Random Thoughts and Writings

When did BBW become a bad word and strike fear in the hearts of the huddled masses?

I know it is my choice to write in my profiles that I am a BBW, but why do I feel that it is an obligation to do so. Nothing like setting myself up for a fall. I have done a great deal of work on myself and my self-esteem in the last couple of years and I am finally becoming the true me. 

Are there people out there that can truly see beneath the surface and recognize a person for who they really are? Or am I just treading water until I sail over the edge of the falls.

I shake my head many a day just wondering WHY???

Why does size matter? Hell in the same breath why does race, religion, height, eye colour matter?? Who is it that wrote the rule book on what normal is... i'd really like to have a few minutes of their time in a dark back alley.

I lived the first 33 years of my life trying to hide myself, being non-descript and just trying to blend into the background. God forbid someone notice me because that means I could be seen, my wall of invisibility had crumbled and I was vulnerable to the taunts and torment. I had convinced myself that those people were right, I was a waste of skin, and it was all my fault that I was the way I was. There were many times when I felt like my name had changed from Dee to Orca, cow, whale or wide load. Those were the names that I heard constantly and I believed them.

I never thought I would be grateful to hear that I had a medical problem. After 17 years of downward spiralling self destruction I found someone that believed I was more than just an overweight shell of a person. I had an eating disorder.

Those were the hardest words to hear but in the same breath they were the best words to hear. There was something wrong and there were people out there to help me. I wasn't alone!!

My eating disorder had many stages over its destructive lifespan. Being a closet eater, to being a binge eater and then finally blossoming into bulimia. With each progressive stage I grew weaker mentally and physically. "ED" as I affectionately call my eating disorder had me so wrapped around his little finger. Had me convinced that I was worthless and that he would take care of me... drag me into his dark world and wallow in self-loathing. It was comfortable, safe and He made me feel I was in control. He was sadly mistaken...

It has been 20 years since the beginning of the end of my relationship with ED. I broke free from ED long enough to let the words "You are ok and need help" seep into my mind. I relinquished His control and left Him on the doorstep as I walked into my treatment program.

Throughout my 2 month program I would often peek out the window to see if He was still on the doorstep... and low and behold he was, always lurking. And yes there were times I opened the door a crack to visit him but came to my senses and slammed it shut before he could get his foot in there. After my time in treatment was over I was able to walk out that door and sidestep ED as I passed Him on the doorstep.

I will never deny the fact that ED will be a part of my life forever and there are many many times in the past 20 years where I have let Him in for a visit. But He is no longer my friend or confidant. I do look over my shoulder from time to time to see how far away He is... but i have an incredible support circle of family and friends who are there to redirect my view to the future and not the past. I am human and I am not immune to the occasional stumble, those little setbacks are what keep me on the right track to living me life without ED

I love when life throws me random a-ha moments. This last one blindsided me in a much needed way.

A little back story. I have a fear of canes due to a previous bad experience. Sir is well aware of this fear/boundry. He knows i want this boundary pushed so he incorporates it in play in small but meaningful doses. I can say with all honesty now, that the distinct swish a cane makes as it cuts the air, now causes me to shiver in fear and delight. My breath catches in my throat as i try to stifle a moan. I can hear the grin on his face.

But i digress. This particular play day was different. First of all the energy as i entered the room was different, not in a bad way just felt heavy with intent. I proceed to climb onto the bed and lay prone face down as instructed. Arms stretched in front of me, i jump slightly as Sir begins caressing my shoulders, his hands traveling down my slowly relaxing form. A soft almost silent moan escapes me as his hands slide over my ample backside.

Lost in that moment i am snapped back to reality with a firm and delightfuly audible slap on my ass. The moan turns to a giggling yelp. The fun has begun.

Sir proceeds to work on his blank canvas with his artistic flair. The strokes of his paddle leaving glowing impressions. The sound and sting of the flogger....i swear i can hear him grinning.

The barrage continues as said canvas comes alive with colour. I am lost in my head just processing each stroke when suddenly there is a silence. My mind now residing in the moment. After a few moments of lucidity i hear it... that fucking swish. My entire body tenses up and an involuntary sob escapes me. SWISH!!! I grab handfuls of the sheet and bury my face tears welling up and my breath ragged. Fuck he hasn't even touched me yet. The gentle taps on my reddened cheeks feel like electricity as my back arches instinctively, providing you with further access as my ass is in the air now.

My sobbing muffled in the sheets as i feel the jarring sting of that first full cane stroke. Impulsively i raise myself up onto my hands head back as the tears begin to stream silently down my face, my body trembling. My head is spinning as Sir's stern voice instructs me lie back down. My body wracked with silent sobs i lay there trembling as Sir runs his rough hand over the freshly formed welt. The reprieve is brief as Sir begins his cadence of cane strokes. Each one eliciting further sobs and tears.

These tears are different though, they are filled with anger, fear, pain, frustration and relief. Seeing this Sir checks in and asks if i am ok and if i wish to continue. Without hesitation i nod and say yes please. WTF did i just say? I never thought i would be asking for more of the cane. But no sooner than i say yes...through the gut wrenching sobs i beg Sir to please help me let go and finally feel something. I lower myself back down my face buried in the tear stained sheets as Sir puts the final strokes of colour on his canvas.

I lay there convulsing with sobs of release and relief. I feel myself letting go, letting the tears cleanse me of my emotional burdens. Sir comes and stands infront of me his presence further calming me down. He wipes a tear and hands me the box of tissue. Through the fading sobs i look up at him and thank him over and over. My mind and shoulders feeling like the world has been lifted from them. It is then i see that sparkle in your eye that makes me fall in love with you all over again. I am where i belong, safe with you. Sir then proceeds to wrap me up in my fuzzy blanket and tucks my teddy bear in with me. I float off as i process what just happened.