Monday, January 23, 2012

1973

I was 10 years old and some things happened that grown-ups said were important.

Roe versus Wade gave women the right to choose, but I wasn't sure what. The Watergate committee hearings droned on every night on television, so I couldn't watch my shows. And the first POWs were released from Vietnam, which meant some of the girls in my class could take off the MIA bracelets they wore.

But for me, 1973 was the year I learned that, while everyone else had four food groups, I only had two. The foods I should eat and the foods I shouldn't.

It was the year I first heard the word "calories".

It was the year my mother warned of "the chubby store", a place I would have to shop if I didn't lose weight.

It was the year it was explained to me that my sister could have dessert because she had a "metabolism" and I didn't.

It was the year I figured out things went much better if I sucked in my stomach when my mother was near.

It was the year I started pinching myself, trying to twist flesh off like pieces of modeling clay.

It was the year my mother began watching me eat, asking, "Are you really hungry?" and then pursing her lips if I said, "Yes".

It was the year food became more important to me than it ever had. I wanted it. I hated it.

It was the year my body became my shame, a year that lasted well over three decades.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Enough is Enough

It's always better. Which always makes it worse.

Each time we are together, He feels even more like home. And that's why it's so much harder when we part. He, however, is able to walk away with a smile. While I am often left in tears.

I've told Him it makes me I feel as if I'm not enough and He has, I suppose understandably, attributed that to insecurity. But that's not what it is.*

I KNOW I am enough. I am plenty. For me. And, I must believe, someone else. Someone whom I could and would love. It's not just that I want to be another's one and only. I deserve it. And I don't think there is anything unsure or insecure in that.

So. What I need to be able to accept is that He can't be that person right now. Instead, I must be my one and only. I must remain true to me. And for the time being, I will love Him when I can, the best way I can, while trying to allow Him the same.

We'll see where that takes me. Where it takes Him. Where it takes us.

*It's not that I believe I'm not enough. It's that I feel I'm not enough for Him. But we've discussed it and I think I finally get that it really isn't about me. And on some level I already knew that. I've even said it. Months and months ago. It isn't a choice between her and me. The choices He must make are about himself and from those all else will folllow. My head knows this, even if my heart continues to forget it.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Gangsta DDD

Last night I went to a basketball game with my sister and nephews, age 15 and 10. On the way home in the minivan, we overheard this conversation between the boys:

Younger nephew: Auntie DDD is the cool, sexy aunt.

Older Nephew: She's kinda like Nancy Botwin on Weeds.

Younger nephew: You mean cause she's killed someone and had a drug dealer boyfriend?

Older nephew: Awesome.

Me and my sister: WHAT?!!!

They patiently reminded me I was in a car that struck a drunken pedestrian who later died, which is ALMOST like killing someone. And I dated a guy who took drugs, which means he bought them from a drug dealer, which is ALMOST like having a drug dealer for a boyfriend.

Not quite the legacy I had in mind.

Friday, January 20, 2012

My New Lover

How many of you have sat down with pen and paper -- pencil and paper if you've got commitment issues -- and dissected a lover* into two columns. Pro and Con. Like and Dislike. The category names may vary, but the idea is the same.

This morning it hit me like a divorce settlement that I'm done trying to figure out why I should or shouldn't be with someone else. Especially when that someone isn't sure He wants to be with me. Truly be with me.

So. New outlook. New list. MY list. All the reasons I want to be with me. Why I love me. Why I can't imagine being anyone else. And for simplicity's -- and ego's -- sake, I'm only going to focus on my positive attributes.

For the first time in my life, I will celebrate MY cylinder of singularity, MY line of likability, MY trail of endearing traits.

Because, as I texted my bestest friend in the whole wide world yesterday, "I need to concentrate on me. The rest. Whatever it is. Will fall in place."

And I believe that.

*Or a relationship.

Monday, January 16, 2012

My Oh My

I love when He uses little endearments. "Sweetest" melts me. "Sexy" dampens me. But "My" simply undoes me.

Mmmm. The way He wields a possessive adjective. Taking ownership of me, mouthing the word. His tongue still, but poised for what follows. It licks me, flicks me, expelling his Dom Commandments. And my bush does burn. 

I am his. Literally. Figuratively. And grammatically.

NOTE: For related post, see OUR.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Chasteland

I have been aware of the fact for quite some time, but He mentioned it the other day. There is actually very little sex in my sex blog.
I think it's more of a sexy blog. And that's really just because of the photos.

As time goes on, I write more about what comes up in my thoughts and less about what goes down between my legs. It makes sense,
I suppose. He and I see each other once a month instead of a couple times a week. So there isn't a whole lot of sex in my life right now. Mr. Micromoan is such a sorry make-do.

Although He and I have never been further apart, I've never felt closer to Him. I'm not sure I believe "distance makes the heart grow fonder". But I am certain it makes the heart realize just how fond it is of the one distance parts.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Technical Difficulties: The Sequel

Fuck. I HATE this shit. Thanks go out to Dumb Domme for letting me know there were changes made to Blogger Comments, oh, EXACTLY when I started experiencing issues. Every time I click on comments, my screen locks up.

I can comment on other blogs. Other people can comment on my blog. I just can't comment on my OWN blog. A similar bloggular irritation erupted before and I just had to wait it out. Kind of like sex with my ex-husband...

NOTE: I can read your comments on my phone, so please keep sharing them. Hearing from you is always a treat. Thank you!

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Technical Difficulties


It appears Blogger doesn't want my voice to be heard.
Every time I hit the comment button,
my screen locks up.
Call it Literary Laryngitis