Yesterday I got to see my Daddy and it was amazing as always. I was DEFINITELY in trouble and definitely got what Daddy had spared me a few days ago, but I also learned a lot as I do every time I am with Daddy. Currently (and I hope Daddy doesn’t read this) I hate my body. Everything about it. I literally don’t look in mirrors, don’t take pictures, and before Daddy didn’t let anyone touch me.
In the past year I have beaten thyroid cancer but I also lost my thyroid and with it my fitness, my body, my health. I am back on the road to healing, but it doesn’t mean my body has healed at all. I have gained a ton of weight and cry when I look at myself.
Daddy’s first rule for me was that I had to tell him I was beautiful at 10 AM every day and he doesn’t let me speak bad about my…well his…body. I think I have obeyed that rule like once. But yesterday, strapped down and stripped….I wasn’t scared about my body. Not during our play…after the thoughts came, but during…I have never once felt less than with Daddy.
He reminds me every day how beautiful I am and it honestly makes me cry. Because I just don’t see it. I don’t see how anyone can look at me and think anything is beautiful. But Daddy does and I have to trust he isn’t lying. But still I cannot accept my body. I just can’t. Not like it is.
Now Daddy tells me he likes my body as it is, but he knows I want to change it for me. For my sanity. My joy. But I just don’t know how in the process to look at what he says in beautiful and not want to tear it apart. As my last poem said, I used to cut myself, beat myself, burn myself because of how disgusting I think I am. But Daddy says I am beautiful.
That is one thing I wish people knew about BDSM, the growth it brings. My Daddy never disciplines me out of anger. Never oversteps his boundaries. Never truly, in the mean angry sense of the word, hurts me. He does everything to make me better. Even yesterday, taking my punishment, I wanted to call yellow because it did hurt, but I didn’t because I knew that was me trying to get out of punishment. I knew if I called it Daddy would stop and I also knew that I needed to be corrected because my brattiness had gone a bunch of steps too far. And it was then I also realized how much BDSM is helping me to learn about myself, my strength, and ways I need to change.
Still though….this brat isn’t going anywhere. She is still here, messing up, fessing up, and taking her punishment from the best Daddy in the world. I just hope one day she can also learn to look at herself and call herself beautiful
