467full-scarlett-johansson Fifteen hours and counting.
I think I broke my productivity record this weekend. I wrote a Dutch blogpost about the upcoming show of my muse Rafael;
mailed my private list;
wrote the diary entry as featured above;
and I just completed the first chapter of my upcoming book about my mistresshood; Maîtresse
Which is one of the two Dutch words for mistress. It’s funny; usually Dutch needs more words, where English is more specific. But with mistress it’s the other way around. In English mistress can mean both a dominatrix or a lover. In Dutch we have two words- maîtresse, straight from French, and minnares – and they both mean lover. I chose the French one.
I actually saw daylight too! And got exercise. I had a long bike ride because I had a lunch date with my mother, an uncle and two aunts. They were by foot, and I would meet them halfway in their walk, at a fairy-tale like restaurant. It’s hidden deep into the woods, and there is only an unpaved road.
I arrived there half an hour late, but they were even longer delayed. Our mobiles didn’t work, making it even more nostalgic. I chose a pancake with more topping than a Domino’s pizza. It was really good, but I couldn’t help but think;
“This counts as dinner! This saves me time in the kitchen, so I can work more!”
A work addiction is such thing of beauty!
Anyway, so I actually saw daylight, exercised and also did something social. Which is an exceptional score for me. Otherwise the whole weekend was just write, write, write. The way I like it. And I even skipped my a.m. journaling and mindset practice, which includes writing down a Charlotte Shane quote in my diary. My real diary! Not some notebook reserved for mindset work, that I ll toss when I m done with it. I m actually giving her a spot in the most precious diary of all, that will be filed when it’s full. Which is not for a long time, I don’t write much there lately. Everything either goes straight in here, or it stays undocumented.
But I was going to tell you my purpose work!
What it was that the book reading, the rebound, fallout, whatever you want to call it, made me realize. That I m NOT a normal author who wants to promote her work. My books, like this diary Reboot that you re reading right now, have served their purpose once written. I ll make an effort to make it nice, do some editing, and publish it.
 I m extremely proud of all my books. 
But I don’t need more work, promoting them. But I did realize that I do have a message. That my vision on solitary women with multiple sex partners (White Tigress) as well as my vision on being a mistress (solitary women with only one partner) is unique and dearly missing from the options we give ourselves as women.
And I do want to write, and message, and perform or talk about that.
I don’t know how many speaking gigs I ll be able to squeeze in with my regular work – but we ll see when the time comes. For now I ll just focus on creating my core work, my message.
I already have the Dutch White Tigress/ Witte Tijgerin guide, and I m currently translating it to English. And as I said, I started my Dutch Mistress guide today. Once I finish it I ll translate that to English as well.
I m going to give the White Tigress/ Mistress project my full attention and launch January 19.
Oh to hell with it… I ll do another book reading!
After all, it’s a Friday.
If I crash and burn the next day, no one will notice.

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

nieuw Nederlands blog Zeg maar Lauren

You can find my 10 books in my shop.
standard 25% off!! (my gift to you)

recommended for UK and US readers;
Big, erotica and diaries (2017)

aanbevolen boek NL:
Witte Tijgerin +
Het boek Benjamin, verzameld werk Engels en Nederlands

Witte Tijgerin (€5) en Het Boek Benjamin (€45) zijn ook te koop bij de Feeks 
Zij regelen ook de online bestellingen.
Als je yogales bij me volgt in Nijmegen kan ik het ook voor je meenemen naar de les.

Reboot. Episode 4 Forces of Nature


In this post; sex with Mister Big, healing myself, and how a prostitute has inspired my to do yoga.

The Drought
Saturday November 4, 2017

I missed my period.
I m ten to fourteen days late, and I can’t be pregnant because I didn’t have sex. Not intercourse anyway. I did give a blowjob to my lover; an act Mr Big can ask of me any time. Not that he would, because he’s way too concerned for my needs to propose anything if I stop things during foreplay.
I think one of the reasons I m a good lover is because I never had sex with him when I didn’t want to.
I was about to, once. It’s a moment I remember vividly, probably because I used it for an erotic story. We went to his apartment and we were already turned on. But when I was naked and we were about to go further i felt I wasn’t so hot anymore. Or that the brief foreplay had been insufficient to warm me up.
I had not said a word yet Mister Big stopped immediately.
He looked into my eyes and he said:
“What do you want?”
Not in an irritated way, like: “AARRRGGH! What do you want THIS time?!”
But in a sensual;, “I m here for you, you can trust me,” kind of way.
As if those four words meant:
“Tell me your most deviant fantasies, and I ll make them come true.”
At least that’s how I interpreted it, but it takes two to tango of course.
Mister Big told me on more than one occasion he’s not into young women. Which must not be interpreted as some sort of hard limit, of who is welcome in his bed.
Just that’s he’s aware that it’s much easier to have good sex with a mature women. Same reason I call myself a “recovered” cougar:
It’s extremely straining to date below 30.
The older partner has to make sure there is emotional safely, and guard how far things can go, depending on who is the weakest link.
In my case, I was the weakest.
Whenever I was with a young lover, I could only take things as far as my capacity for a cold shoulder afterwards would allow.
Which was usually very little.
With Mister Big too, it would be the young woman who he would need to protect. If he lures her in, without being in love, and he gives her the night of her life, he’ll destroy her if he’s not ready to be there for her the next day.
He has his disclaimers in place, for any age, that it will probably be just sex and that she has to make up her mind if that’s enough for her. But especially when a woman is young, the risks are there. And then there is the fact that a younger woman will get less out of it, because she’ll have a harder time asking for what she needs.
And Mister Big doesn’t want sex with a woman who’s not having a good time.
So the scene of the story, which happened a few years ago, was that I dropped out of wanting sex and Mister Big asked:
“What do you want?”
And I got extremely hot! I proposed anal sex (like-
can you believe it right?!) and we had a great session.
But a few weeks ago, with the just-oral thing- was a different situation. First off, we were barely seeing each other, and had not had sex in months. The abysmal level of our affair was taking its toll. I literally felt like he had put it on ice.
A feeling I have not been able to shake off to this day.
And we were on a short date, during day time.
The combination of the cold temperatures, with the half-hearted date, was not a fertile ground to warm up to real sex. Not on my part.
But for him it was, and I suggested the blowjob.
And that was really nice. I love giving it, and I get a real boost if he comes on my neck and on my cleavage.
This is one of the key aspects in the book I m writing this month:
-> White Tigress
Yoga & Lifestyle guide for solitary women
who want an amazing sex life
and plenty of energy

A woman loses energy from vaginal or anal intercourse. Although anal is the lesser evil of the two, because a man is more careful not to hurt you, and will take things way more slowly.
But a woman gains energy from oral sex and from sperm landing on her cleavage and neck.
This knowledge came to me, and I don’t think this was a coincidence, days or weeks before I met my first lover. Early 2007.
I just came out of my long term relationship, and I knew I wanted to become a Pro at being single, but I was scared of std’s and had no idea how I was going to conquer that fear.
Just that I had to in order to lead the life I wanted.
So at the brink of my new life, I picked up a book called White Tigress – by Hsi Lai, and this book taught me everything about oral sex and how to use it.
And the rest is history.
I will write down everything I have learned about being a White Tigress. The yoga, the lifestyle, the oral sex.
But first I will explain why me missing my period, and me having so little sex, is bad news. Why it makes me the Least Believable White Tigress in the largely unknown history of the species.
No sex, no period, no authority.
But let me get back to that tomorrow.

Sunday November 5, 2017

charlize-theron-w-magazine-06272017-758x426I had red blood today.
Not the brown smear that also qualifies as “spotting” – loss of blood between periods. I had that a number of times, since the day I was supposed to have my period. Whenever I taught my yoga classes, or went out for the day, I would always use some protection like a menstruation cup or tampon, should my period start. And sometimes it came out spotted.
But not like this.
So maybe me missing my period isn’t the menopause after all. It could be a stress related thing that could have happened at any age, and I will elaborate on that later. Because if I still have eggs left – life force and youth that I can preserve in the first place – that would be great news for my White Tigress project. And it’s not just the blood. I had another observation today that makes me think I know what’s wrong here. And believe it or not, this is even more personal.
I have trouble peeing.
Two aspects of it have been investigated: I don’t have an infection, nor an std, and I should be doing a training for an overactive bladder, because that’s the next main suspect. The doctor gave me a link to an online training. I looked into it, but it means I have to train myself to stop going to the loo so often. I m sure she meant well, but I have little faith that will do anything for me.
Because today, when peeing, I noticed something.
You know how middle-aged men always complain that they used to have the peeing power of a horse, and now they’re so weak down there? I felt exactly that. And the same irritation, and sadness for loss of youth.
But instead of this loss of strength, I had verbalized to the doctor only the “female” side of my problem; feeling I had to go, way more often, and not feeling accomplished afterwards.
I had failed to notice my lack of power down there.
Or lack of power?
No. Too much power, not enough relaxation. I could feel my pelvic floor was way too tight, and this meant I could not engage the muscles anymore because they were already too tensed.
A typical male problem, although females have it too.
But it’s something that yoga can fix. Not all yoga though. Yoga that focuses on contracting the pelvic floor only makes it worse. Which is exactly what the “ultimate” White Tigress yoga series does: the Master Series, or “week 10 series”, that I was about to commit myself to for the rest of my life.
For weeks I had had this urge to commit to daily yoga. And I knew – or thought I knew – the best thing I could do for my body was my White Tigress program. Week 10. Not al the preparatory weeks that I designed for beginners in order to learn proper breathing and to get acquainted with their body. I was a yoga teacher! Give me the real stuff, right?
This morning I felt that lack of relaxation in my pelvic floor and I knew I was carrying way too much tension there. Tension that was not only renown for giving men erectile disfunction (the problem middle aged men have with peeing is usually from an enlarged prostate), but this tensed up pelvic floor also prohibits women from conceiving.
It is a well-known fact to yoga teachers, that the moment women learn to breathe to their belly, and to relax the pelvic floor, conception can be within days of your first yoga class.
So until yesterday I had two problems:
One was that I had stopped having my period, which I suspected meant menopause.
And my second problem was that I had peeing problems.
And yet this moment at the toilet gave me one, loud and clear explanation for both! Tons of tensions in the southern regions.
Before I was ready to take my own level ten White Tigress training, I would have to start at the humble beginnings.
I would have to start with week 1.

Unfinished Business
Saturday November 11, 2017

59015I have so many notes here, things I want to share. From giving up on yoga to reuniting with my lover Mr.Big. But let me start with something I promised to clear up.
Because a week ago I wrote this;
“But first I will explain why me missing my period, and me having so little sex, is bad news. Why it makes me the Least Believable White Tigress in the largely unknown history of the species.
No sex, no period, no authority.
But let me get back to that tomorrow.”
And then tomorrow never came.
So, recap, recap! Here’s what happened, why I initially thought it mattered; and how I’ve totally reinvented myself. I even started drinking again. But let me start at the beginning.
One: Missing my period.
At age 45 I really can’t complain if the signs of menopause are as easy to deal with as spotting, short menstruation cycles, or – as was the case this time – missing a period. In the end I was two weeks late, so I missed half a cycle. But the reason it mattered was that I intend to write and share a yoga method I have developed myself. It’s called White Tigress.
And White Tigress yoga is supposed to preserve your fertility.
Which is why me showing signs of menopause at 45, while my mother stayed fertile way past her Sarah age so I can’t blame bad genes, does not increase the credibility of a method that I think can help a lot of women.
I felt like I had to be fertile and young, in order to prove my method. So I came up with about eighty different plans on doing daily yoga, preferably the White Tigress series, but I also felt attracted to Ashtanga yoga or power yoga. But regardless of how many resolutions I made, yoga didn’t happen.
Two: Peeing problems.
I got screened for infections and std’s, and that all came back clear. Then I realized I had way too much tension in my pelvic floor. Which would explain both the peeing problems, as well as early menopause. And it could be solved with yoga, something I wanted to pick up for the White Tigress anyway.
Well, anyway? More like no way.
Because although yoga self-practice was now labeled a solution to both my problems- menopause and peeing – I still didn’t do it. I took my schedule to the studio, in case I had fifteen spare minutes before class. I started a new yoga diary to inspire myself. I created countless work week schedules in which yoga had its own designated one hour time-slot every morning.
It was absolutely hopeless. Not my physical ailments, nor my desire to be credible as a White Tigress mentor had any effect. My inability for daily yoga at home was carved in stone.
I got my period.
The peeing problems disappeared.
And with that I lost two of the three motivators for doing yoga. That’s when I officially gave up the idea I would ever again do yoga at home.
Especially since something else was taking over my life. Blocking hours for yoga, when this ferocious force was devouring every minute I didn’t defend with my life, was a mission impossible.
That thing, was my work addiction.
Three; Work addiction
I ve said this before, but it’s becoming more clear to me every day. I am a work addict, slash write addict. I m not addicted to work as in teaching yoga classes. They feel more like free time or leisure. And I m not even addicted to writing about yoga, which would include my upcoming White Tigress book.
For this season, 2017-2018, I m writing two books for the studio as well as the White Tigress book (English). Those three books will be the foundation of my studio program for the upcoming years.
So I may be working myself into a stupor this year, but will reap the benefits in years to come. So no, me being at my desk for my yoga business for 25 hours a week, is not because I m addicted to writing about yoga.
My addiction lies in this. What I do here. Writing for the diary you’re now reading, and for every diary-like blog I own. Writing diaries and autobiographical erotica is addictive. Which is a nice bridge to the next thing that happened; I met Mister Big.
Four: no sex
I started this post saying me not having any sex was bad White Tigress practice. Almost as bad as not doing yoga. What I meant was: me not having oral sex, is bad practice. Because White Tigress wisdom says women age from vaginal penetration, and gain energy from oral sex.
In four months I now had sex twice with Mister Big, counting last week’s as the latest addition. Both times I only gave oral, and kept my pants on.
We’d planned a proper date, hopefully leading to proper sex. As far as that’s a valid term when it comes to extra-marital sex but okay. Anyway, I unexpectedly got my period, and I ended up giving a blowjob and keeping my pants on.
But not without thoroughly enjoying myself.
I wrote my diary, as soon as I got home, and I ll copy it here in a minute, so that we can end on a high. But first a recap of everything that happened, my failed resolutions, my questionable health and my raging addiction.
So before I copy my post-sex diary, here are the decisions I made last week;
1. I’m quitting all home yoga efforts
My health is fine now, and I have a writing addiction to attend to. Originally home yoga was also a part of my “Reboot-project”; losing 15 kilos before the new year.
That will just have to happen without a home yoga practice.
2. daily daylight and cycling
This is the only health effort I m making. The only thing standing between me and being glued to my key-board every spare minute of my day.
3. daily writing for LS Harteveld
Every day, I ve carved out time for creative writing. Posts will be shared on my Facebook page and Twitter.
4. The Corporate Job
I’m treating my yoga business (running the studio, teaching classes and writing yoga books), as a regular 40 hour plus workweek. Four days a week from 1p.m. to 10.30 p.m including breaks and travel time, and one half workday on Wednesday. There are no spare time-blocks available; any hours missed will have to be compensated for in the weekend.
Which are days I d rather spent writing.
Or seeing a little more of Mr.Big.

Post-date diary entry

atomic_blonde_03“How well did you know agent Gascoigne?”
*images of two people making love*
“Enough to say hello.”
Atomic Blonde

I could feel myself slip into that other Universe.
The one I had not visited in four months and that belonged exclusively to me and Big. We had the promise of a full evening together, in privacy. We had each other’s full attention, fascination even. It’s strange how being separated heightens the sensation of being together. And we would have fucked, if it hadn’t been for my period. It’s not a hard limit. Just that I need to feel like it, and that never happens unless we’re at my house, and it’s a full-blown sleep-over. Then, I may get over the fact that I m bleeding.
But not now.
That it was the first proper date in four months, and that I had no idea how long it would be until the next, didn’t change that.
But maybe it was better this way. Giving myself in every way but sexually. Although there were plenty of promises for great sex in the future. As well as a blowjob in the now.
His dick is like my tits: I have no idea who to thank, but I m well aware I’m lucky. And his cock had already joined him on business meetings, had been there when he sealed the deal, made money, traveled, hurried, got stuck in traffic and barely made it in time to open the door for me. And logically speaking there must have been sanitary stops between his last shower and my lips closing around his shaft.
He didn’t have time to shower before I rang his doorbell. At least that’s what he said when I asked to verify. Because he smelled so clean and nice. It was so good to do this.
I had missed it so much I could cry.
That moment the Universe split into the side where I was a struggling yoga teacher who suffered from an irregular period, a work addiction and who had given up drinking in a last effort to at least be good at something and keep one resolution. Even though there were no signs the irregular period or the work addiction were dependent on alcohol.
And the other side of the Universe.
Where I was Big’s lover and enjoyed the haze of my first wine in over a month. I gave my trust, my loyalty, the best blowjob I remember giving in my life. I cried. The love was almost tangible, as was the secret status we had. The boundaries of our affair, have created a love nest where I keep everything. My heart, my love, my trust. A chamber of secrets. I m not saying I cannot be hurt or betrayed, just that it wouldn’t happen from him seeing other women, or him ultimately choosing for his wife.
And maybe it’s even that chance that he would hurt me, that gives the whole game an extra thrill. Every time I have to wait. Every time I see others wanting him. Every time I realize how full-on crazy things would get should he divorce and become available on the market again.
A former banker with his own child-free condo, that he managed to slip by his marriage agreement under the flag of a simple property investment.
Yes, things would get crazy. Like sale on Black Friday.
He’s the love of my life, yet chances are I’ll never openly date him. And I ll never blow the secret either. If anyone would ask if I know him, I would answer:
“Enough to say hello.”

Force of Nature
Monday November 13, 2017

giphy (2)How could I forget. Again. Did I honestly believe, two weeks of peeing problems and missed menstruation, were going to make me commit to yoga? Had I learned nothing?
Apparently not.
I keep forgetting that what I refer to as my work addiction, my need to create, is a permanent change in what type of person I am. In what I need in order to have my basic needs met. The moment I became a writer, I was no longer a yogi. My DNA had changed. I couldn’t even properly digest stuff like contemplation, silence, repetition. I couldn’t digest yoga in it’s most primordial form as an experience of going deeper into the Self.
Journeys were only taken when they could be used for writing.
And in doing yoga, the work of creation was either not there, or it had already been done. There was no reward, in yoga, other than consuming or experiencing it.
I only enjoy experiences if I can drain them for their creative inspiration. Like this diary Reboot is based on the movie Atomic Blonde. And I’m currently reading – devouring would be a more accurate word – the diary of an escort girl. It is ending up covered in sticky-notes marking all the brilliant pieces. The diary of the escort has awakened a screaming desire in me to start a new project.
Charlotte Shane – Prostitute’s Laundry
But in general book reading, art admiring, and music listening require the same presence doing a preset series of yoga require. And I can’t do that anymore. I should have known that as I gained something – the creative force of an artist – I also lost something; the contemplation of a yogi.
And that’s when the idea came; I m going to set up an inspirational yoga program, using quotes from the book I m reading, as well as music from Madonna. From the early beginnings to her latest album.
Total running time: 36 weeks, equaling 36 thirty minute playlist, 36 quotes from the book and 36 chapters of this book Reboot.
The first playlist is named after the first album; Madonna- Madonna.
And no one, not even me, knows what I m going to do on the mat.
Just that 30 minutes of freestyle yoga bears a closer resemblance to dance or other performance art than to yoga, and has a a higher chance of succeeding than anything bonafide yoga I tried to do on the mat for the last ten years.
So I m not going to “reboot” to a former version of me; Nor reinvent to being Charlize Theron in Atomic Blonde. For 36 weeks, I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago;
I’m going to recreate myself.

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

All new diary entries, will be published on Facebook first
or you can follow the yoga project and Reboot on Twitter

—> GET YOUR 25% OFF <—

I m straightening out the distribution of my books.
Once that’s done you will be able to order them at, Amazon, or at your local retailer.
But I will also take the 25% discount down.
So visit my store now, to pick up your copy;

Reboot. Episode 3 Reinvention

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Becoming Charlize Theron
Monday October 30, 2017

My late uncle used to say:
“If you had written just one sentence a day, your novel would have been finished years ago.”
It would take another eight years for me to publish Mango. Although in my defense, the delay wasn’t due to not writing. The writing had already been done. But it was because I had not pushed through in the editing and publishing phase, and due to total lack of vision on where I wanted to go with publishing, that nearly killed my career as an author.
Not lack of writing.
Although I admit that I have finalized a number of diaries, way sooner than I intended to, because more pressing matters emerged or a new theme (read; man) came up. It deserved a fresh start. But I never abandoned the old diary and I never abandoned a book either. I just wrote some sort of satisfying ending and moved on.
But that’s not what I want for Reboot.
Reboot is my journey to becoming Charlize Theron in the movie Atomic Blonde. Or, should that prove to be unattainable, to become the 2009, 1991, 1989 version of me. Because those are years I was closest to being Charlize Theron in Atomic Blonde.
In 2009 I was a yoga teacher who practiced yoga every day or twice day. I had a booming business, a flat belly and I dated men half my age.
I was totally rocking adulthood. Something I feel I ve been failing at ever since.
In 1991 I was a lean size 8, and I had a pale and rock hard size 8 body that could have doubled for Madonna, should she have needed a decoy body double to run through Hide Park. Which she didn’t, because her Blonde Ambition tour was one year earlier, but you get the gist.
I looked fab.
In 1989 I still owned my petite size 6, pre-gym body. I had a gorgeous rack, and I feel tempted to include a picture of my sixteen year old boobs here, because boy! That was something. I was a bit early in developing them, but by the time I was 16 I had gotten past feeling awkward and I was fully aware that God had not been shy in the boobs department. They were not so big they would give me back pains either.
They were truly perfect and I really was a sweet sixteen.
“Reboot” is a diary that is supposed to document my journey of becoming any of those leaner, sexier versions of me. Which I know I can be! If only I got around to it. If I would focus, visualize, live, the true new version of me – BE HER- I know it would be a matter of months, weeks even.
I know that once I started living this from inside out, and not by imposing diets or exercise regimes onto myself, the weight that I gained in all those years I didn’t publish, didn’t do yoga at home, didn’t date men half my age even though I have no intention of getting that back thank you very much, that the weight will melt off, my body will tone, and that I can just pick whatever I want.
To be in 2009, in 1991, in 1989.
Or even to be Charlize Theron if I fucking want to.
And this time?
I know how.

High-Functioning Alcoholic  
Tuesday October 31, 2017

51603One of the aspects of the movie Atomic Blonde, that inspired me the most, was that the sexy MI6 agent played by Charlize Theron, was a striking example of what is commonly referred to as;
A high-functioning alcoholic.
She belts down her wodka like … I don’t know! What’s the comparison here? Do we even know of an action hero, that crams in so much Stoli on ice between assassinating, collaborating and just merely trying to stay alive as a spy in Berlin 1989? Not a situation where you would want your judgement or aim failing on you. And this all got me thinking about alcohol in general and here’s what I found.
On one hand I knew a lot of people who drank too much, slept too little, were overweight, and seemed to fail at every resolution to get healthy. Yet, they held good jobs, got married, raised children. They were doing everything you shouldn’t be doing, but had pretty good results!
On the other hand I knew people who were struggling with health problems as well as having a hard time holding on to their jobs or even to function in pretty average social situations.
And they were not drinking any alcohol, made sure they slept as much as possible, and strained themselves as little as possible, in an attempt to heal from their anxiety, physical ailments and so on. A situation that didn’t show any or very little improvement over time.
I had question after question.
Were high-functioning alcoholics so successful, by worldly standards, despite of their drinking?
Or were they in fact so successful because of it?
Was it possible to deploy alcohol in order to become high-functioning? Had I, we as a society, been looking at the wrong side of the coin all along?
Was it possible to achieve my goal, of becoming a high-functioning size 8 hard body, by making strategic use of Stoli on ice?
I seriously started considering this option, and the evidence was piling up. Next to spy-work during the cold war, other stressful professions – lawyers and surgeons – had the highest rates of alcoholism. Alcohol was named as number one coping meganism. Studies showed that if alcohol would be tested against modern day standards for drugs it wouldn’t even pass: That’s how dangerous it was. But to me, it was only more proof of how potent this drug was.
After a week, of toying with the thought, I investigated what the implications would be for my own situation. How much would I need to drink and when? What would be the optimum consumption taking into account the energy I would lose, from having to break down the alcohol, to the productivity or output I would gain from being able to work more because I could relax more quickly?
I did everything I could in order to plan how I could reach my goal of becoming a thin, high-functioning writer slash yoga-teacher, by becoming the world’s first alcoholic by choice. Much like an athlete who will use doping drugs in order to accelerate his performance.
So everything was in place. It was just a matter of getting the details right, and setting up a proper system to finetune and monitor my lifestyle choice.
And then something happened.
I started estimating the sleep I would need to compensate, or the less productive hours or days I would not be able to work, and suddenly I realized I was sleeping two hours more than a few months ago.
In May 2016 I quit drinking, but I started again this summer because I wasn’t impressed with what it was doing for me. For one thing; not drinking was making me fat. In order to compensate for not drinking two glasses of Chardonnay, I would have one or two alcohol-free beers; a bowl of nachos enough to feed three people; hot chocolate with whipped cream if I constrained myself or tea with a tile-sized brownie if I didn’t.
I could easily ate a thousand calories in order to compensate the hundred and fifty two glasses of white wine would have cost me.
At the end of fifteen months of drought I was seriously done being fat and sober.
I needed a drink.
So, this thought of becoming a high-functioning alcoholic was simply a plan to optimize this new situation. I wanted to expand my recreational four to six drinks a week, to a killer mix of totally nailing my productivity and my waistline. I was going to seriously kick some butt here.
Until I saw my sleep stats.
That’s when i realized I was already sleeping two hours more, every night, since I had started drinking. I had only needed four to five hours of sleep a night before. Now it was six or seven, sometimes even more.
When I saw the hard facts – that alcohol had already put me behind two hours a day, that’s twelve a week! – I immediately gave up drinking. First just for my “Reboot” months, the time I had set aside to sculpt my new life. But soon enough I knew I was never going back.
Right now it’s November. My waistline and the number of hours I sleep have not changed yet. Nor has my frustration over how few hours there are in a week, got any less.
Not yet.
But I m positive that will change soon, because I found a new drug, and it is working. That was a sentence that can be interpreted in two different ways, and they’re both true.
More about my new dope tomorrow.

Wednesday November 1

NaNoWriMo means National Novel Writing Month, and it’s a challenge to write a novel in November. I checked my timeline today and saw no NaNoWriMo hashtags, and even the official NaNoWriMo Twitter account seemed to have gone to bed for a few hours. Writers in Europe would be hitting their desk this November first, without the support of a global community. Although admittedly most participants would have made different choices on which accounts to follow in the first place.
I follow sex workers and comedians.
Not writers.
But still! I do follow bloggers, and although I may have been one of the first to know about NaNoWriMo, it has a huge international following by now. It’s just that, well, not someone I followed apparently.
And that bugged me.
 Not that I didn’t follow more writers but it bugged me that it was so quiet. In past years I had used the uplifting energy of NaNoWriMo to publish my manuscripts in November. Not that I was ever successful – publishing my ten books would take until this summer – but nevertheless! I loved the anticipation that I could accomplish something too.
I had fond memories of this month but my supply of NaNoWriMo energy on Twitter was dangerously low. If I wanted it, I would have to create it myself.
So I did. I have.
I have decided that I m going to commit to writing a book that I ve started, in several different forms and languages, but that I dropped out of an equal number of times. It’s called White Tigress, and it’s about a revolutionary path for single women.
The full title of the book I will be writing this NaNoWriMo is;
 White Tigress
 YOGA & LIFESTYLE guide for solitary women who want an amazing SEX LIFE and plenty of energy
cover White Tigress
It will be a lot of work. But that shouldn’t be a problem because one of the things I learned about myself the past couple of months, is that I m a flat out work addict. Or write addict, to be exact. There have been a couple of things I wanted to change in my life.
I wanted to stop having a racing heartbeat and anxiety attacks, the moment I fell asleep.
I wanted to lose 15 kilo and look like Charlize Theron in Atomic Blond.
I wanted an athletic body, instead of the current one which is used to writing marathons not one month, but twelve months a year. I could vividly remember how good it felt before I was a writer and still had a home yoga practice! Spending one or two hours a day on self-practice not only gives you a new body, but a totally different outlook on life.
I spent September and October trying to figure out how to get my yogic life and my old body back, assuming that restraining myself in writing had to be an important component. I was convinced that once I had that contained, I would be back to my youthful self.
And I still think that.
Just that it’s not feasible. I can’t stop writing any more than I can stop breathing.
I used to think that writing served a purpose to process my emotions of falling in love, meeting new men. If I would stop having sex, I would stop writing. But now I know better. Because I haven’t had (intercourse/) sex in four months, I have no idea if my lover and me are still “on” and my period has stopped – indicating I m one of the few for whom menopause will be over with swiftly.
I m 45 with no man and no signs of fertility and I feel more creative than ever. It is absolutely impossible to stop writing. I don’t even want to. Even if I wouldn’t have my family, my friends, my work, and all I had were writing and an internet connection, I would still be completely fulfilled.
Take that in.
Read that again.
Reminds you of something? Perhaps of people who stick needles in their arms, snort thousands of euros up their nose? Of people who show compulsive behavior that affects everything from their social life to their financial situation?
I am one of those people.
I am a work addict.
And I basically have the choice between doing something about it and live a normal life. Or to take this addiction as a given, work around it. See if my addiction to writing and my desire to stay alive can coexist.
In September and October I tried option 1.
And failed miserably.
In November I m going for option 2: I m taking my desire to work myself into exhaustion as a given.
Let’s go write that book.

An Unexamined Life is not worth living

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Another thing I ll be doing in November, is to straighten out the distribution of my books.

They are still not available in other (web)shops and that bugs me.
Once that’s done you will be able to order them at, Amazon, or at your local retailer.
But I will also take the 25% discount down.
So visit my store now, to pick up your copy;