Waiting for...

Another geek out

Well it was a day of doing nothing we liked in favour of doing stuff that needed to be done. Those days just suck for the record. Anyway He made plans to go over to our vanillas in an endeavour to salvage something of the day. So off we scampered with Him clutching his newest possession... Star Trek Expeditions the board game.

Now as many of you know one has an extreme aversion to playing games... of any sort. In fact one did enquire gently as to why we couldn't just go over for coffee and a chat like normal people. To which He replied that competitive behaviour was normal... it's what got our ancestors out of their caves. Sighs hate it when He might have a logical basis to his defence L

Anyway it was with quiet determination that He set up the game with only his mini-me looking thrilled. And one suspects that was because he was sitting there playing with the Enterprise and the Klingon Battle Cruiser...

Yes that's right, the game is HeoClix based so there are toys miniatures.

So we began our three pronged campaign to get Nibia to join the federation...

We actually had a good time... and no one was more surprised than oneself. The creator managed to capture that feeling of this is a nice simple mission that goes to hell in a hand basket... with Kirk there ready to take off his shirt with little provocation be diplomatic when needed. It is a cooperative board game rather like Pandemic, but with HeroClix features thrown in. The game can be played with 1-4 players and there is an expansion pack on order.

Mutters and while one is loath to admit this... it was actually a good night J

Fatal attraction

For the record there is something worse than coming back from your first 5km run and seeing Him coast over the crest of the hill on his way home. That's actually finding Him home already...

Oopsie... small shame face

He was... remarkably understanding and one was still in time to take off his shoes...

Of course being Scorpio He just had to get in a few jabs...

Well I'm glad you have found something you love now that you no longer find me attractive He remarked

Umm... you ain't that skinny yet

You can feel my hip bones He said, sounding mildly miffed

Yes, but you have to feel for them. They are a long way from being jutting, jabby things

Oh they have just done a study (He said changing the subject slightly) and found that when women are showed pictures of naked men and asked to rate how attractive they found them, the women rated those with larger penises as more attractive. So much for a good sense of humour, He added

Well let's be honest we were designed to procreate. You are going to want the best junk available...

Or nice eyes He carried on

Yeah, but in fairness those things probably are important... they are going to get your junk viewed. Women don't usually see men naked off the bat

They do these days He said. Just think about online He added

And one did think about it... all those cock shots that we have seen and loved...

Oh wait... generally we don't. In fact we usually complain about them or laugh. Hmm... Maybe all those men weren't wrong and maybe we are just kidding ourselves...

Or maybe the penises weren't big enough to make the man attractive J

How low will you go?

We were chatting about goals on this diet and where we want to be. Actually what He said was, are you sure you don't want to shoot for a size 8 (about an American 4). Of course what part of the brain... the largely irrational part of the brain might one add... heard was, you still need to lose weight. Now it is irrational because one knows He loves the way one looks at any size. He just isn't the kind of person who has strong preferences about size.

Why the irrational part of the brain got loose was that personally one doesn't like body fat on oneself. There was a reason why in the mid twenties one was wearing girls clothes... apart from that not really eating thing.  And frankly even now, when looking in the mirror, all one can see is fat... rather like when one was twentysomething. Mild body dysmorphia is a strange thing and frankly one isn't convinced that most body sculptors and builders don't have it to some degree. Why else would you spend so much time in the pursuit of physical perfection... 'cos gods know it ain't the food or the taste of the supplements L

Of course all of this slightly irrational thinking, lives jammed up against the reality that one actually likes being curvy and prefers sexual partners with a bit of padding. There is nothing less sexy than sharp little bones poking into you at unexpected times... or in unexpected places. Well that and partners who can get into your clothes...

Meh human beings... rational creatures we ain't K

Anyway this brief burst of insanity was caused by the discussion about goals. See when one embarked on this it was to be supportive to Him in his endeavours towards wellness. To be honest one really didn't think one would lose all that much weight. At best one thought it would clean up the diet and help maintain the weight. Though one did say it would be nice to hit about 25% body fat, which would put one in the athletic range at one's age... hey you need to shoot for the moon.

Historically one has failed all diets and actually gained weight on some. That's what PCOS does... messes with your metabolism. Now the experts all say that low carb diets work best with PCOS. What they seem to have neglected to mention was that for some not all low carb diets are equal. It would seem that in the past they simply hadn't been low carb enough... cos this is working. In fact the weight has peeled off slowly and steadily.

To the point that one is now facing some serious choices about how far one wants to take this. First goal weight was getting in those size 12s that were just given away. Second goal weight is getting into the new size 10s with a bit of room to spare... so about two or three more kilos.

Size 8 huh?

Perhaps it is time to get another fat test...

Before the insanity gets completely out of hand L

Is nothing sacred?

You know it is sometimes amazing how far He will go to prove one wrong...

It started over something silly...

As stupid things often do...

And culminated with Him not only getting into, but doing up, one small slave's new jeans...

Just to prove that He could

It left one with the disturbing realisation that one is in danger of ending up with a super skinny partner... yanno the kind that always make you look and feel fatter than you are

Mind you the thought did flit across the mind that when the jeans are just out of the wash He could stretch them out a bit first...

What do you reckon the chances are of Him doing something helpful like that are?

Sighs oh well it was just a thought...

NB On reading this He said no because he would be too thin in a couple of weeks to be able to stretch them...

Bitch!

The rough with the not very smooth

Today was Anzac Day here. A day where we remember those who served and died in assorted parts of the world. It is also a public holiday (one of the very few where virtually everything is shut) to facilitate those who wish to attend dawn services and marches around Australia and New Zealand. At least it is for some...

One member of this household works for an evil empire that never shuts, regardless of the occasion and needless to say He was miffed that one of us had the day off and it wasn't him. Thinking about it that might account for what transpired...

See He went to bed, had a little sex to put him to sleep and then one small slave trotted down the other end of the hallway to colour his mother's hair. It was a small price to pay for the Anzac biscuits.

That is the other tradition here... Anzac biscuits. And His mother makes the best ones ever... good enough to break the diet for... more than once. Fortunately she only makes them once a year... more than that our waists couldn't stand. In spite of all that gratitude one did grumble about having to go. Frankly, the idea of curling up next to Him for a nap was far more appealing.

Well you are more than welcome to come back and curl up here when you are finished He said

And really one small slave should have been alerted by that generosity of spirit...

Slipping quietly onto the bed an hour later one made small nesting motions... only to be pounced upon. Removing hot body parts off one's personage one small slave wriggled away. Only to realise He was actually awake. See normally He does that in his sleep... it's like a reflex. He senses a warm body and pounces. This time was different. Not only was He compos mentis but dangerous...

A mouth attached to a nipple and His fingers forced their way between thighs. Then before one had time to draw breath His cock was forced into one's mouth. Just long enough to get a good coating of saliva before one was hauled onto Him.

Dammit you are getting bigger with this weight loss (which as an aside is about 81 pounds in His case so far)

He thrust upwards a couple of times

Oww!

He smirked

FFS! Smirking is not the correct response to your partner's pain

He carried on regardless until we were sated

One lay there afterwards hot, sweaty and no longer snoozy or snugly. He did not have the same problem, rolling over and going back into a deep sleep.

Bastard!

Incoming

We get a lot of mail in the inbox. Some of it one could cheerfully do without... those often end up featured on this blog. And then there are some that are just... well words one never, ever thought to see again.

One such email arrived today proclaiming the bold words...

The perfect poncho

Yeah have to say that one small slave had one of those. It was in the 70's and one used to run around with it pulled up over the head pretending that it was long hair. The irony was of course that one actually did have long hair...

Obviously it wasn't long enough

And oddly enough that strange little memory is not enough to make one want to wiz out and buy one again... ever! 

It's all His fault

That's a hell of a bruise on your thigh, He commented

Yeah it was probably you

Probably, He queried in a tone of complete disbelief

Well most of them are caused by you. If you didn't do this one, you will most likely cause the next one

This is why I accept no responsibility for any of them He said, shaking his head in disbelief

Mutters and yet the bruise is in the shape of a perfect thumb print...

As promised...

We nipped out yesterday and picked up the bra from Simone Perele...

The style is called Olympe

Running is dangerous

There were the last vestiges of the migraine from hell this morning. So one did the sensible thing of hauling on running gear to go and see if the body could kick around some endorphins and mitigate some of it. Running is the least favourite past time... ever. That is mainly because one is still too heavy for it. When we think of running we think of a graceful gait like a gazelle, when in reality one looks and feels more like a large cart horse clumping along. Yet still one persists because it is so good for the lungs... if not the pride.

For the last few months one has been steadily working a two prong attack on the running thing. You need both stamina and speed to run well. So there have been timed runs to increase the endurance and laps to increase the explosive speed component. Now the longer timed runs are fine... if a little cart horseish. But the explosive speed is... well let's just say that the cart horse is going to fall prey very quickly shall we?

Today it finally came together on the laps. The body hit its stride and the run was magic. The legs and the breathing synced up, the endorphins flowed and that wonderful feeling of joy suffused everything. There was no pain... just peace and perfection...

Right up until one went home and managed to burn a finger on some oil in a pan

Quite badly too one suspects...

Not quite sure how badly 'cos there are still too many endorphins floating around, but the blister that is forming probably isn't a good sign

But the run was bliss J

It was the drugs talking

It was a strangely mixed day, rather like the universe couldn't make up its mind which way it was going to go. The opening salvo was day three of the worst migraine imaginable, one of those that start in the right occipital lobe and travel to the eye via the longest route it can find. It's the kind that is quite unresponsive to the migraine medication in any meaningful way. Oh one is up, but the vision in the right eye is spotty and the will to live is weak.

To make matters worse one had to go to work... they were so short staffed there was no one else and besides, the script was finished and one needed another repeat. He was very kind and took one, without charging his usual premium transportation fee. Though one does suspect the interest on the tab went up a couple of points. For a change one was too sick to quibble.

About halfway through the morning, just as one was contemplating dying, the little bus friend popped her head round the door and said I'm getting a lift home this afternoon, do you want a ride. At that moment she looked more like Glenda the Good Fairy than anyone human. So after work one strolled up to her latest place of employment, via the bag shop to buy His mother a new wallet for Mother's Day, to wander round her shop looking at jeans.

As it turned out it was a very good time to do so. They were having a sale and one managed to score two pairs for half price. And more importantly they were in a colour one could live with. You know one never realised how fussy one was about jean colours and washes, until having to replace them three times in under a year. Or maybe it is that the manufacturers have just brought out shit colours this season... seriously who wants sky blue denim or worse that all over navy colour?

Anyway as one finally crawled through the door, she had the close from hell and it was way later than intended, one found a note from Him. Wake me if you need KFC. Honestly one would have killed for spicy fried chicken, but refrained knowing that He was probably sleep derived enough. The offer was beyond kind though. In fact one might have fallen a little bit more in love with the man right there on the spot. Cupboard love... see it's real J

Sitting there, recounting the day, one watched as His face started to get that smile...

What are you thinking?

Oh I was just thinking that I'm going to enjoy watching you beg to wear those new jeans, He replied

What is your issue with the jeans?

I prefer something with easier access He said, as though it was the most reasonable answer on earth

But you said one can wear the rock star jeggings (there's Word lighting up again) at any time without permission. What's the difference?

Because I said so

But that is illogical. Not to mention inconsistent. A twoo master is never inconsistent... Fet says so one added sounding smug

Now one admits that might not have been an A grade answer, but one was nearly asleep as one sat there...

He turned, beaming that dazzling smile with gently gaping jaws and said I can be as inconsistent as I like. Just watch me. Otherwise it will be skirts only... forever.

Sighs you know the debates on Fet never go this way... at all L

Superiority

The topic of male superiority keeps coming across the feeds in an indirect way of late and it always makes the eyeballs roll in the back of the head. If only because one believes that the whole idea is a load of crock. Don't get one wrong, some people are superior to others. They are kinder, faster, (insert criterion of choice here), smarter or simply have better genes.  

Oddly enough being richer doesn't make a person superior in one's book. Even though some do seem to think that counts. Personally one thinks that is a different issue altogether, but that isn't what this is about. This is about the idea that one gender is superior to another and you will note that those criteria are not based on some nebulous gender role.

Overall men might be faster and stronger, but it doesn't always make them smarter. Now round here He is faster, smarter and generally superior in strength... apart from that little gym episode... but we don't talk about that. The reality is that in a gym one can out lift Him on some equipment. Of course He can move his mothers TV that weighs in at more than 50 kg while one struggles to lift an end of the damn thing.

This is offset by the fact that He is disorganised, unless it is something that really interests him, and completely oblivious to his environment. Now that is an area that one can shine in... when allowed. There are also those unfortunate squirrel genes that make Him something of a hoarder by nature... again an arena that one can manoeuvre in... eyes off His wardrobe once more

All of that doesn't make Him superior. It makes us differently abled and complimentary.

It also makes Him a perfectly normal flawed human being who can run one into the ground. He was blessed with that explosive speed thing...

Bastard!

And on an unrelated note...

When you work any type of retail you end up with favourite customers. As a rule they are the ones who make you laugh or are just so lovely that you can't help but like them. Often when you chat to them over time you find out that they have lead extraordinary lives.  Today one of the more favourite ones came in and made a rather odd request to say a prayer for her.

Now it was an odd request of a firm agnostic, not to mention it was out of the blue, so of course one enquired as to why she would need them. It seems that they have found lung cancer and are set to remove part of her lungs rather than go the chemo route. Chatting to her one could hear her body struggle to get breath as she spoke. Words came out with that all too familiar wheezing, gasp sound that is never a good indicator.

It was only caught because her regular doctor was away and the new bloke, rather than hearing her chest and thinking oh it's just the remains of the pleurisy/ pneumonia that she had at Christmas (the woman doesn't have what you would describe as good health) , had sent her off for chest x-rays. That was when they found the shadow and sent her off for even more painful, invasive tests. As she said some of them were worse than the news they finally gave her. That new was, of course, that the nodes in her lungs were cancerous.

That charming, energetic, immaculately turned out 72 year old woman has survived floods, uprisings, breast cancer, an assortment of surgeries and long term ill health. She is the sort of woman who makes you laugh because as she says if you don't sometimes you will just cry. Now one isn't much for prayers, but one sincerely hopes that she will pull through. Work is certainly a brighter place when she turns up. 

A twoo master

Waltzing through the door with dancing visions of food... and something for the headache that the bus ride home had not mysteriously fixed... one small slave contemplated the evening ahead with the quiet pleasure of someone who has plans. Of course He changed all of that by sliding open the heavy glass door and appearing like an apparition in the midst of those visions.

Were you lying in wait?

Sort of. I can't sleep He said, looking grim and chirpily awake at the same time.

Now when you work nights and can't sleep it is a problem 'cos your chances of making it through the night in one piece are decreased... if you don't end up falling asleep on the job, you can end up falling asleep at the wheel

Well perhaps you had better call in sick and see if they can get a replacement

He stood there a minute contemplating being responsible against being smart before tottering off to make a call and settle in to play hooky

How does He always do that? It's like a preternatural talent, rather like the cat always knows which part of the paper you are reading and sits right on that spot.  People often ask what makes a Master. Well one is here to tell you it's that talent for smelling plans and shoving a large spanner in them... with an effortless grace L

The novelty toy

Every once in a while an oddity comes across our feed and one just has to share...

Are you looking for a gift that can be engraved with a personal message?

Need a new data stick that will hold up to 16 GB?

Want something that has a dual function?

Looking for a vibe you can discretely recharge at work?

Well this might just be for you J

Perception is...

Having packed the last of the size 12s (about a UK 14 and an US 8) into a bag to give away one has started to reflect on a few things. The first is that if we want to become a global village then we are really going to have to rectify the shocking sizing standards we employ between countries. Not one sizing chart on the web actually agrees with each other. It makes buying online and indeed between companies nearly impossible.

The second thing is that they say with weight loss that it takes two week before we notice a difference, a month before our friends notice and three months before the rest of the world notices. Have to be honest and say so far it's happened in reverse and frankly, when looking in the mirror, one can't see any difference between the size 12 and the size 10 until one puts the clothes on. In fact one is starting to suspect that perception is a sick and twisted thing that shouldn't be trusted...

That brings us to Him. Against one's better judgement one is going to admit publically that He is better at picking clothes for one small slave than one would like to admit. He has a good grasp of a petite frame... except for that denim belt. That one will never admit to... besides it's downright draughty in places. Might one add it is draughty in mostly the places that a skirt shouldn't have wind whistling around L

What one can't quite work out is if He really has nailed the clothing thing or if one has just been massaged into accepting his perceptions of what looks good. Some feminist theorists have said that women tend to only see themselves through other's eyes. And one isn't convinced that this isn't what this is about. Seeing His approval reinforces the idea that something looks good, just as that look reinforces the idea that item shouldn't be bought.

And ultimately does it matter? Shouldn't His perceptions be the only ones that count?

Meh some days there are more questions than answers...

Into the flood

It was Sunday so off we scampered to our vanillas for the day. It was ostensibly to go roll playing, but to be honest it didn't get that far. In some ways it is His fault... and partly because she had a roaring ear infection, which having had the odd one, does send you slightly insane. Though that temporary insanity does account for what happened next...

We're going to see They Might Be Giants He announced, casually chumming the waters with an expert hand.

They perked with interest, being fans of them, but didn't bite quite as expected as they are a bit broke at the moment.

They are playing Flood in its entirety He said, tipping the remains of the bait bucket over the side.

She looked at her partner.

What do you want me to do he asked, looking torn.

I want you to say that we are transferring the money out of our savings account onto the credit card she replied

There was a sudden flurry of movement as money transfers and online ticket purchases were done.

It seems Flood was her favourite album and oddly enough the concert He saw in 1990, when it was released. That of course led to discussions about how many cars to take, who they were going to con into babysitting, where we were going to eat, what food we needed to have at their place for our return and where one was going to snooze. That last one is 'cos we figure us two girls will slope off to bed, while they stay up all night talking about RPGs and playing Xbox together.

The discussion finally turned to the game we were supposed to be playing, only to discover that he had put the books somewhere and couldn't find them. That was fine 'cos she was as sick as a dog by that stage and one has an almost legendary disinclination towards playing in the first place...

So here we are; off to see our first live performance together as couples.

Not quite what people think about when imagining what a BDSM relationship looks like...

And we still hadn't resolved the important question of what to wear...

'Cos it is more than possible that His mini-me will open the door wearing the same t-shirt as Him, which will take our friendship to a new and awkward plane K

OKay...

As some of the readers here know He is the younger man... and frankly as he loses weight, he is looking younger with every passing day. In fact one is starting to look like a bigger cougar by the minute... which some days does make one feel older than vanity would allow, but that isn't what this is about. Actually it is... indirectly.

See the day had started innocently enough with Him mentioning last night that They Might Be Giants are about to tour here, for the first time in twelve years. On one hand He wanted to go and on the other hand it might sully his fond memories of them. That is always the trouble with seeing great bands from your past... but one does digress. Anyway as this went back and forth He asked if one would like to go. That elicited a slightly nervous snicker... it's been years since one has gone to see a live... anything really come to think of it.

In fact the last performer one saw live was Billy Bragg... when he was still full of rage. Unlike his latest musical offering, which while very polished and the best thing he has produced in years, failed to convince one that any rage he felt was actually backed up by the belief that singing about it would bring about change...

Sighs see age wearies us all...

Actually that's not quite true...

The last live performance one went to see was Henry Rollins and that man still kicks butt at any age. In fact he still manages to convince you that change is not only possible, but can probably be brought about by extreme violence... or at least talking about it.

But one does digress again... back to the nervous snickering

That was where we left the conversation... and one drifted off to work this morning in a drug hazed state as one fought off, rather unsuccessfully, day three of the migraine or is it day four? They are starting to bleed together...

Now to be honest one did rather think that was the end of the conversation. He was in no rush to buy tickets and one figured come the time He would probably forget and/ or have moved onto the next disturbing idea...

So you can almost imagine the shock one felt to find two tickets stuck on the fridge upon one's return home.

Along with the venue’s stipulations...

Standing room only and photo id a must...

Good gods they are going to card someone almost old enough to be their... mother's much older sister perhaps?

And what the fuck does one wear to something like this?

And how does He always manage to find things that not only drag one out of the comfort zone, but make one feel older than god?

Bastard!

And we wonder why

The migraine had reached the level where it was getting harder to ignore, so taking more meds one rang work and called in sick. Then as the migraine slid to the point of being ignorable one did the time honoured thing and went and did something more interesting. Yes that's right, one small slave played hooky and went to the city. Sighs let us hope that doesn't come back to bite one on the arse...

It was a strange sensation pottering around the city alone. In fact one can't remember the last time one was there without Him. There was the odd moment of panic when looking around for Him he was nowhere to be found. But His voice was ever present... in fact his parting shot was remember what would Master like. Sighs there was more than one moment when the hand reached out to touch something only to hear that voice in the head K

Anyway it was the end of the mid-season sales and being, once again, in need of clothes one pottered around replacing a few essentials. The gym gear that is falling off, a pair of jeggings (oh there goes Word lighting up), a denim skirt that actually covers the arse and a lovely purple dress. Not a word about the colour from the peanut gallery...

One of the strange things about a migraine is it makes the sense of smell go into overdrive. As one was pottering around the department store all one could smell was KFC. The place was four floors down... and yet the nose could smell it as well as any hounds. So off one scampered for a little illicit fried chicken. Only to be confronted with one of those upsized meals... for less money than two pieces one could have three.

Upsizing is something that very few companies do here... other than Coke of course. And it is the devils invention... to give you more for less. It gets you used to the idea that you can consume more until it becomes normal.

And we wonder why we have become an obese nation L

OFFS!

Today one small slave became that gym member. Some of you have seen that member... the one who goes to the gym twice, in the same day. Now there were legitimate reasons... a bad headache had left one unable to do weights on Wednesday night and they couldn't be done on Friday 'cos they were going to be done again on Saturday. And there was enough time to squeeze them in this evening 'cos the running had been done early in the morning. All of these assorted justifications aside...

Going to the gym twice in one day is an obvious cry for help

Never in all the years of exercise has one fronted up for a double workout. Only the insanely dedicated over trainer goes twice in one day

It is time to stage an intervention L

The great continuum con

As human beings we love nothing more... well other than a good bit of gossip... than a good way to explain human behaviour. Over the years there have been lots of models, but the great favourite seems to be the spectrum or continuum. Slot a person along its length from left to right and let them slide. Rather like a hare on a race track whizzing along.

Now sometimes these continuums are useful things... explaining human sexuality is one of those as an example. Other times they aren't so crash hot. Trying to deconstruct submissives and slaves is one of those spectacular failures. It's not quite up there with the nine levels of submission twaddle that someone went to so much trouble to try and categorise... and it sure as shit isn't as funny as the 128 rules of submission. But one digresses... back to the continuum and why it has "issues".

Let us overlook for a minute that it implies that submission is a state of being rather than a personality trait. Something that one doesn't think is the case at all, but then one is a pedant who thinks that the word submissive wasn't intended to be a noun. It does however, open up a wealth of problems in that it assumes that we have submissive at one end and slave at the other and they are some sort of progression along that line. It's a bit like the enlightenment theory... onwards and ever upwards.

One of the problems with viewing submission and slavery as a progression is that it sets people up to be competitive and just as you will always find some arsehole who will go that extra mile to win, you will find someone else who doesn't think that competing was enough of an inclusive experience... they wanted to place higher than last. The thing is, if all this competitive behaviour wasn't enough of an issue in its self, that behaviour is gloriously exploitable in the right hands. This brings us to the con part of this...

There are certain types of dominants who use the word slave as a weapon to leverage compliance out of a person. It's usually wrapped up in terms like not slave enough, a real slave... It works 'cos some people are competitive enough to want to aspire higher. They see being a submissive as somehow lesser than being a slave and slave is what they aspire to. Though gods know why 'cos it ain't glamorous people... ask any of us... in fact some of us blog about it incessantly J

Then we come to us... as our own worst enemy. It seems reading around those blogs there are those of us who are just only too happy to beat ourselves up over not being slavey enough. Those who read others posts and blogs in the light of they make me feel lesser than them. And those of us who are just that competitive that we can't simply be our master's slave and accepting that their views are the only ones that should count.

All of these issues could be removed by the whole concept of the submissive/ slave continuum just disappearing quietly to whence it came from. Of course that won't happen 'cos rather like a good bit of gossip it has taken on a life all of its own. And like all good cons it has grown, had wrinkles added to it and is happily applied by a certain type...

Maybe we could at least stop beating ourselves up with it... that would be a start J

It's Tuesday

The day started with a dawn wakeup call in the form of being roughly used before He rolled over and went back to sleep. And you would think that would have improved His mood yet here we are... jammed full of the green eyed monster again... on the way out to buy groceries

To be honest though, one suspects that large plug might have resulted from an incident in the gym...

Honestly people pay to have someone encourage them to more exertion in the gym and one offered the service for free. There is a distinct lack of gratitude around here sometimes...

Though in hindsight saying that one would leave Him to finish using the girly weights might have been... tactless... and insensitive...

But He's never going to grow without a little pain...

Hmmm... maybe that was rather His point too K

Desecrator!

Running home from the gym, just ahead of the rain... you know sometimes paranoid people are right, something is out to get them... one burst through the door feeling as high as a kite.

Where's dinner, bitch?

Peering across His desk, in that tone he reserves for one small slave when she has obviously lost her mind, He replied up the road

Realising dinner was not going to be more forthcoming than that, one turned on the oven to make dinner

Actually I wouldn't mind a hamburger He said, just as one started to take out ingredients

Now we haven't had a hamburger since August and right at that point, having done heavy weights, frankly one would have eaten the cow and chased the next one down. Besides it was a free day so what the hell. So off one scampered to the shower for a quick sluice off. Tossing on that damn skirt... and after pointing out to HIm that the positive reinforcements of food were not making one any more inclined to becoming desensitised to the air whistling around one's arse when wearing it... off we set.

We got to one of the local burger joints to find a drive thru queue stretching back way further than anticipated for a wet Monday night. Sighing with resignation we waited, for an indecent amount of time for fast food. Finally clutching our bag we made the run home to try our first hamburger in eight months.

And oh gods was it vile... mushy, tasteless, lukewarm... ugh!

It was roughly 800 calories of crap that left us feeling less than satisfied. 

That's the last time He is going to be in charge of making dinner... 

Honestly the body is a temple and He treats it like the sacred prostitute. Though that confusion might account for what happened later...

The long relationship

And the pitfalls of them...

Often when out and about you see pets and their owners who really are that cliché... they look just like each other. In fact they bear such a striking resemblance to each other it is rather creepy. Well the same thing can happen to humans and their mates. There was the odd occasion that it happened with the ex. We would look at each other and think nice outfit... and then realise we were both wearing it.

In this relationship it was never such an issue. He dressed in geeky t-shirts and jeans while one tended towards slightly overdressed. Though we often looked very mismatched as a couple it was ultimately safe. All that has ended though as we enter into a slimmer phase. In fact getting out the door has become a very complicated process...

What are you wearing?

Not sure yet. How about you?

Well I was thinking about wearing X

And you think that communication would neatly solve the problem wouldn't you? Sighs you would be wrong

Today was a shining example...

Off to see our vanillas for the day He is picking an outfit while one is in the shower. Having decided to wear those fabulous rock star jeggings... even Word sensibly refuses to acknowledge that as a word... before they are too big to wear, one is having that lovely moment in the shower when there is a clear plan...

If I wear X will that be too close to what you are wearing He enquired, cutting through that moment of calm

Don't know... just put it on. Mutters and let one shower in peace!

Coming out one finds Him resplendent in ultra skinny black jeans and a t-shirt with a bold stripe design...

Well there goes the stripe top one planned on wearing...

Back to the wardrobe one goes...

Too big, too clingy, too... oh that will be perfect. Oh, no it won't it's the same colour as the stripe in His shirt... too coordinated to go out together...

Yeah don't like how that fits....

And on and on this process goes until one finds the perfect top...

Oh that's very nice and dressy. You could wear that out to dinner. You make me feel very underdressed He says

Back into the wardrobe one goes...

You know it is taking longer to get out a door than you would think possible...
And frankly His suggestion of stripper boots and short shorts is not helpful at all... regardless of what he thinks L

Squirrels ahoy

He stumbled out into the evening light... sleepy, half awake and in fact only awake because of a massive downpour that occurred just as one had left the gym. You know one is starting to suspect the weather waits until one is about to exit that place before opening up the flood gates. Mind you as a positive side of this, one is getting much faster on the run home... nothing like a little incentive K

After He had pottered around for a while, having decided it wasn't worth going back to bed for the half hour that remained, one small slave pounced...

So, you ready to try on your t-shirt yet?

I am not going to encourage the petty, spiteful behaviour of my slave by trying on that t-shirt He replied, sounding all dignified from his high road

Sighs sometimes one does think it is a shame He reads the blog so diligently...

Mutters you wait, that bloody t-shirt is going to sit in the cupboard unworn for another 15 years, this time because it is too big...

A whine... without cheese

Tonight there was five minutes to start sorting out the winter clothes. Yes it has finally happened. Winter is starting to arrive... so excited. There are so many clothes ready for winter to go with the new boots. Well that was before the wardrobe incident...

Yes that's right. It seems one might have underestimated how much weight was going to be lost before it arrived. All those fabulous sexy jeans that He actually approved? There is one pair that fits and one that is holding on until winter is officially here... you know with cold weather. Then one deeply suspects it will go sorry... we are working on your complaint L

The stupid thing is that in real terms one has only lost about 1 kg (about 2 lbs) in the last two months and yet it has translated into a clothing size. It probably means the next fat test will be very interesting because to do that fat has gone down and muscle has gone up... theoretically. At the last fat test one was holding about as much muscles as a female can hold... so that is going to be very interesting.

Anyway the long and the short of this is...

What has one learnt from all of this?

Never, ever assume you know what a body is capable of... sometimes it just might surprise you

Never spend that kind of money on a hot frock as a reward to yourself... no matter how hot it looks at the time

Never, ever buy clothes unless they are on sale and are for now... until this journey has finished

Mind you the feelings of annoyance were offset by the fact that He weighed in at just shy of his first goal weight. So we did a quick rummage through His t-shirts as a reward. There were a few favourites that didn't make the cull. Feeling somewhat... petty vindictive spiteful oh hell even one small slave can't put a positive spin on that feeling... the hand reached into the wardrobe for one of His major goal t-shirts. A Joy Division (Love Will Tear Us Apart) t-shirt from when we first met. He suddenly needed to get showered ready for work...

Coward!

Come back and face your reward like a man

Sighs loss really doesn't bring out the best in one at all...

His way

Why is it that your happiness takes precedent in all things?

His hand reached up lazily to rattle the collar

You know that isn't the answer to everything right?

His hand slid into the collar, cutting off the air supply slightly as it curled around it firmly

Though you might be making a valid point

K

The better part of masochism

It is probably no big surprise to the regular readers here that pain is not really one's thing. Well certain types of pain aren't. You will never come here and be confronted with bleeding body parts... actually that isn't quite true, a lot of those bruises on here are just that... but you won't find blood gushing out of open wounds. In fact one would go as far as saying that one small slave is the world's lousiest masochist... ever.

However, as one sits here with a cup of tea, an illicit granny smith apple and some rather good blue vein cheese... King Island Roaring 40s (for those so inclined)... it has started to come to one's attention that there are muscle groups at the moment that are not cooperating as fully as they could. In fact they are sending very strong messages of pain, to any brain receptor that will receive them. Actually the bicep is taking extreme issue with the whole act of raising the tea to the lips and the shoulders are backing up their complaint. And that level of pain is pretty much constant and ever present... it just changes location.

All of this leads one to wonder if the masochism one is equipped with is highly specialised. It is quite happy to support muscles being ripped apart to regrow... in fact the body is flooded with happy endorphins as one types... but it draws the line at gratuitous pain inflicted by others... glares at a certain someone.

In fact it screams red at the slightest provocation.

Now if one could just get Him to hear it...

We could live in a world without a wall covered in ouchie slappy things...

What a wonderful world it would be J

The green eyed monster

Tuesday is traditionally spent grocery shopping... together. We both hate doing it so it seems only fair that we should suffer the shared experience. Brings us closer together and all that... well let's be honest... bullshit. The truth of the matter is one small slave doesn't drive and He likes to eat... it doesn't leave a raft of alternatives J

It does however seem to make Him somewhat mean spirited on Tuesday...

See there one was in the shower shaving, when He appeared like an apparition in the mist. All that steam is probably a sure sign that one does like the shower too hot... oh and that He is a perve who is drawn to the whole process. After watching for a while He handed one the lube...

And please don't get one wrong... there was gratitude for the lube...

It's just that it spoils the whole feeling of being clean and... well, pristine. In fact it makes one feel decidedly grubby being smeared with lube and cum L

As it turned out His reaming one in the shower was a courtesy warm up because He decided that shopping would be best accompanied by a nice large butt plug. That was how one found oneself wearing the green eyed monster after a rather long absence. When we first started out it was the only plug we had. You will note His philosophy of go big or go home in action...

And the body did get used to it being worn all the time. In fact it was very comfortable.

Then the weight went on and it became less so. It nipped and pinched when one walked, which was how we ended up with the Njoy. But it would seem that there has been enough weight lost that it was no trouble to wear at all.

Except for the weight... oh man is that thing heavy.

And boy could it be felt when He kept driving over the speed bumps round the shopping centre

Bastard!

April fool

The day dawned clear and dull and overcast. It was threatening rain and all sorts of Easter goodness. Inside though, everything was rosier. Why you may be wondering was there all this happiness? Well He said he would take one to the Easter sales to embark on the great boot hunt. Now that people right there is twoo love. Any man who offers to take you shoe shopping at sale time is a keeper J

Actually one had managed to pick up a pair of sexy boots yesterday. They were just the perfect length so they hit above the calf but not just under the knee... boot selection is a fraught thing when you are under 5"4' (162.5). The world caters to the giraffes in our midst, but not those with less gifted genes. And it did spark an interesting debate as to what makes a sexy boot...

See for one small slave it was the finish which was a worn suede. They looked loved and beaten up, like they had sloshed through too many puddles and tottered along too many damp streets. He thought they looked sexy 'cos they are too high to run in K

Anyway off we scampered to look for something a little more polished and... conservative.  And more importantly, on sale 'cos there is no way one wanted to pay full price for something that may not fit come next year. We hit the jackpot in the first store.

He of course said good, pay the woman and let's get out of here

His response was met with laughter 'cos no woman likes to shop like that. Oh no, not when there are all the other shops to explore. After all, there might be something better... and if one doesn't look one will never know. You're starting to get glimmerings of why there are so many ex's aren't you J

It was that approach that led one to find a great sale on textured and coloured pantyhose...

And now that the legs have lost weight there is actually room in the boots for both one's legs and texture...

Now all we need is for this endless bloody summer to finish and make way for winter. 'Cos at this rate some of this new stuff won't be fitting at all L

So it was a happy woman and a mildly relieved man who set off on the path home...

He had visions of wild rampant sex...

The body had other plans...

See it had lain in wait to spring its little trick...

While making lunch one noticed that turning was a little dangerous and bending over produced rather disturbing effects. Thinking it was just hunger one ignored it and ate lunch. A miraculous recovery did not occur. In fact it got worse... to the point that one ended up in bed lying very still... 'cos the blood pressure had tanked to even lower than normal.

You know its bad when you get head spins rolling over in bed. And frankly lying still with your feet up drinking water is not conducive to wild rampant sex... whatever dancing visions some of you may be having...

So yeah... life. Sometimes it sucks!

But there are boots J