Fuck!

You know one really hates periods. Even fake ones. Why you may be wondering? Ahh well the body dumps fluids. Copious amounts of fluids. Fluids that preferably need a toilet. A thing one has to ask permission to use...

You can see where this is going can't you...

Please Master may one use...

There is always the thinking, the considering...

It makes one want rip off His face...

But that is probably the hormones talking...

Free...

Free at last one cried, escaping from the last of the bonds
Yeah well I ain't letting you go, so you may as well enjoy the illusion He shot back
Sighs He sucks the joy out of everything...

Setting the bar

Disc change please He said, from the comfort of the couch
Stopping what one was doing to scuttle over for the disc change... there might have been some pantomiming that was less than servile... and some dialogue along the lines of "scampering over to change the disc Master" in a tone that was also less than servile.
Good, was the reply from Him
Mutters don't think the sarcasm is translating
Oh I don't care about the sarcasm, so long as you are obeying
Yep that's what one figured... hence the scuttling

It's like magic

You put on one of these and things disappear...

Mostly your line of sight and your feet J

Losing your points

Clutching a bag of salmon rolls, cold sausages and cheese for snacks... think we might have failed gaming geek 101 there... we shot out the door to join our vanillas. For a change we were even on time... something we rarely achieve.

A fact that He swears only occurs when one is with him. That's an odd thing considering that one of us is usually ready in spite of His endeavours to slow one down, but one does digress...

We were almost at their turnoff when He turned around and said have you got the salami?

Um... no, it's in the fridge along with that smelly buffalo brie. We can turn around and get them. It's not like they expect us to be on time.

Why is it that you always forget my stuff He quizzed on the return trip home to pick them up

Well let's see... don't eat it, didn't think about it... oh yes, and it's poisonous to one's good self. For some reason processed meats, however tasty and that particular salami is divine, always seem to have poor results and frankly, that cheese smells bad.

He gave one that look...

And trying desperately to look suitably contrite one muttered bad, bad slave

Yes you are He said. Master's needs come first

Honestly it's not like He didn't eat the other stuff as well. It wasn't like one was trying to deliberately starve Him or anything...

If anything one was really protecting Him from overindulging...

Sighs there go the good slave points... again.

On a completely non BDSM note...

For a long time now one has suffered endured (insert descriptor of choice here... just make sure it has lots of drama and hand across the brow action) migraines. They started about the same time as the PCOS and seemed to get worse as the weight increased to the 65-75 kg range. As one hit about 80 kg they seemed to level off to only during the time of the fake period. And they were bad... three days worth and often cluster migraines to boot, with only one day in between.

With the advent of modern migraine medication the worst of it was contained, but you can only take so many pills and they were not enough to cover that many days. As a rule one learnt to pick a day or two to not be in horrendous pain and duke it out for the others. The only thing that seemed to alleviate some of the side effects was to bomb the body with a steady supply of carbohydrates, to keep the stomach and the blood supplies distracted with digestion.

As the weight has slowly gone back down the migraines worsened once more. It was sort of a trade off for gaining a smaller waist. The smaller it got, the more frequent the migraines became, however the cost benefits of increased health made it worth it. Now that the weight has stabilised the migraines have lessened in frequency to just that fake period one. It was still a corker though...

Made worse by the fact that the gluten intolerance meant that toast (the nose's preferred food choice) was off the menu.

Now having found a suitable bread its back on and a funny thing has happened. Without the usual supply of wheat based products going into the system darning the migraine, the migraines are nowhere near as bad as they were. In fact they are almost negligible... now bear in mind one's idea of negligible is somewhat different from others... to the point of hardly qualifying as a migraine. Well except for that whole pain and losing vision in one eye thing J

It has however, made one start to wonder if the severity of the migraines was exacerbated by the increased consumption of wheat. Perhaps the body has been gluten intolerant for a very long time and one simply hasn't noticed. Perhaps it hasn't been related to the cholesterol medication after all...

Meh perhaps if one hadn't gone on the cholesterol medication one would have never noticed and carried on having the headaches from hell...

Who knows; silver linings and all that... 

Rules to the game of no

He pounced...

And one small slave made a desperate break for the side of the bed, only to be thwarted by His superior reach. No, no, no!

Oh are we playing that game He enquired

No really is not a game

Well not if you aren't allowed to say the word He countered

Oh one says it all the time. There just isn't much in the way of expectation that it will be honoured. It's sort of like saying I'm going to win the lottery. No one actually expects or thinks that it's going to happen. It doesn't stop them from saying it though.

I see He said, pressing his advantage

Mutters He cheats you know...

Being inclusive?

Flicking onto a page from online catalogue marked Naughty Santa Costumes one does confess to having certain expectations...

A bit of a giggle being one of them to be honest... it's always interesting to see what people define as naughty.

Maybe the odd elves outfit... perhaps a reindeer. You know Christmas themed stuff. Admittedly most of it stuff one prays does not make it to our door.

Anyway you can imagine one's surprise drifting down the page to spy a pirate, then a bumble bee and rather peculiar furry leggings. OK we might have been heading towards that reindeer after all. But no, that was not the case. We ended up in the land of leopard lady and her assorted furry friends.

Now one does realise that we live in a country that is as hot as hell at Christmas and one is well known for being something of a Grinch, but damn it...

Those costumes have nothing to do with Christmas or Santa, let alone naughty.

Sighs that whole words mean whatever you want them to mean things has just increased in scope hasn't it L

Plans go...

The plan was come home, scamper round and He would get up a bit earlier to spend some time together. At the moment one is on a break from the weights so there is no gym in the evening. Mind you, if He keeps rewarding this tardy behaviour with sex one suspects it might be hard to go back. See the body is pretty indiscriminate, it doesn't care where the endorphins come from and let's be honest...  why would you want to go out when you can stay at home?

Already that two week break has extended to three due to the extra shifts this week. That of course brings us to where we are...

Tonight...

When work was extended for an extra hour and a half, bringing the total to a ten hour day plus the hour trip home.  

The return woke Him up of course and then he couldn't get back to sleep. So we curled up with each other instead... both slightly stupefied with fatigue... in between flitting around and making Him breakfast and lunch. It was all terribly domestic...

Which wasn't quite the plan...

At all...

Well not at this end at any rate.

Still it was lovely to see Him and now one can enjoy the guilt of not having done anything productive. Without those sex generated endorphins soothing everything into a state of we don't care, the body is making discrete enquiries as to when we are going back. Honestly the damn body is worse than having a mistress... or gods forbid another master J

Redefining responsible

Climbing into bed, He had long gone there, one slathered on a little foot cream before slipping between the sheets.

HIs eyes cranked open; are you OK He asked.

Fine my love, just coming to bed.

He started to roll over, his penis rising to the occasion. He leered up at one small slave. Wanna ride me to sleep?

Umm... no. See when He's like this he's not actually awake, just in that in between state. Now being woken up by Him having sex with you is one thing, having sex with you while He's actually asleep is just sort of... insulting.

I'm going to take that word away from you if you can't use it responsibly He said, as he drifted off.

Responsibly... that's another word that doesn't mean what He thinks it means isn't it? 

Misery loves company

This is a fucked up week with only one day off. So one did the mature, responsible thing and tried to do everything in one day...

And the plan was going well until lunch. That was when we ducked to our local Indian to find that they had gone from very good food to curry in a hurry. And found a way to make it cheaper...

So the rest of the day was spent on the couch swearing that no food without an ingredients list or clearly marked as gluten free would pass these lips ever again.

You know as a casual observation the body's response time is getting faster L

Mind you He's not looking too bright either...

What's that expression? A problem shared is a problem halved?

They were wrong on that one. It's more that you have two people on a lounge who are both miserable... only round here one of them is still hopping to it L

Sore loser

He sat there on the couch in that in between state of awake and about to fall off the perch. Having been up since the night before and with only a short nap in the late afternoon, it was hardly a surprise.

Are you going to sleep?

Yep, right after you ride me into a coma He replied

That's a bit presumptuous isn't it?

It a bit presumptuous that you think you have a choice He shot back

Yeah well frankly one's presumptions are preferable to yours.

Hmm... thinking about it, one can't help but feel that conversation was why one found oneself in a reverse cowgirl with both holes stuffed... in spite of the squeaks of protest. 

It is so not fair...

To send a message to your slave "suggesting" that she don the bunny costume tonight for a do over.

It smacks of taking a second bite of the cherry...

Mutters or a complete abuse of power

Happy anniversary or...

Life through the looking glass

The bus ride home was miserably slow and one deeply suspects they had put in extra red lights just for our trip. So stuck on it one's thoughts turned to other things. Our anniversary and the lack of a present.... mostly... seriously, furniture! We don't normally celebrate with gifts, but honestly after all these years each one is a blessing. Not such a blessing that you are getting the egg chair... sorry, just want to make that quite clear J

Anyway one thought it would be nice to do something...

So scampering home one tried on the very hot shoes that arrived in the post. Honestly a girl could get nose bleed in them... is that what it feels like to be nearly six feet tall? Oh the heady sensation as one looks down on everything. No wonder you act the king of the universe sometimes. Err... back to you...

Rushed dinner, made you lunch and hit the shower. And there one was luxuriating under hot water...

Having just shaved everything, still vacillating between the French maids costume and the bunny costume, though one was leaning towards the bunny costume. Leaning so far as to wonder which shoes would be easiest to do a bunny dip in when serving your breakfast. In fact one was even tossing up whether to go sleek stocking or fishnets...

... when you appeared through the mist and steam of the shower. You had got up early so we could spend some time together. This, for the record, is the greatest gift you can give...

But you spoilt the surprise.

Honestly you are like the cat, which always seems to know which part of the paper you are reading and sits right on that spot. It's like a sixth sense for being in just the right, or is that wrong, spot. You ruined the surprise...

So this way you get to read about it instead. Hope it makes you smile.

Happy anniversary my love...

And better luck next year J

Gratitude sex

It was a bad, bad night. It was one of those nights that was kicked off by waking up three times before He even got out the door. First it was the cat, who one might have forgotten to feed. Then it was Him looking for his belt and then just as one was dozing off again the realisation hit that one hadn't put salad in his lunch box. It was in the fridge crisping away. Not that He is that fond of salad, but the leafy greens do add bulk to a meal.

So out of bed one stumbled to assemble salad... with all the grace that a small dragon shrew can muster. Seriously wake a girl once shame on you, wake her more than that, hell will rain down. Of course after that much sleep interruptus the body decided that it was the pattern that we were going for and repeated it all night. By morning it was almost a relief to wake up for one last time. All of that bad night was followed by a very long day at work... strange how that seems to cap off everything.

 It was a relief to stumble home...

There one found that not only had He cooked the pork, but there was a note to say that he was getting up early so that one could go to bed. What was a small dragon shrew to do, but dine and make His lunch very quickly, hop in a shower and put on something short and slinky...

Not one of those damn costumes... a fact that He did note with a tinge of regret

And drag Him off to bed for a little guilt and shame sex... the best kind. Well other than make up sex... or so they say. Never having done it one can't say for sure.  

To be honest though it was more that here we were with an unexpected hour. It seemed a shame to waste it with sleep. Besides it's our anniversary tomorrow...

Which for the record is a crap anniversary... you get furniture for it. Nothing says we have been together too long like a nice piece of furniture. Though He probably would happily accept an original egg chair... who wouldn't? But honestly who thought furniture? They didn't even come up with a modern equivalency that was better. What the hell are you supposed to do, say here honey the new recliner I know you've been dying for? Ugghh!!!

Anal sex is way better... for the record J

The reward scheme down the hole

It seems that He has been busy... why does no good ever seem to come of that?

See one of the good excellent awesome and unexpected bonuses of losing the weight has been that none of those nasty, scratchy costumes He is so damn fond of fit. It has been halcyon days round here one has to say.

Those days ended today when one scampered home to find the bench neatly stacked with...

A nurse's costume... a costume that frankly one doubts will do anything good for His blood pressure

A replacement Alice costume... shudders quietly

And what looks like the cutest and this almost goes without saying... scratchiest maids costume ever. It even comes complete with a feather duster...

Sighs nothing good comes in threes does it L

We surrender

For two days straight we have been driven from our tiny domicile by the sounds of construction work. Yesterday it was the irregular pounding if bricks being demolished and being carted out and loaded into a trailer. Today it was the jackhammers being bought out. It seems the bricks were more solid than first thought. By some strange quirk of fate the internal cupboards, benches and BBQ of the outdoor entertainment area were better built than one of the boundary fences... you can tell where the previous owners priorities lay.

Anyway off we scampered driven by noise, dust and an overwhelming desire to be anywhere but home. As a result our only achievement for the day, other than some sex before crashing, was Him acquiring another pair of Converse for his captured breeding programme... which leaves one small slave with a dilemma.

How do you tell the boss person that they need to stop bringing home shoes?

There is no room at the inn or the shoe cupboard...

Well none that won't be at the cost of displacement of one's own shoes...

Mutters this could get ugly 

Today we became those people...

The one's you find wandering around organic wholefoods stores. You know the ones; the people who pay $10 for four crackers that have fewer ingredients than normal. Not that we actually did pay that price. Honestly one doesn't miss crackers that much L

The whole thing started innocently enough. We were looking for a loaf of gluten free bread make by a certain company. Most of them taste so bad that when you find one that is edible untoasted you stick with it. We used to get it from the markets, but the woman there is so unreliable... one of those people who won't take names 'cos she will remember... and never does.

So we went to the first local store to place a regular order and while there managed to acquire some glorious dried figs, the kind with the sugar crystallised on the outside of them. He snatched the bag out of one's hand and ate the last one... the bastard! There was also a small block of white chocolate for Him and some liquorice tea for one small slave. The blood pressure is so damn low at the moment that one needs all the help one can get... besides, love liquorice tea J

Then we moved further afield to the next one who actually had a loaf of the bread in question and while there some fresh peanut butter also found its way in the bag. And that's how it begins people...

An innocent beginning...

That ends up with normal people crossing over to the expensive side...

And one of them falling into a carb coma after scarfing down two bacon butties, made on that bread and slathered in mayonnaise, for dinner.

Sobs this is what that gluten sensitivity has reduced us to... an evening of folding laundry alone!

Does practice make perfect

Thinking about ancilla_ksst's comment yesterday it got one to wondering if there is something to the idea that the possibility of forever is predicated on the believing our own experiences. She believes in forever because that is what she has witnessed. He believes in forever because his family don't do divorces... well apart from his sister, but her bad taste in men is almost the stuff of legends.

Whispers honestly the more time one spends with His family the more one suspects that he isn't related to her at all.

Generally though, the women in His family come out of the womb singing stand by your man. That's not to say they aren't feisty and woe betide the fool that thinks they are otherwise, but divorce is not usually an option. And His grandmother had just cause. His grandfather was such a keen angler that the man had to move his family to a larger town with a bigger pond.

He used to say forever in the beginning of our relationship and one used to say forever is a very long time. Frankly given one's track record as a serial leaver the expectations weren't high. In fact the very idea used to make one hyperventilate just thinking about it. The trick one discovered was not to think about it, but just accept it the way He did.

That's not to say one always found it easy. It goes against everything a person like oneself believes in. But then one came from a family where the men disappeared... often overnight. And when they did get back together it was to conduct particularly bloody divorces. They were the sorts of divorces that dragged the children through the courts, along with any other dirty laundry that could be unearthed. 

Being a planner there was always a contingency plan, a backup plan, a quick escape route and/ or a safety net. It was how one always did relationships... one eye on the door and the other on the suitcase.  At the first sign of trouble that relationship would be burned and one would be off into the wild blue yonder and the next relationship. Yet here we are all these years later and He is still the love of one's life. 

These days He says forever and one breathes quite normally. Well the heart does a little lurch, but it's not the panicked kind. In fact it's kind of affirming. 
Besides, the suitcase seems to be missing J

Times change

There was a time when two people got married and made a commitment 'til death us do part. They were considered committed to an idea, honourable and ready to be married. It didn't mean they were actually ready for the reality of it all and gods know there were some who should never have been encouraged to walk down the aisle together. And yes some did have affairs and children with other people and all the messy stuff that humans do.

Yet nevertheless there they were, married to each other for better or worse. There was a belief that forever meant if not just that then there was going to be a stab in that direction... together. There were even a few who were happy and learnt to muddle through it together. Like so many things practice makes perfect.

Now in a BDSM relationship when people talk about forever, no leaving, feet first baby they are called delusional, dangerous and worse, threatened with the eternal conversation about limb chopping kittehs... or is that masters? After a while that conversation becomes this slightly psychedelic swirl of blood and screams with this maniacal cackle in the background... or was that a Pink Floyd number? But one does digress... as usual.

The thing is as a passing observation one has to wonder...

Isn't it a strange thing that the people who believe in forever are usually in long term relationships, while those who call them delusional usually aren't? 

The games people play

Lying on the bed with arms pinned above the head, one thought it was a good moment to point out that lying there was not consent.

You can say no He replied, as his other hand roamed around poking and prodding. I'm happy to play that game.

No is not a game!

It could be, was His response.

Sighs sometime He doesn't take one seriously at all L

Here endith the sniffing

The day started with a windows update. For those of you who have it you know what that means, getting up and finding that nothing responds quite the way it used to. So two restarts later the mouse was finally acknowledged... sighs see living proof that you don't have to actually provide a service that works first time to become a global giant :(

All of this fun conspired to jam up against the need to go for a run before work... yes that was the other issue that capped off the morning... work. Need one really say more?

By the time one got home it was a pleasure to do something soothing like make Him lunch. So there one was busily filling his lunch box with a freshly roasted pork sandwich, buffalo cheese and sundried tomato tartlets, smoked salmon rolls and a small salad when He emerged early to turn back on the spotlight.

You know as an aside growing up one's favourite cartoon character was always Pepe Le Pew. It was all that persistence in the face of misunderstanding. Persistence that we now recognise and label as stalker behaviour and sexual harassment... sometimes time is not the great healer that people claim. To be honest He rather reminds one of Pepe...

And to be honest, stuck at the kitchen bench with hands covered in food as one was, while He proceeded to press up against one small slave and grope naked body parts, one rather looked like poor Penelope from that cartoon. In fact one suspects that the expression on the face was exactly like hers...

Resistance is futile. 

Micro breaks

Today was one of those days where noting really eventful happens. He was...distracted and busy in his own head which means one isn't the focus of all his attention. In the beginning of our relationship when this used to happen it was like someone had turned off the searchlight. These days one takes it for what it is... not exactly a holiday, but a moment of relaxation. It's sort of like when you take a minute to sniff a flower in someone else's garden. It is a passing, momentary thing, but no less fragrant for it.

So if you will excuse one small slave...

Flowers need to be sniffed J

Advice column

What's the one bit of advice you would give to someone contemplating becoming a slave?

At the time we were curled up in bed contemplating sex... sex that though enjoyable would probably hurt one of us. He asks the weirdest things at the oddest times...

Don't do it, was the unhesitating reply.

Really?

Yeah, really! Seriously if you are of sound mind enough to be contemplating it, then you sure as hell are not ready to actually do it. Only the slightly unhinged would seriously contemplate this as a way of life.

He was quiet for a moment... a rare turn of events might one add. Seriously, that would be your advice?

Yeah. Probably closely followed by run, while you still can.

His eyebrow rose to epic heights in questioning disbelief forcing one to add...

Look say you've managed to get someone who wants to do this. Generally speaking you have two types of people who enter into this. Those that have a very clear idea of what they want and they don't want their potential partner reading someone else's shit... except in the broadest sense... and getting stupid ideas they are going to have to undo. They want that clean receptive slate because it's less work.

The second type is like us who drifted into this after a lot of getting to know each other. You had ideas, one small slave had ideas and we messed around until we found what worked for us. There was a lot of trial and error. What there wasn't was a lot of complete strangers telling you what to do or giving advice...

Look we work because difficult though one is... that was more of a working premise than an admission of guilt... as a person one is remarkably unattached to those things people hold dear like names, personal identity, style. All those nebulous things that we call a sense of self which often cause the biggest stumbling blocks in one of these relationships.

Most people go into relationship thinking I am not going to change... it's probably the biggest cause of divorce thinking about it. We've been sold on this idea of a soul mate that will get us and love us just the way we are. Personally one goes into a relationship thinking what will make this work? Adaption is always the answer. As a person one has adapted to your needs.

Take the wardrobe for example. There isn't a thing in there that hasn't on some level been dictated by you. Even when we go out shopping if the hand lights on something and your lip curls that item is dropped immediately. We do that repeatedly until one can predict your taste... well at least where one's own wardrobe is concerned... within certain parameters. That makes you happy therefore one small slave is happy.

You have done this in all areas of the relationship consciously and unconsciously. You have overwritten one's tastes and desires to the point that one is hazy about where you stop and one begins. After nearly 17 years it is a reflex and one that isn't questioned at all. It simply is.

See that's what they do. They overwrite your very essence, your sense of self, your style, even your soul if you believe in such a thing. Why on earth would you advise someone to do that? Who would want that on their conscience?

So if you are reading this and contemplating embarking in a BDSM relationship...

Run. Run now! As fast as you can...

There, a clean conscience J

Sloth and torture

We spent the day in idle pursuits. A little sun followed by lunch and a cider, threats against one's personage that were bordering on cruel and inhumane given the temperature... which was way too hot for comfort... inside and out. Oh and the purchasing of a new bikini. Sighs and while that door was cranked open all sorts of bad things stepped over the threshold.

In this case it was the Wicked Weasel. For those of you unfamiliar with the iconic Australian brand they specialise in the microkini. That is to say scraps of fabric that do not really cover anything and then are often comprised of lace or sheer fabric. They are the truly pointless bikini. In fact they are the Clayton's of bikinis... the bikini you are wearing when you aren't wearing one.

The worst thing is that by His logic as one is trying to get sun on a greater surface area then they are ideal is hard to argue with...

Actually arguing with Him is generally pointless.

In fact He thinks it will be fun to go to Byron Bay for the day to actually visit the shop and try some on...

Oh yaaay! 

Medically mandated

Included in this post is some very rare pictures of one small slave doing a death defying act... and for a change it's not being a smart arse. What you are looking at is the first pictures of rotisserie slave... in that blasted bikini no less. Oddly enough it is not as one joked to preserve the eyesight of others from being blinded by all the whitenss, but on doctor's orders 'cos life conspires to make Him happy...

See when one scampered off to get checked out for coeliac disease...

Results that were inconclusive, ironically due to eliminating the cause of great pain and suffering from the diet in the form of gluten. It seems that without a steady supply of inflammation going in the system, the blood tests can't tell if you are or aren't. Apparently all that they can do to tell for sure is a bowel biopsy; a simple day procedure. To be honest at the mention of sharp pointed objects being aimed at oneself the need for conclusive results disappeared. In fact it was enough to make a deal with the doctor... one will live happily with an inconclusive result and just stay the hell away from things that cause gastric distress. She laughed... mutters doctors are natural sadists whatever the oaths may profess.

... they also checked all the vitamin levels in the body. Vitamin D came back in the red. Actually it was flat lined.

Yes in yet another ironic turn of events, like so many others who live in a land of endless sunshine, it seems one is Vit. D deficient. It's the new epidemic in this country. For years our government has been preaching slip, slop, slap and for a change the citizens have actually listened. No more are babies popped out into the sunshine...

Now here is an interesting bit of trivial for those that love such things....

Vitamin D is the only vitamin not found in mother's milk. They think it is because we as a hairless mammal evolved to synthesise our own Vit.D. All other mammals and birds ingest it from their fur and feathers when they groom themselves.  For this reason there is a school of thought that says we were not meant to ingest Vit. D...

In fact one whit has suggested that we would have just as much joy licking the family pet. This does, He quipped, give a new meaning to those people who love their dogs a bit too much. Sighs see what one lives with??

...but do what we were designed to do... bask in the suns radiance.

So here one is...

Basking...

In the suns radiance...

And His approval

Oh and taking Vit. D supplements too 'cos hedging bets is always a smart thing to do J

Trust in a BDSM relationship

Tottering off to work with a migraine one expected the worst. What happened was that it was so dead, Monday is a public holiday here you see, that the boss happily released one early. So sitting at the bus stop one sent Him a message to let him know one was on the way home. He replied... rather a strange thing given the hour... and offered to pick one up.

The light was so damn bright that, even knowing that there would be a price to pay for this largess, one took up His offer. After a quick shower one presented to bed for payment...

Lying there afterwards, one of us with a tender arse, one asked if that was payment in full.

Well for this trip yes was His response.

That is a very specific answer.

Well you have a very large debt, He replied. Years worth in fact. I didn't want you reneging on the rest of it.

See people...

That is the much vaunted trust you read about in action. You may note that it is very different from the flowery stuff you read about on the net. In fact it is as far from the romantic notion of trusting them to do the right thing as you can get. But, it is clear and concise communication...

Sighs you know romance is dead around here... along with loopholes L

Quote of the week

"In cyberspace no one can hear you scream"

Well that explains a few things...

Recycling

Some shirts arrived (finally... we think they were swimming part of the way) in the mail for Him.

This print one is particularly nice. You know, one added conversationally while fingering the fabric, these are a really good quality cotton. When you are finished with them they could be used for quilting. The print in particular would make a lovely quilt.

He glared over the bench; it's polite to at least let me wear them before planning it.

Oh you know... planner by nature... long term planner...

Mutters mind you given that He has shirts from his teens it could be a while before one gets the shirt...

Though accidents do happen...

J

Out of your hands

For a while now the hairdresser has been experimenting with new colours on the hair. Having moved she now has different products from when she had her own salon, so she likes to try things out. Subsequently the hair has been much lighter for a while now. Something that every single person has liked, commented on and suggested one might consider keeping.

The trouble is of course that He prefers it darker and so does the hairdresser. They collude you know... length, colour etc has been worked out by them over the years. She knows what He likes... something he can grab a handful of... and she works within those parameters. Sighs between those two one doesn't stand a chance.

So when the manager at work commented that she hoped one was keeping the colour, it seemed an opportune time to let her down gently and point out that her hopes would come to naught. But it's your hair she said sounding slightly bewildered. No, not really. It might be one one's head, but that is the extent of the ownership.

She stood there blinking for a second before saying you know, you are the last person I would have thought would be dictated to like that. Smiling one asked do you want to tell Him? After standing there for a minute she turned around and said well it is only hair.

See others can see that He is unreasonable J

Wardrobe essentials

You know one said conversationally, while peering at a very unappealing e-catalogue from a well known clothing store...

A company which has produced scary items for summer including a "lux leather visor"... OMG the 80's live... again. Only this time they have blended it with a BDSM tennis vision.

... A girl is going to need some shorts for summer. If we go for a walk, which we often do in summer evenings, it's going to be in jeans at this stage.

You can have some shorts He said

There was something in His tone that made the slave senses tingle. Um....  by shorts one means something that will cover a body

That's fine was the smooth reply

Um... cover more than the shorts that you bought for one last summer. Those don't actually cover the cheeks of the arse. We are talking here about shorts that come closer to the knee than the navel. For that matter one is going to need some new sports gear as well.

Sighs sweat and continual washing does kill sports gear... and much of it is getting too large to be honest.

His spark of interest died. You could just do what every other woman around here does He said in a resigned tone. Combine the two.

There will be no mumble pants worn here.

Are you sure He asked, sounding slightly disappointed

Positive!

See round here, so close to the beach, cafes and gyms and with walkways connecting it all, women tend to wear cropped exercise pants. All that Lycra in a land already filled with MAMILs. Of course they aren't on bikes and they aren't worn with long tops or any other form of coverage so you can see how they got to known in certain quarters as mumble pants...

You can see the lips move, but you can't hear what the silly cunt is saying J