Word: fleshed
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...alone? Why shouldn't a number of men enjoy her company? That is why a prostitute was called barnari or barangana - meaning public woman - and the source of her earnings was her skill in some performing art. [Now] prostitution has been reduced almost completely into a trading of the flesh...
...rather feet—of another. “Liturgy,” choreographed by Chistopher Wheeldon, was billed as the highlight of the evening, by virtue of the two stars on loan from New York City Ballet, Maria Kowroski and Albert Evans. Kowroski, in a startling flesh-colored leotard fashioned like a bikini, had the unenviable task of taking on a role created on Wheeldon’s muse Wendy Whelan, largely inimitable in her otherworldly, limbless, spider-like movement. “Liturgy,” however, is not another one of Wheeldon?...
...winner of the July grand prize, as well as of category prizes in both July and October, was a letter carrier from Portland, Ore., named Murr Brewster, whose folksy commentary on low-rise jeans and other fashion trends won in "Style+Beauty+Body." (An excerpt: "rolling cumulonimbus mounds of flesh were thundering out of pants all over town. Everywhere I looked, girls were celebrating physiques of the sort that once ignited the muumuu industry.") The announcement of her October win coincided with her retirement from her post-office job. "This has been a very good week," she said...
...football team to his personal relationships. But though Quick’s first novel is an engaging enough read, it is also a fluffy one. Despite the narrator’s professed desire to better understand himself, his world, and the people who populate it, Quick barely manages to flesh out the main character, let alone the secondary ones. Quick endows Pat with the voice and writing style of a seventh grader. Pat expresses himself in run-on sentences, and often uses grammatical constructions that one might find in a poorly written grade-school report. One example of this...
...mask the brutal hardness of wood. She felt the splinters scraping her tender back as though it had been yesterday.And he was here in Italy. She knew it with as much certainty as if the painted figure before her were not oils hardened into ridges upon a canvas, but flesh equally hardened by athletic prowess. It was as though a vital, palpitating ghost inhabited the great hall with her. She felt his mouth on her cheeks, the delicate yet rough line of kisses along her bare arm, her shoulder, her decollatage.It was true, what he had said in the stable...