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.