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.

Well Whaddya Know About THAT???

You are never going to believe this...



I barely do.

We found our dog, Diesel. The crazy thing about it?? All our suspicions...the theft, all of it...were true. We found this dog a little over an hour away, goofing off in the thief's house. All because of some little old lady.

So, yesterday, as we were pulling into our neighbor's driveway, I noticed a young man in their yard that I had never seen before. So, naturally, I handed him a flyer with Diesel's picture and our information on it. Turns out, he lived there with his sister and grandparents. Well, he showed the grandmother the picture.

Who, in turn, remembered that the granddaughter's boyfriend had asked to borrow a leash from them, for a dog that "a friend had gotten him". But, when she saw the picture, she recognized the dog! And, it was ours! So, after she got down with her chemotherapy, this feisty old woman called the boyfriend up and confronted him about it. He insisted that the friend gave it to him.

She called the friend, who denied it. Well, she went to bed, slept on it, and, having become convinced that it was our dog, gave me a call this morning.

"Hello?"

"Is this Grace?"

"Uh, yeah...may I ask who's calling?"

"This is your neighbor. I think my granddaughter's boyfriend has your dog." I swear, for a moment, I stopped breathing as I listened to her explain her reasoning. She offered to take us this afternoon up to Wears Valley to check it out. Unbeknownst to us, she waited till the granddaughter arrived home and took her phone, not allowing her to call and talk to the boyfriend.

Steven and I spent the whole hour long drive trying to not get our hopes up. We said we doubted it was him.  We said there was no way....right up until we pulled into the driveway and saw our boy, bounding out towards us.

The boyfriend changed his story: "I found him on the side of the road, without a collar." But, Steven overheard him chewing the girlfriend out.

"Well, what did you want me to do, Cody?" she snapped. "Tell them they couldn't come see the dog?"

So, all that to say--we got our boy back! Grace of God, persistence, and a fiery little old woman...who's parting words to us...

"Whaddya reckon that is?"

"Well, looks like some kind of little fish pond..."

"Wonder how he'd take it if I stole that...I sure do hate me a thief! Don't ya'll give him a penny of that reward money, now! Not for stealing your dog!"

So, he's safe and sound, and Blue-dog is happy again. :)

Didn't Quite Make It

Well, as hell-bent as I was yesterday on NOT getting spanked...since after all, I "couldn't handle it"...

I didn't make it. When he first told me to stand up, when I first realized I was getting a spanking, I started crying. Definitely not my normal reaction, but all I could think about was that he had been right. I couldn't handle it, now, look what I'd done...he was going to have to waste more of his time disciplining me. Wonderful.

Granted, he didn't look at it that way at all. Like I mentioned, the stresses of our lives have been just that...OURS. Not just mine. And, he responds out of that sometimes, too. He's not perfect, either. And, sometimes, it's a little tough for me to realize that. He hadn't meant yesterday's question as "You're a burden, can't you PLEASE grow up and straighten up!", even though, that's how I took it.

So, as the night progressed, I withdrew further and further into myself. I wasn't angry. I wasn't upset. I wasn't anything. I was just quiet. Towards the end of a movie we were watching, he paused it and asked me what was wrong. I just kept repeating, in that dead, monotone, please just stop interacting voice, that I'd like to finish our movie. Finally, he sighed.

"Alright, it's only got ten minutes left. But, afterwards, we're going to the bedroom, and we're going to have a little chat, and we're going to fix this." He pressed play. I cried.

I mean, I think it's pretty obvious how that story ended. I wound up getting quite the blistering for shutting down. He asked me at one point if I understood that shutting down was hurtful. I said no.

"You don't? You don't think it's hurtful to yourself? To me? To our relationship?" More tears, but at least some true understanding that of its detriment. He didn't stop then. He didn't stop FOREVER, I'm convinced. Yet, that spanking was a kind of reset. Afterwards, I was clingy, affectionate. He apologized for hurting my feelings."Grace, you know I'd never mean to do that. I was frustrated, and I'm really sorry." We made more signs to put up about Diesel. We snuggled. We ate lemon bars.

And, then, it was over. Just like that. So, even though I didn't make it...

I'm very glad to be out of that mindset.

"Why Can't You Handle It??"

  "Why can't you handle it?? Why do you literally have to be constantly spanked? You get it, and you make it an hour, maybe two, and you're right back where we started!" 

I guess I'm posting because that phrase hasn't stopped banging around in my head, echoing, reverberating off the walls of my skull since Steven said it. It flipped a switch in me faster than any spanking...I'm not sure if it was a good switch or a bad, but I certainly haven't been very feisty, very sassy, very argumentative since. Granted, I haven't really been much of anything. I'm hoping putting it into words I can look at will make it go away, make that phrase leave me alone. Because, for some reason, I can't get past the noise of it.

He's not angry right now. In fact, he's in the kitchen, making me dinner, complete with lemon bars for dessert. It's going to taste lovely, I'm sure.

"Why can't you handle it?"

I'm not angry right now. I'm using Blue-dog as a body pillow and typing up a post. I've got no antsy feelings, I'm not feeling up for a fight or an argument.

"Why can't you handle it?" 

In addition to Grams being diagnosed with Alzheimer's this week, our boxer puppy, Diesel, has gone missing. I've cried every day.


"Why do you literally have to be constantly spanked?" 

I'm ready for this week to be finished. I've been difficult, edgy, weepy, argumentative. I've been obsessive, fixating, desperate to find our beloved dog. After all, that's something I can change, can fix. Grams isn't.

"Why can't you handle it??"


I haven't been a very helpful help-meet at all. He misses Diesel as much, if not more, than I do. It's not fair to him for me to be a brat.

"You make it an hour, maybe two, and then we're right back where we started!" 

I don't feel like a brat, though; I know I've been hard. I've been upset, standing on a knife's edge, where a wrong step to either side is like cliff-diving into a vast openness of emotion. I'd do anything for Grams to not be sick, for Diesel to be home, lying against me, the same as Blue-dog. For us to be our one big happy family.

"Why can't you handle it?"

I've already been spanked once today. It left me surprisingly emotional and needy.

But we had classes to go to, and a dog to find.

"Why do you literally have to be constantly spanked??"

Blue-dog has pined after Diesel, and it's my fault. I let him out, I turned back around to call for Blue. I had my back turned for those vital couple of minutes in which he disappeared.

I know Steven still loves me. Of course he does.

"Why can't you handle it??"

Why can't I handle it?

I don't feel like a brat.

I feel like a burden....

"Why can't you handle it??" 

Time For the A Part of Q&A

Hmm. Let's see. As to the "How did we meet, was it love at first sight" question...well, that's some tricky business, lol.

We met as sophomores in high school. Our teacher had the room set up with two sets of desks, both facing the middle, so that he was able to stand in the center of the room and everyone could see him. Why he couldn't handle the normal, all facing front way is beyond me, but...whatever floats your boat, I guess.

Anyway, Steven sat almost directly across from me. Towards the beginning of the school year, he wore a TSO(Trans-Siberian Orchestra, for those of you who have yet to see the glory of that group! :P) shirt. I was instantly intrigued. So, I approached him after class and asked him if he had seen them in concert, since they'd played in Knoxville not long before. He said that he had, and thus started an instant friendship. He says it was "crush at first sight" for him, if not necessarily love, lol.  And, for a while, I was acutely aware of him, sitting across the way. I made faces, we flirted, it was just general good fun.

And, then, terror of all terrors--he asked me to be his girlfriend. We'd been texting and flirting as teenagers are wont to do, and I felt my stomach curl up into nervous cartwheels of excitement. I said yes.

For...all of 24 hours. Then, I freaked. I was *dating* someone?? What the crap?? No, way, not me, can't do it! I broke up with him. I couldn't quite seem to get rid of him, though, despite the fact I was horrified that I had dated and dumped him, both within the span of a day, and he he still wanted to be *friends*. I'm pretty sure I even asked him what was up with that at one point.

He managed, however, to mostly keep in touch over the next few years. I did my own thing, largely, though, and he did his. I maybe didn't call it love OR a crush, but I was sickly jealous anytime he was dating any one else. I would have told you, even then, that we belonged to each other. "Maybe not in a dating way," I'd say, "But he's mine. I don't like it when he has anyone else. And I'm his. Everybody's just gonna have to deal with that."

He moved away to college, and there was only occasional contact. He dated the same girl for two years...and then, lo and behold, he moved back to home sweet home! Our friendship rekindled like we'd never been away. He broke up with his girlfriend for a week or two, and we were nearly inseparable. There were a couple of times we almost kissed, and to my surprise, the urge was so strong it was a craving. But, we didn't, and he got back with her. One day, she and I both called him at the same time. He answered her. Frustrated, I complained about the incident.

"Don't worry, Grace," he laughed me off. "You'll never be on the backburner with me. Take it easy." Not long after that, he broke up with her again, this time for good. (He was having other problems. I didn't break them up or anything!!) Stupidly, though, I still didn't realize I necessarily liked him. I was in a complicated sort of relationship with another guy for almost eight months after that. And after that, I had a long distance relationship for a couple more.

In the middle of that, though, I realized, "Huh. It's Steven I want to spend all my time with. I think I like him." Terrified of my own sudden surge of feelings, I called my best girl friend and confided in her. "Yeah, and?" she said.

And?? That's all?? What is that supposed to mean??

"It means that boy has been in love with you forever, and you're blind to not see it. Tell him you want him, I promise, he'll return the favor." I didn't believe her. I still met with him, however, and hemmed and hawed around the truth. Finally, he started pushing for me to just tell him. (We'd never had any secrets, and he knew this one.)

"I can't tell you!" I burst out. "You'll never talk to me again."

"Yeah, cuz that would totally be my reaction," he replied. "Come on, you may be surprised. Just tell me." And, he wouldn't let me out of the car till I did. Our relationship has always had a slight element of dominance in it. Then, just like that, we were together. We've definitely had our share of ups and downs. We even broke up once.

We made it like two weeks before we were talking again. But, this time, it's for keeps. So, for him, he says it was "Crush at first sight" and that he waited forever for me. For me, it was a little more complicated. Mostly because I was an idiot forever lol. But, it's love now, lol, and that's all that matters.

As for our favorite baby step? I personally have loved the freedom and trust it's given us. I hear women talking about being "scared" to tell their man about something they'd done. I don't have that. I know I'll get spanked, but I don't worry about him leaving. I don't worry about long, cold silences; I don't have to. It was quite a stretch to trust him like that...ironically enough, I've always trusted him not to physically hurt me...but, before, he would shut down and shut me out. And I'd yell and scream horrible things. DD has given us a block for that, and has really helped shut out the more destructive things in our relationship. With it, we know we're on the same team, with the same goals.

And for what's given me joy? I love how he's learned to comfort, and how I've learned that I really can lean on him. I think because he requires such vulnerability from me, he's really shown himself vulnerable to me. DD does more than just spank the woman, after all...it gives the man a standard to live by also, and helps both parties move towards a mutual strengthening of each other and the relationship. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Despite the fact I'm horribly sore this morning....

As he says, it shows how much he loves me. (I only disagree when there's a wooden spoon in his hand. :P)

Staggering

You've all heard that old saying, "When it rains, it pours."

It's pouring.

And, I've never been so thankful for Steven in my life, who endlessly seems to know what to do, what to say, how tight to hold me.

My whole life, I've been very attached to the older members of my family--my grandparents, my great-grandparents. Now, only one of them is still alive. My dear sweet Grams. And, I mean, we are TIGHT. This is the old woman I convinced to go skinny-dipping in icy mountain water. Who I kidnap to play random games(Candyland included!), who I can drop in on at any hour of the day or night.

Who was the first person to know that I had slept with Steven. To have been the only one to sit through the ups and downs of our ever intense relationship. Who gave me hot tea when I cried or when I griped. Who taught me my love of books and spent my whole life with a library card on hand, just in case.

This is the woman I randomly drop by to get and take to the mountains or the Cove, just to watch her light up at the sight of the river and trees. This is the woman who first introduced me to the name Jesus. I love her deeply, I love her dearly.

This is the woman who will be teacher at heart, hopefully till the day she dies. I've lost count of the days that I spent, struggling with some obscure concept that she made clear in five minutes. Or the times she told me that I held my pencil wrong(I still do). This woman sacrificed her time and energy on a cousin that I love--her parents are druggies, and Grams has stepped in a million times.

This is the woman who isn't afraid to cry, but couldn't yell to save her life. Her biggest curse is "Fiddle-dee-dee-and-a-farm-in-Georgia!" Her favorite drink is Sleepytime Celestial Tea, and who carries a packet of Earl Grey in her purse, in case we should go out to eat.

She is the woman who told me the love story between her and my grandfather a million times, I think just to remember how strong that love was.

This is the woman who has Alzheimer's.

This is the woman who will gradually forget who I am, and how much I love her.

She will forget holding my hand when I learned to walk.

She will forget the mountains and the river.

She will forget that she ever loved my grandfather.

She will forget that I hold my pencil wrong.

She will forget me.

And, I'm not at all sure I'm strong enough to lose her.

The Question Month...Who Knew?

First off, I didn't know this question thing was happening, but, as I am an avid blog reader, have discovered that it is.

Then, I thought to myself...

Nah...not for me..

But, why not?

So, if you have any questions---

Shoot. :) I'll do my best!