I Remember, Back In The Day...

You know, Kypr the Little Messenger and I remember the day, way back when, that Steven didn't really know how to spank. Or, rather, was just plain unwilling to make it hurt.

Sometimes, we miss those days. Usually on days like today, where all the mad and brat is gone, and there's nothing left but a very, very sore tail end.

Yesterday, I worked 13 hours at a restaurant, and I was sat with multiple parties, one being a 24 top. I was exhausted and frustrated and, where I work, you only get "smoke breaks" if you smoke. If you don't...we'll, you must not need a break at all...right?

I was almost finished, and I stepped outside to find a girl I work with so she could sign me. All of a sudden, that seat on the back dock seemed mighty appealing. Plus, some of you may remember that I have a little problem with smoking.

I bummed a couple off some friends and sat down to chat it up with the regular smokers. On a whim, I called Steven to ask him if we needed anything else from the store besides toilet paper and buns.

"Oh, are you off already, baby?"

"Uhm, not quite." There was a pause, pregnant with a sudden tension.

"You aren't smoking, are you?" And, I don't know what got into me. The complete lack of desire to be spanked for my wrongdoing over took me.

"No, of course not. I just popped outside for a minute to get a signature, and thought I'd call."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep." And, then, a friend--"Grace--when did you start smoking?" I shushed him and hurried to get off the phone. Steven asked me three more times. I lied each time.

When I went inside, I squirted lemon juice on my hands and in my mouth to cut the smell of the smoke and finished up. He texted me, asking again. Again, I told him of course I wasn't smoking, he was paranoid.

I clocked out and went to the store. But, as soon as I walked into the house, he met me at the door, expecting our usual affectionate greeting....but, I wanted a shower, wanted to rinse the smell of my guilt off. He looked me in the eye and asked yet again. I laughed him off, and made for the shower. He cut me off and asked again with the same results.

Finally, he pulled away. "Come on, then."

"Come on? Why??"

"For not telling me." What the...??


"Ok, fine, I smoked a couple."

"Ok. Come on."

"WHY? I just told you!"

"Well, now you're getting spanked for smoking AND for lying to me about it." It was a particularly dreadful spanking, with plenty of lecturing and sit spot swats thrown in. "You know how I feel about lying!" he chided at one point.

"Actually," I said, hoping for a reprieve, "We've never talked about it before." A pause, then a flurry of sharp  swats with that damn spoon, right at the tops of my thighs.

"Ok, here then. I loathe lying. I simply detest it. It breaks down trust, and it shows a kind of arrogance and lack of regard that says you're going to come up with a story so good that I have to believe you. How can I trust you when you're lying to me?"



All in all, a most unpleasant evening. :( Fixed now, of course...

Save for what's left.

A very, very sore tail end.

And a fond memory of when it was only a few swats over shorts.

Sigh.

Bring It On!

Thank God.

I have to say, they were awful. The endless conversation, with me over his knee, naturally...sucked. But, you know...we're better. He talked me through it, he walked me through it. He forgave me totally and completely and without reserve.

He's a saint, my man.

He's been super affectionate, constantly wheeling me around for a kiss, his hand never gone from mine or from my waist. He's been super snuggly, and amazingly sweet.



Like, it's soooo over...

Which, before DD...would have been impossible. I doubt we've ever had a fight quite of this magnitude. There was screaming and slapping(ok, only once, on my part...the rest was on his, to a very sensitive rear, so it may n not count). There were tears and turning around to walk out. There was withdrawal and wise-cracks. Sarcasm and separation. It was ugly all around. I said more than a dozen hurtful things...Stormy calls them "throwing bombs", and I've yet to find a better way to put it.

But, he spanked me, and it's over.

And that blows my mind. He just...forgives me. Poof. It still amazes me. Even after several months of DD(not forever, by any stretch of the imagination...but you'd think it was long enough to grasp the concept of misdeed, discussion, punishment, forgiveness, progression...), it still is mind-boggling to me.

I started my streak over by the way. I'm doing just fine. I haven't been spanked, and I've loved it.

He's been all about warnings and helping stay doing well, too. It's been a really close, sweet time for us. And  , I'm loving it. Here's to hoping it continues on like this, smooth sailing, for quite a while.

Bring it on, Month. :)

My Crusades: A Miserable Life Choice

I almost didn't survive.

Ok...so that's a little bit of an exaggeration. But, certainly it was one of the worst, and most deserved, spankings I've ever received.

Now, I won't say what I was originally being spanked for, because it's one of those issues that Steven and I consider to be very personal and that we have different opinions on, and are still working through. But, suffice it to say, I got a pretty awful spanking the night before last. When he was finished, though, I had all my walls up. We went to bed...and woke up at 4:30 in the morning to start fighting again. Like, I woke up to him spanking me. I didn't handle it well in the slightest. My language went waaaayyy down hill...and, let me tell you, I've never been more fortunate for a man that doesn't fool with mouth soaping!

But, again, even with all these "Unfair Spankings"(not that, in retrospect it was quite as unfair as I believed) posts popping up recently, I "toughed  it out" until he finished, and then slammed those walls right back up. I told him I didn't want his affection, his touch, or his comfort. I just wanted a shower. So, I went in the bathroom and climbed into the shower. I stayed, crying, until the water ran cold. Then, I turned it off and sat down in the floor of it, and just kept on crying.

Finally, after I had completely air-dried, Steven came in. "I think I've given you enough time," he said. "Come to bed. Now." I followed, and we went to sleep(probably 7:30 in the morning), but we didn't touch. Nine o' clock rolls around, and we're getting up to go to our respective jobs. And, it starts again. Verbally, I'm blasting him. Physically, he's scorching my backside.And, I really am not at all sure what got into me. It was hurting dreadfully, and I yanked up, livid.

I turned around. And I slapped him.

His face shot red with anger, and he pointed to the corner. "I think you need to go stand there for a while." His voice was little more than a growl, and you'd THINK I would have realized the depth of my mistake at this point. I didn't.

He ended up putting on Capsician Cream for me to get through work with, and placing a few well-aimed swats to heat it up before I left.

Even still, the entire day was a text battle. I was cruel. I was raised in a family that, when we're fighting, we fight dirty. I accused him of horrible things. I told him our entire situation was something we should just give up on. I told him he never really wanted me anyway, and this was a perfect scapegoat. I told him to quit pretending we were ok.

"Oh, I'm not pretending anything. We are nowhere near ok; I'll let you know when my ears stop ringing." That was the first I felt of a twinge of regret.

Still, more poison from me: "At least my cooks want me. They haven't had their hands off me yet." All in all, I reached a whole new level of atrocious and hurtful.

It kinda reminds me of the Crusades. You can do such horrible things, if you have the "armor" of feeling like you're right and have been wronged. And, I did.

Right before I came home, I asked how the night was going to go. "A lot of spanking, some chatting, some lecturing." Funnily enough, I was almost comforted. The day caught up with  me, and I realized alllll the horrible, hurtful things that I'd said and done.

And, you know. That's pretty much how the night went. Except he sent me to the corner for a while, after a warm-up, and told me I was going to have to answer two questions when I came out. The first: why what I had done was detrimental to our relationship. The second: Why giving up on us wasn't an option.

I came out with an answer to the first. The second, though, I told him WAS an option. We weren't married. We have no children. He could walk out the door any time. And I asked him why it wasn't, if it wasn't.

"Because I love you. I can see myself spending the rest of my life with you. I love the life I have with you. And, I'm not going anywhere." He told me to stop being so afraid of something that I tried to make it that, just to get it over with, basically.

Emotionally, yesterday was trying for both of us. I proved how truly hurtful I could be, and he proved that he was, as always, my rock. He loves me anyway, though I'm so, so ashamed of how I reacted, responded, and behaved. He certainly didn't deserve any of that.

As to the spanking part---I'm honestly just not at all sure when I'll be able to sit comfortably again.

And, for some reason, that's equally reassuring to me.

Cross Your Fingers!

...And I was doing so good, too!!

I'd made it nearly a week without a spanking...probably because I've had an atrocious sinus infection that really has just left me down for the count.

BUT...as per my usual...I went and let my temper and my mouth get right out of control. See...our carpets were in DIRE need of cleaning, and Steven had been promising to do it for days. Let me be clear--he tried. The carpet cleaner was broken and needed a spare part that we didn't have on hand. Still, I was upset, way beyond reason. We had a friend over that I was helping with the lines for her play; she's an under-level ASL student, so she needed help with some things we'd already done.

I took that as a free pass to do whatever it was I liked. And, at that particular moment, I "liked" being a total brat. I pitched such a fit, she even felt uncomfortable. It was all in snide words and comments and, really, just a generally disrespectful attitude. I got my fair share of warnings. I ignored them.

I ignored them all the way out the door to my doctor's appointment. I ignored them right up until my phone rang. It was Steven and he was soooo far from happy.

"You will never," he growled, "Never make anyone that we have invited...or anyone at our house period, feel uncomfortable because of your attitude! Do you understand me?" I felt the beginnings of a squirm inside. "Now. Call her and apologize. We'll deal with it when you get home." Unwilling to push for any more trouble than I was already in, I called her and apologized. She accepted it graciously.

Then, to make my day better, the doctor told me I had one of the most severe sinus infections she'd seen in a while. I'm on steroids and antibiotics both. Fast-forward back to the house.

I'm due to be spanked, and, to my horror...he's found the wooden spoon. It's been...eh...missing in action for the past couple of weeks.

Bummer that.

Anyway, Steven's started this new lecture-during-the-spanking thing...I hate it. Honestly, how can one be expected to form coherent thought and response when getting spanked?? But, he insists that it's possible. So. I was frustrated and angry, and sick of the whole deal, so I stood up. Now, if you'll remember, we just recently instituted some new rules regarding cooperation. Needless to say, that broke a few of them. So, he took it up a notch. And, much to my intense chagrin, I got a whole new level of trouble.



"DO you understand me?"

Hint. Nodding doesn't count as an answer.

"Yes!" A couple of extra hard spanks.

"Yes...? Yes what? What goes with yes?"

A sinking feeling, straight to the pit of my stomach. He's going to want a sir here, I know he is. And, I'm NOT saying it.

"Yes, I understand..."

"Grace. Yes, what?" Quick internal battle, solved even quicker by some more searing swats.

"Yes, sir..." It was the first time he's asked me to say that. Definitely puts you in the submissive mindset, that's for sure.

And, from there, the spanking kept me in that mindset...and, right this minute, I'm in the start a streak of not being spanked frame of mind.

So. Cross your fingers for me! I'm shooting for a month!

Lest You Think Me Ungrateful...

I wanted to post this, just so we're clear on all the wonderful things Steven does for me, and how much I love him.

I have not cooked a single dinner since we moved in together--he cooks them all. Good thing, too, because I can burn water. Easily.

Anything I ask him to do, he does. He doesn't whine or gripe or demand I do it. He just...does it.

He gets up in the middle of the night with the boys.

He wakes me up, even though I'm a complete devil in the mornings.

He kisses me every day. :)

I never have to want for affection--it's always there. I love the feel of his hand on my back, or waist, or in mine.

When I do decide I want more affection than is really convenient, I go sit in his lap. He stops whatever he's doing to love me.

I convinced him to lay out in the sun with me. :P NOT his idea of a good time, but something he did, nonetheless.

He watches my work schedule and makes sure there is us time, and me time, so that I don't get burnt out.

He tends me when I'm sick.

He taught me how to do laundry...(I know. I'm a tad pathetic.)

He teases me endlessly--this house is never without jokes and laughter.

He's devastatingly handsome. :)

He encourages all of my pursuits, whether that's writing, exercise(within reason), or whatever.

He lets me pick the movies we watch....and, trust me, for him, that can be a sacrifice.

I can call him when he's working on his car, no matter what time, and he'll answer, even those he's busy.

He lays with me and lets me cuddle all I want.(I'm a bit of a cuddle addict).

If I don't want to go alone, he'll meet me at the gym at midnight. (Or take me at 4 am...I made the mistake of making my appointment that early...he still took me.)

He didn't make me get rid of all the myriad of animals I bring home.

He doesn't nag.

He's dominant and protective, and I always know where I stand with him.

He spanks me when I need it, and knows when I don't.

I can trust him. And, that is a big deal.

He endures my crazy family.

He doesn't demand from me--that man gives and gives and gives.

And I love him. :)

It Passed

Bang down the gavel.

A new rule has been passed.

It's a scary one. And it's an odd one.



The rule? I can't ask to him to stop.

Awful, huh?

That means, quite simply, it doesn't matter how much it hurts.

As he says, he's well aware that it hurts.

He means for it to hurt.

I'm still not to ask for him to stop spanking me.

I'm not to throw my hand back, or kick up my feet.

(Yeah, I know..a given, right?...eh...)

I'm not to tell him that I've had enough.

That's for him to decide.

I'm not to ask him how many, or how many more.

I'm not to tell him how many I've had.

He can, after all, count.

Plus..I doubt it's ever REALLY been a billion.

All in all, there's to be no more "topping from the bottom".

Not that I ever succeed...but..

He put this rule into practice last night...that was a rough one.

According to him, he was almost finished.

I was just a few swats away from relief.

"PLEASE. Please, just stop!! That's enough!"

That finish line?...

Well, it moved on down the road. This...this is going to be a toughie, for sure.

Close Call :P

 We have a new addition to our little family...a beautiful little black kitten named Amos. His best friend is Blue-dog, and he slept curled up in the crook of our Dane's leg last night. All in all, he's super cute.

Our running joke is that I pick the best pets---and the way I do it is to choose the one "getting into stuff".

BUT...

Maybe you're wondering why a sweet little brother for the boys would be a close call?

Aheh..

Well, see...Diesel, the boxer? I just brought him home, the day after Christmas. Steven spanked me, and then adjusted and grew to love the little guy.

Rue-baby, our other cat, showed up a few weeks after that...again, with little to no warning. Another spanking. OUCH.

And, then, Bluedog I sort of asked about...but we had an appointment to meet him before we were in the "all-clear" stage...Since I asked, though, I escaped a spanking.

And, Amos...

I sort of just went and picked up. I called Steven to tell him something(he was at work), and he heard Amos in the background, mewing.

"...Grace...where are you?"

"I'm in my car. Why?"Cue innocent smile...even though he couldn't see me.

"What is that sound?"

"Uhm, what sound?"

"You know. The one that sounds like a kitten."

"OH, that sound. 'M not sure...it being a kitten would be...crazy..." slightly hysterical giggle.

"Yes. Yes, it would be crazy."



Fast-forward. Was a bit sick yesterday, so I stayed for a while with my mom, since Steven was going to be out late. When we got home, Amos was so sweet and funny and cute. I was too sick to be spanked by that point, with a 101 fever.

Then, this morning...

"Are you going to spank me?"

"I don't know. I probably should."

Grin.

"But, you aren't going to..?"

Pause.

"No. Not this time."

Talk about your close calls! :) I'll put a pic up of the boys soon.

Grace and the No-Good, Not-Fun, Never-Ending, Double Dog Downer Day

Once upon a time...

There lived a couple...and the girl loved the boy, and he loved her, too. It was a good relationship, with DD liberally dousing it, helping it grow stronger. Then, one day, this boy, he realized his girl had a little problem. 

An eating problem. She liked to pretend it wasn't there. After all, to her, it didn't feel like a problem.  When she didn't eat, or she used laxatives, or exercised for hours, she loved the feeling of emptiness. She relished that inner craving--it made her feel skinnier by the minute!

...But, the boy felt like the skinnier it made her feel--the sorer her butt should feel. He spanked her, every time! Sometimes, it was worse than others. Sometimes, she did all those things: she ate next to nothing, she threw it up, and then used laxatives just to be doubly sure it was gone! 

Those sometimes, he was especially strict. 

And those sometimes made for some no-good, not-fun, never-ending, double dog downer days. Days where spankings lasted for a million and one years, and involved a small dowel rod, and/or the belt, and his hand, and, she'd swear a million other things. 

But, here's the thing: it didn't make the feeling of pleasure she got from the empty go away. She hated that it disappointed him. She hated lying when he asked her if she was finished, if he'd erased all traces of good associations...but, really...he couldn't possibly spank that away, so what was the point in saying that he hadn't? 

Instead, the punishments left her with an over-riding sense of guilt. 

And what should have been a one-off...wasn't. 

So, until that Problem finds a solution...

Grace feels like she she's living in one, big, no-good, not-fun, NEVER-ENDING, double-dog downer day. :( 

Merry Easter ALL!

HAPPY EASTER!!



I figured that Easter was deserving of multiple lolcats. :) :) You all know how I feel about those.



Joking aside, though, Merry Easter to all! I hope you guys have a great family time, dye lots of eggs, Find lots of eggs, eat lots of food, eat even more chocolate, and, above all:

Remember the real reason for celebration.

(I'll be sneaking my chocolate to church, though...) :P

Hi, Trouble, My Name is...Oh, Wait, You Already Know My Name? Huh.

 


















I think, sometimes, that I live in a constant state of being re-introduced to Trouble...and, nope, that capital letter is not an accident.

The Trouble I have lived in lately definitely deserves it.

Fell off the band-wagon today. My professor brought in doughnuts. Jerk. That SOUNDS, on the outside, like YEAH!! Doughnuts! What a love--right?

Uh, yeah, right.

I succumbed to the temptation of glaze and sugar...I ate one. And, my stomach promptly started roiling. Up to then, I'd had a half a grilled cheese(at Steven's insistence), one Boneless wing, and two potato skins. This...this indulgence left my mouth watering and my stomach spinning in a constant reminder of what it felt needed to be done next. Sad thing, I suppose, to have your stomach trained to know that after something bigger than a half a palm, it's supposed to purge itself.

I made it almost home without him knowing that I'd succumbed not only to the doughnut's temptations, but that throwing it back up had become her own temptress.

I swear, that toilet was a siren, and I wouldn't be content until my guilt over the sweet, along with the sweet itself, was gone.

Oohoo, guess what?

Wait...you got it? Dang.

Yeah, got spanked. First with his hand(ok, so he says it was a warm-up, but I call bull-shit...that was hard!), then his belt. Now, let me be clear, I don't fear the belt the very most, but it's not something I jump in line for either. Then, it was back to his hand.

And, from there, on to the spatula...that thing stings like no other, I swear! After which, I was moved into the corner.

It was pouring rain outside, so I escaped the switch--

Only to have him appear with a thin dowel rod in his hand. He plopped down in a chair(the only time I see him use this dumb thing is for spanking) and pulled me over his knee...I think we've discussed how I hate that?

And, here's the thing--I got mad. I was mad I was getting spanked. I was mad that it hurt. I didn't think it was fair: after all, it's my prerogative if I want to eat, right? And, certainly, one stupid little doughnut wasn't worth this much punishment?


For your reference, should you ever find yourself in my shoes--mentioning that is a poor idea.

He laid into me with that rod, and I swear, I was WISHING I'd die. I didn't. And, he started something new: lecturing during the spanking.

"Are you serious?" I spluttered after his third question. "We're having *conversation* right now?"

"I'm serious," he responded. It took forever, but Kypr finally made it into my head. I still don't totally agree with just how unhealthy he thinks my habits are...but, nonetheless:

I got the spanking from Hell.

I owe him a four page paper, one page being on why having a low self-image is unhealthy, one page on why not eating is unhealthy, one page on why throwing up/purging is unhealthy, and one page on healthy, viable, reasonable alternatives.

I didn't get to go to the gym tonight.

I have to write a detailed food journal every day, which includes exercise(type, duration, the whole nine yards), and give it to him every night. If I don't give him one, it's a spanking. If I lie on it, it's a spanking. If I throw anything up, it's a spanking. If I...you get the picture.

At the end, he told me his love wasn't measured by how much I weigh, or lose, or gain. I know that's true. He told me I was his baby if I weighed 120, or 320 lbs. I believe him.

But, my butt's throbbing, I have a paper due, and I'm flatly struggling with the accountability of a food journal. I normally feel very at peace, if sore, after a spanking.

Tonight, I feel both loved...

And sad.

Here's hoping tomorrow will look up a little.

It's got to, right?

Switches Are Bitches: An Ode

Switches are bitches,

That much is true.

‘Specially when whipping

Down onto you.

You plead and plead

For mercy, you beg,

Convinced that you’re bleeding

And at least, half-dead.

Hands fly back

And legs kick high-

It never misses the mark,

No, not even one time.

There’s a lesson here, somewhere,

You know that there is—

Soon as you learn it

That switch, it’ll quit!

So concentrate—

OUCH! YELP! And EEEP!

Not it, yet, no—

OW, OW!! and BLEEEEEP!

Well, that didn’t work,

But you got it soon after;

Sorry, sorry, and on

You blather.

Finally, finished,

Oh, my, Thank GOD,

Finally stilled, that little rod.

You learned two things,

Both vital to know—

Don’t do it again,

And, then, also:

Switches are bitches,

That much, it’s true.

SPECIALLY when whipping

Down onto you.

OH, NO, It's the MOJO!

Ok. So.

I've heard of the HOH Mojo. I've read about it's effects, and I've read about all the reddened bottoms it leaves in its wake. Dangerous thing, that Mojo.


And Steven's got it.

Take last night for example. I have a weekly list of chores that need to be accomplished. You know, laundry, dishes, floors, bathroom, and the like. Unfortunately, I've not touched it this week. So, we were discussing all the things that needed to happen the next day, and he made a comment about not having clean towels. (Come on, don't judge...we only have like 5.) I pretty much said he hadn't done anything around the house either, so get off my back about it.

"Well, if you'd have done your part..." Why, son of a gun, and a sack of potatoes! He didn't just say that!!

My feathers were ruffled. Not gonna lie.

"My part?" I asked, eyes wide with innocence. "I have a part?"

"You made that list in there," he responded.

"Oh, no, I know about the list; just a part means that someone else is doing a different part, ya know? So...do I have the whole thing, or are you helping? Because I've not seen you playing with the laundry or anything else, either." I got a LOOK. I couldn't resist. "Just saying." Then, he started in on school.

"I just feel like ASL class has taken a back burner recently."

"Oh, so you mean you've gone without me? Because I'm pretty sure that you were home every time I was...sooo...can't really bitch about that either." Another LOOK, this one more...sincere? I escaped out of the shower and quickly got dressed. (Not that I normally sleep in shorts, but this one time...felt safer.) But, my mouth didn't stop.

"But, if you want me to go to class in the morning, let me know, and I'll do that instead of house work. But, pick your poison, because you can't bitch about both." I vanished into our bedroom, leaving him still finishing up in the bathroom.

"GRACE!" he hollered. "Do NOT go to sleep." Maybe a second layer of underwear? Two pairs of shorts? Choices, choices.

When he did arrive, I was in the laundry room, pretending to put a load in, but really, indulging in one of my past-times...sulking. Though he doesn't usually, and I by that, I mean pretty much never has, he wheeled me around on the spot and landed a few searing spanks. I yanked myself back around with a yelp. I hoped that he would leave it at that...

But the MOJO shone through. "Do NOT turn away from me." And I got a few more. Fortunately, I wasn't spanked last night, not legitimately.

Didn't need to be..

Still felt those handprints when we went to bed.

I love the accountability, but...

DANG, that MOJO.

Bridesmaid Dresses Can Get You Spanked

It's a fact. Bridesmaid dresses can get you spanked.


Not just any dress, mind. Not just any BRIDESMAID dress, note. It has to be a certain kind. On a certain kind of girl.

Namely, the one that doesn't fit, on a hugely obsessive compulsive girl. Works best on one that has grown up with a family that struggles with weight issues and a mother than binges, then loses 175 pounds through diet(the 400-800 calorie a day kind), bulimia, over-exercise, etc. Especially if that girl is so paranoid about her weight that she remembers being a child and chewing up cookies and spitting them out with her mom, so they got the taste, but not the fat.

Let me be clear: according to Steven, and the Wii Fit, and the Rush Fitness center, I'm not overweight. I'm normal, and for the Rush's system, I'm even fit. But, that's not at all what I see when I look in a mirror. I see fat, hanging out over my pants, my underwear, back-fat draping out over the bra. When I look down, I imagine I can't see my toes.

We had a little experiment one day(not that it started out that way) that showed I usually see my size as about 4-6 sizes bigger than I am. (Long story, not gonna go there, I don't think).

So, back to the bridesmaid dresses. Actually, pause a second; I haven't been posting our ongoing struggle with my eating habits, because they're kind of embarrassing for me. Recently, though, we decided we were going to take a beach trip--Steven asked me to wear a bikini. That flipped my on switch. Hours and hours at the gym, very little to eat, throwing up, laxatives, enemas, the whole nine yards. I don't think it was until this point he realized just how far my issues went. He started keeping tabs on me.

Naturally, I got spanked every time any of these came to light. He started asking me what I'd eaten over the course of a day. It was very trying for me, to say the least.

NOW, back to the bridesmaid dress, with all that history. I'm a friend of mine's bridesmaid. She ordered me  a dress. She ordered her other bridesmaid a dress twice that size. Long story short, I didn't fit in mine, the other girl did, and they have to call and order me a size bigger. I wrote my measurements on my wrist, and I stared at them compulsively throughout the day, until I saw them on the back on my eyelids.


The sad part about what I'm about to tell you--it wasn't my weight that wouldn't let me zip this dress. It was my boobs...they aren't small, and they just would NOT cram into that thing.

BUT...unfortunately, it flicked the same switch. I had been doing a bit better....as soon as I left my friend, I threw up the lunch she'd fed us. I bought some more laxatives. I (am mortified to tell you) that I used an enema. I spent my lunch break at work looking for ipecac. (It's pretty much been discontinued). I threw up some more. I ate nothing else.

And, then, after work, I went home. (Downing another laxative on the way...) Steven took one look at me, and his face tightened. "Spill." I begged to be held first, which he did. And, I told him. I even told him I'd lied the day before when I said I didn't know why I got nauseous after working out, that really, I knew it was because I'd been working out to the throw up part and beyond.

He was livid. I don't know if he was that angry because he thought we'd kicked this, or just over the danger aspect of it. I'd done a couple other, smaller things that I got spanked for, but the one that he really chewed was the weight loss techniques. He looked them up online, showing how each was harmful to the body. He sent me into the kitchen to find something to eat. I managed an oatmeal packet.

Then, he pulled me over to him and dropped my pants. I pleaded to at least start over underwear(not that that ever happens). He  just shook his head and bent me over one leg, so I was resting on the bed. I used this opportunity to bury my head in a pillow and cry before we even really got started.

Once he did, though...OUCH. And, though it had never happened before, I found myself totally pinned. My legs were locked under his, and my free hand was held tightly against my back. And the spanking went on. I asked how much longer, how many...

"Grace, I will go until I'm sure not an inkling of maybe once hoping to think about doing something like ANY of these things will ever again cross your mind. And, if they should, your butt will twinge just for the thought crossing your mind!" And I cried.

And, we moved to a chair so I could go over his knee--a least favorite of mine, as it leaves the upper thighs so clearly in view and reach. I swear..that spanking went on forever.

And I cried.

Finally, when it was over, he pulled me up into his lap. "Do you understand?" he asked me, his face earnest. "Do you understand how hurtful this is? To you? To your body? To us?"

"I don't understand how it hurts you!" I cried harder. "It's making me skinny for you!" He pulled up my shirt and ran his hand over my belly. He told me I was skinny, that I was beautiful, and that it hurt him to think that I thought I wasn't good enough for anything, for him.

I just kept on crying. I tell you, if there was ever a risk of flooding at my house--it was only because I caused it.

I told him about the dress...I hadn't at first, because I knew he'd watch my eating and weight closer if I did. He laughed--"Babe...what was the bust size in that dress?"

"Too small!" I wailed.

 He held me...I needed a lot of holding last night. A lot. And he was there for every part of it.

Not gonna lie. I'm on a pretty short leash with exercise, eating, and weight loss in general. He's definitely keeping an eye on it; like I told him last night--I don't necessarily say, "Ok, I'm going to lose weight and it's going to work like this," and so on.

Mostly, I get upset about my weight, panic, and do everything all at once.

And, yesterday--

It was a bridesmaid dress. Cuz those things are dangerous.

They can get you spanked.