Katastrophe incarnate

Today has been gloomy and quiet but please don’t think I’m complaining. These sleepy sort of days aren’t as frequent as I’d like. 
  I’m not going to lie and claim I’m not a little sleepy still, a little worn down from the past few days. But I don’t feel weary, just perhaps a bit bored and still. I’ve stayed mostly in my room, a light robe rather than anything resembling an outfit today. I’ve had most of a pot of tea to myself, and spent most of the day curled up with my current book. 

    My partner has come in to cuddle next to me with his own book, and ended up napping with his head in my lap for a while.  Listening to the rain together, just relaxing, it’s been a decent break for both of us. I’m not the easiest to look after, and he’s hyper more often than not, the break has been welcomed. 

 Tomorrow more mischief will be on the agenda, but today is the down time we both needed. 

Well the dyeing took all evening yesterday. My hair was still damp when I went to bed last night and let’s be honest, tied up in a scarf to protect my face and ears. 
  “But Lady Kat” I can hear you all thinking, “what about your partner.” Would he not be concerned about looking like he’s been sacrificing smurfs after touching my hair? 
     My ever so faithful servant is sporting an even brighter shade of the same color himself. We both look like we’ve recently bathed in the blood of the Smurfs. 
      Once I took it out of the scarf this morning, with only a minimal tinge of blue beyond the boundary, it fell in the lovely waves I manage to achieve only every so often without quite a bit of work. I put up the new picture before I’d even done my makeup. 
   In a day or two, I’ll replace the picture with one done to my usual standards but I can’t deny how I enjoy the fresh color. Just a shade darker than I wanted it originally, but I can’t deny how much better it looks vibrant again. 

I changed my picture today as a farewell of sorts. My favorite red and black lace top that looks fantastic with jeans for a little internal confidence boost, as I go about this change. 
   My hair has been the same green since December of last year, it seems like a good time to change things up. 
  The bleaching is done, the roots are as blonde as my hair can get. Not my favorite look  favoring Betty over Marilyn usually.

It’ll dry soon enough, and I can move on to the next step in the process. 

So a fond farewell to the green for now! 

You’ll have to excuse the conversational style of today’s post, I’m in a chatty mood. I had such a lovely morning, including a lovely little accessory with 12 unique setting that made shopping and the long line at Starbucks bearable in the most delicious way. 

  I have to go and be a proper responsible adult this afternoon so taking a little pleasure where I can, who could blame me? 

Between the hair and piercing, it can take a bit of work to taken seriously in certain settings, it’s better than a decade ago, but still an effort. To that effect I’ll go in with my hair neat, makeup a little tame(for me let’s not go crazy) and in a dress that’s more Donna Reed than Morticia Addams. 
  I’m keeping my boots though, the extra height gives me confidence 

I woke up to a realization a couple weeks ago. Almost none of my clothes fit properly anymore. All my dresses, my tops, skirts, everything really hangs off my body. 
  I dug into my closet, to the very back and found a few older tops, from years ago. But this isn't exactly a negative. 
  I was on a birth control for nearly ten years. That’s almost 8 more than is recommended for that particular method. Which I was not informed of by my charming ex-doctor or their staff. 
   Instead I was subjected to a fun list of side effects including significant weight gain. I got off it last November and in less than a year I’ve lost half the weight. 
  I made no changes to diet, and only recently began a light exercise routine. The vindication of showing that to the doctors who spent years pushing calorie counting and apps like weight watchers and telling me to “eat healthier”.  

But back to my original problem. What’s a Lady to do with half a wardrobe? 
 Well, to start I’ll be altering what I can, I have a rather established style I am not inclined to change, so alterations are the way to go. For most of my dresses and skirts I can wear a corset over them to enforce a bit of shape with my outfit. 
   As for the tops that do fit? Well is there anything more comfortable than a pair of well worn jeans? Say the type my partner wears? It’s been a good 7 years since I was able to wear his clothes aside from hoodies. Imagine how happy I was to find his jeans so loose and comfy on me. 

  He won’t be getting these back any time soon. 

Lady isn’t exactly a meaningless title for me, it’s all down to how I was raised. But I suppose I’m getting a bit ahead. Let’s examine this a bit closer shall we? 

   I was raised to behave a certain way, and while I shed most of the ridiculous aspects, and I’d hope fight the problematic ones, certain remnants have stuck. From the time I could crawl a series of beloved female relatives have taught me to behave as a Lady should. How to speak, how to walk, how to present myself, and even how to defend myself and those needing my help. How to show myself to be worthy of respect and how to determine when others are worthy of the same. 

  Manners therefore are important to me. The energy I’m initially presented with determines exactly what I’m giving back. I can be playful and flirtatious, sweet and nurturing, gracious and kind. When presented with courtesy I can return it and ensure the other party knows they have my rapt attention. 

  But there is another side, as well. A side brought out by disrespect, by childish testing, and some mistaken belief I wouldn’t dare. I have the ability to turn off the kindness, to retract that gentility, and leave the offending party a gibbering mess, grasping the remains of their pitiful self as if I couldn’t return and begin the chaos anew. 

I of course don’t enjoy being the villainous lady anymore than I have to, but honestly. How far should I be pushed before reminding people the name isn’t accidental. I can be as cruel as I can be kind. What possesses some to test that is beyond me. 

What brought this on today, when I’ve had such a lovely few days? An utterly disgusting encounter with a foolish woman while doing my errands this morning. A woman I’ve never met before attempting to preach at me because I obviously need religious intervention in my life. A woman who chose to speak to me like a child, despite appearing to be very nearly my age. A woman who very well may be picking her jaw up from the pavement still once I informed her I’d sooner entrust my soul to Lucifer than have to see the likes of her in “paradise”. 

   What a way to ruin a perfectly lovely morning. 

Yesterday was fun. 

An understatement, of course, but suitable to lead into my thoughts. If one thought of it as a game, my darling partner achieved his victory twice yesterday. Hours of attention just to show me what I mean to him. Yes he achieved his goal, twice. 

Today finds me deliciously sore, a dozen or so little bites and bruises constant reminders of his attentions. His neck and shoulders sporting marks all their own, one at his clavicle nearly the shade of my favorite lipstick. 

I never expected to wake this morning to his hands reaching for me again, and yet I was tugged close. I was sure he’d be exhausted, and yet in the still sleepy haze of predawn I found his attention back on my body, on bringing me pleasures so gentle, so careful. 
Once he was absolutely sure I was sated, he rolled out of bed to make my coffee. Our usual routine. 
  I asked what he’d dreamed of, to be informed he hadn’t dreamed at all. He wanted to make sure I knew he’d never have his fill of me. 13 years together and his appetite still isn’t assuaged. 

Well it’s here, today is my birthday. 32 years on this Earth, and I have to say, so far it’s been a good one. 
I didn’t wake to dreadful news, or a UDP, or anyone making demands of my time. A rare thing for me. 
 I came awake slowly, gently pulled from dreams fueled by the activities alluded to in my last post. Having been together so long, he’s well aware of my moods, my needs, and when I may just need to tie him to the bed and have my wicked way with him.
      The carved posts of our bed lend themselves so well to this practice and it was well past the witching hour when I untied him last night. 
I woke to nimble hands and long fingers caressing my curves. Teasing me gently awake, soft touches to secret places, worshiping with more reverence than seen in any temple or church. 
  Is there any better way to wake? If so I don’t know it, and I’ll be dubious until proof is delivered, if it even exists. Following the first gentle round, he worked in earnest until I thought I’d never catch my breath. Every position I favor, every angle he’s learned over the past 13 years. Several hours focused entirely on my pleasure.

   Lazing in bed afterwards I asked what brought all that enthusiasm on. We had played a long time even for us the last night, usually he’d be sore today, favoring hot showers, sweet teas and maybe some gentle cuddles. 

“Birthday spankings didn’t seem appropriate, so I thought it’d be fun to try for birthday orgasms instead.” 

Happy Birthday to me indeed. 

I’ve been on this site for a couple months, thought of trying the blog thing a few times, but never felt like the right time. 
  Guess that’s changed a bit. I woke up today with a thought and I felt like sharing. Who knows when I’ll decide to share again, but here we are. 
  I’m mentally gearing up for my birthday tomorrow, complicated feelings abound. But I will get past that and come away another year older, hopefully a little wiser, and definitely a little calmer. My partner is doing his level best to keep my mind occupied that’s for sure. He can always tell when I need a distraction and this is no exception. 
  Obedience has its place in our dynamic of course, but a little defiance followed up with an appropriate consequence? Well life would be ever so dull without a taste of chaos here and there, wouldn’t it?