Chasing Me Chasing You

An uncollared submissive struggling through depression, motherhood, and the constant craving of her next orgasm.

The Largest

I really don’t want to admit this to myself. So I’m going to write it here so I can’t escape this truth. I currently weigh the most I have ever weighed. At this moment I weigh in at 207lbs/93.89kg. That’s more than when I was pregnant with either of my kids. Which sounds bad, I know, but I was sick for most of both pregnancies, so they don’t really count. I actually lost weight with my second one. And I was back to my pre-baby weight before I even left the hospital either time. It sounds nice, but it was actually horrible.

Anyway, the concern is that I’m overweight now.

A lot of it is residual stress. The old job got me about twenty of these pounds in the last year. Then lack of good sleep, stress with money, and lack of sex aren’t helping either. But more than that, I’m just not taking good care of myself. I’m not eating well. And my exercise regimes have disappeared. My flexibility and endurance have worsened as well. I’m just turning into a blob.

And that’s just not good enough.

I mean, how can I really enjoy sex if I’m only focusing on how unhappy my body makes me? And, in a much less selfish way, I have two kids to watch grow up. I have to get back into shape and start making better food choices. I bought my wonder woman water bottle and have been trying to drink more water to stay hydrated (ignore the fact that I left it at home yesterday). But, obviously water isn’t enough on it’s own.

Fern (@Ferns_) is doing an #fwocrew workout tracking week this week. My goal is three. And I’ve only got until Sunday to fit them in. It sounds easy, and it probably should be, but I have a feeling it’s going to be tough to set aside the time. Usually I have some time in the mornings. The boys are often up though, and constantly in need of something (milk, apple, cartoons). It’s difficult to get into a good rhythm when you are constantly being interrupted.

So I have a lot of mini-goals as I try to tackle this weight. But until I can get the water and exercise into a more consistent pattern I don’t want to add too much more. Eventually I want to get back to calorie counting and maybe look at a step counter. Since my last one broke a replacement hasn’t been in the cards. That may end up on the Christmas list.

I just can’t keep this slow creep upwards in weight. My clothes are getting a bit too tight for comfort and my lack of energy is really getting to me. And, as much as I would love to blame my husband’s low sex drive solely on him; it’s not like I’ve been making a good effort either. I don’t expect that losing twenty pounds will suddenly make him want to sleep with me again. But taking care of myself is my best shot to stay in a good place for him.

The next few months will be a bit rough. But I need to do this for me as much as for my family, Dom, lover, and all those who care about me. I deserve to be healthy; even if I have to be my own worst enemy to do it.*

*There is nothing wrong with being healthy. I don’t mean to make it sound like it’s some great hardship. I just have an unnatural love of mayonnaise, ranch dressing, and fried foods. It’s more learning how to deny myself, which, as a self-spoiled little, it no easy task.

Spoil Me Thin

Okay, that title is crap. Well, I think it’s crap. I’ve never really been spoiled too much before. But I’m pretty sure I cannot blame that on me being overweight. If I can, please let me know immediately.

As my twitter boyfriend and I near the holidays we are trying to push our weight-loss into overdrive. We have issued a challenge to one another. The goal is to lose at least 8 lbs. by Christmas (1 lb. per week). We are going to try and support one another to exercise more and stay on top of our diets. Between vacations, emotionally tense situations, and life in general, we have both let things slide. Me much more than him, if I’m honest.

So after a week of logging food (again), and even attempting to exercise, I have gained a pound. Yeah, because my body can’t say ‘fuck you’ enough. I didn’t even eat that much candy this weekend. Though after I stepped off the scale I certainly wanted to. Instead I went outside and raked leaves for a little over an hour. Feeling good about myself I then ruined all my hard work by having Taco Bell for lunch. Yes, I know, I’m a glutton for punishment.

I’m just so up and down mood-wise lately. And it honestly surprises me how much that will mess with my sleep and weight patterns. And stress is going to be around for awhile, so if I’m going to meet this challenge I will have to find a way to push through. The twitter boyfriend has made the offer quite nice.

We talked about gifts and different things to reward ourselves with if we make it. We decided that in order to get the rewards, we both have to meet the goal. This way it’s about supporting each other, rather than it becoming a competition. He has talked about giving me a spa day. I have always wanted a full wax, so it certainly sounds like good motivation. Buying for him is more difficult though. He doesn’t like the idea of me spending money on him, and we aren’t sure how his wife will feel about it. As neither of us want to mess with their current progress, we are still working out his reward.

I’m hopeful though that this will restart my weight loss. I went down twenty pounds over the summer and then completely stalled out at the end of August. I haven’t put a lot back on (except for that fucking one pound!). However, I’m still shy of my goal weight by quite a lot and I’m worried that this plateau may be permanent.

While I thought that more sex may help, it has not had the desired affect. That or I just haven’t hit the threshold for sex to be considered a workout. I was planning on participating in All Anal November this year, so it’s possible that Sir and I can make it work. Not that I intend to make this some sort of diet or weight loss blog, but I will keep you posted. A wax is on the line, and being the exhibitionist that I am I need to win it so I can post pictures. It will be a happy holiday for everyone.

Weight Loss is Expensive

I have taken to eating a granola bar for lunch. It does an okay job filling me up and keeps my calorie count low. But, don’t mistake me, the word satisfying cannot be applied here.

When I was in my twenties (I write that like it was eons rather than a little over a year ago) I lived by a motto. ‘Life is too short to not eat mayonnaise’. This applied to so many cream based sauces and condiments. Hollandaise, ranch dressing, alfredo sauce, salad cream. All beautiful with the right entree or snack.

The only problem with this motto, however, is of course, I got fat. And, now that my life goals involve lots of sex and nude photos of myself on the internet, I’ve been forced to reevaluate my position.

But at what cost?

So I told Sir to appreciate all this weight I’m losing. I’ve given up so much.

*slow tear shot of a dad driving away at the end of the movie where you know he’s not coming back from the vet with the golden retriever.*


Coming Down

I have been in a shitty mood lately. Not really sure why.

I think I have been riding the high of getting this job so fast and finally feeling good about my career. Now that I’ve been going for a week and half, it’s just my job. I’m still very new to everything and schedules are still being sorted, but the high is gone. Now I come home to a million things to do and have less time with the kids and Sir. Dinners have been quite haphazard and not the healthiest. It’s just part of the overall transition and I’m not handling it the best. Are you really surprised?

At least the mood isn’t because of the diet. I am trying to work out how to spread my calories across the day so that I have energy in the evening. I feel bad crawling into bed when I lay the 4yo down. Sir and I are going to forget what each other’s genitalia look like soon. Well, he’s not, because he can just look at my cunt on the blog, but I’m getting fuzzy. In reality the diet is going well. The pounds aren’t falling off as fast as I’d like, but I’m not really known for patience. My push-ups and sit-ups have made my arms and abs very sore though. Sir is jealous. The other night in bed he kept having me roll over as he knew it hurt and wanted me to continue to hiss in pain. Sadists *slowing shakes head*.

Even with all this schedule madness, we are hoping for some good scene time this weekend. Maybe some fun toys, and some lovely hitty things. Rope and pain in the basement sounds like a great way to spend a Saturday. After my workout and mowing the lawn, of course. And the meal planning for dinners next week and the subsequent grocery run. And changing the sheets and the general weekly clean. On second thought, maybe Sir can just squeeze my nipples first thing in the morning before the boys start yelling for cartoons and fruit loops. There might be enough time for that.

New Rules

So the twitter boyfriend and have finally come up with some rules/definitions for what we’re doing. He doesn’t really feel comfortable with me calling him Sir, as he doesn’t consider himself a dominant. But a mentor/coach also seemed off as we want to leave this open to possibly become more in the future. So when he chooses a name I’ll be sure to let you know. For now, twitter boyfriend will have to do.

My last post regarding my new ‘pet’ status seemed to confuse and worry some people. The last thing I want is to be seen as trying to break up a marriage or encouraging a good friend to keep something from his wife. So let me be clear; both spouses know what is going on and are supportive. This is, as you will see below, because largely our relationship isn’t control. It’s help with a diet and workout routine. No perimeters for reward or punishment exist. And both of us have an out if things ever start to put stress on our primary relationship. Like I said last time, we are just taking everything slow.

So this is what we’ve got so far.

Twitter Boyfriend’s Rules for his pet

Rule 1

Cardinal rule – respective spouses take precedent in all matters including ending this arrangement

Rule 2

A food diary will be maintained detailing all foods consumed as accurately as possible on a daily basis

Rule 3

A calorie intake target will be agreed based on weight loss goals. This will be reviewed from time to time. It is used as a guide only at this point in time and not a ‘no more’ than amount

Rule 4

On up to two occasions within a calendar month, one meal in any given day can be substituted with a notional calorie amount regardless of the food and drinks consumed during that meal

Rule 5

The food diary will be reviewed and advice given on possible food options to provide better nutrition or weight loss outcomes

Rule 6

Body weight will be measured each Sunday at as close to the same time each week, recorded and shared

Rule 7

Every four weeks body measurements are to be taken, recorded and shared. Body shape tracking photographs are to be taken and shared at the same time as the body measurements

Rule 8

An agreed workout schedule will be developed. The schedule will include a minimum of 3 planned activities of between 30 – 45 minutes duration each week. The workout will be logged and the completion tweeted using the #FWOcrew tag.

Rule 9

The preparation of one meal a week will be set as a challenge to expand healthy eating options and to try cooking different foods. The recipe will be selected and agreed in advance. You can choose when to prepare it within the week (Sunday – Saturday). A photo of the result is to be tweeted using the #foodporn.

Adjustment to rules are by negotiation. Additional rules maybe added from time to time.

Please remember that we are working towards a lifestyle change that is sustainable for the rest of your life. Food is not the enemy and should be enjoyed.

*                                  *                                  *                                     *

 This is just a start and what we’ve agreed to. I’m sure there will be changes and possibly additions to what we have listed. I think that both of us would like more, but we are committed to respecting Rule 1, so that may not happen.

And as a test Sir and I and the kids are going out for breakfast this morning for Father’s day. We’ll see how I do with the healthy options when strawberry covered pancakes are staring me in the face. Wish me luck!

Comfort vs. Sexy

I am currently working on getting healthy. Changing my diet and trying to exercise more to lose weight and feel sexier. Ever since starting this blog I have constantly struggled with posting photos of myself on here when all I look at are the rolls and stretch marks. It’s just hard to feel sexy when you pick apart each photo even as you publish them. So clothes where I look sexy help me feel that way too. And I obviously want Sir to enjoy the way I look as well as that leads to lovely groping and spanking throughout the day.

But also, I’m a mom. I work from home and have an endless list of chores and errands to run. As much as I want to look amazing for him when he gets home, I have things to do. I try to look put together. I know that there is a lot of judgement as I drop the kids off at school from other parents. When I lose some more weight I’ll try the sexy dress drop off. Maybe I’ll have Sir come with me to get pictures.

So yesterday when I did my weight-in and I had lost another six pounds Sir and I decided I could have a few dresses. I kept aiming for something sexy, but practical won out. I did end up buying some new thongs to wear for him though. From my knees down I feel sexy. I have skinny calves. But the rest of me just feels like I’m wearing a moo-moo (for those not from the US, a moo-moo is like a housecoat for fat people). I feel good about the ten pounds I’ve lost so far, but I guess I just have a ways to go before I am completely comfortable in my own skin. Rye in her comfy yet sexy dress.


The Good, the Bad, and the Physical labor

Down to the house today. The kids are going to grandmas and we are painting all day. Hopefully we will get most of the bedrooms painted. Then the last big project will be refinishing all of the floors.

My twitter boyfriend finally talked me into joining his twitter exercise group. It’s really a good thing. I need help being held accountable. And the group is nice. But, of course, me being me, felt the need to start strong. I found a good leg stretch routine. Even coming down the stairs after my shower and hour and a half later I ached. If it were my pussy I would be happy about it.

It’s going to be a long day, but Sir and I have the night alone together. Hopefully we’ll still have some energy tonight. Fingers crossed.

What shall we do today?

So, do you want to get your nipples pierced today?


Oh wait, we can’t. Your MRI is on Monday and you would have to take them out. No metal, remember.


It is amazing to me sometimes how quickly one’s mood can rise and fall. Honestly, I was surprised how on board I was. I was genuinely excited. Excited about the entire process. Thinking about what pretty jewelry I was going to get. How sensitive my nipples would become. Stupid MRI magnet.

I even have to take my collar off. That will feel even weirder. Maybe I’ll see if Sir will write on me with marker or something so I won’t feel so naked for the day. The MRI is of my foot and ankle, so some marker on my ass should go unnoticed.

However, today is tattoo day! If it’s not one form of body modification it’s another. All the cameo pieces of the sleeve are done, so now we are starting the lace. She’ll do the lower band today. If there’s time and my body holds up, I am also hoping to add my BDSM knod in the piece. I am getting ‘good girl’ in cursive on the underside of my arm. Probably my most overt D/s tattoo to date. I am hopeful to get time for it, but we’ll see. I won’t get back to her until early April, so I really try to take as much ink as my body will allow at each appointment. And apparently I hadn’t mentioned this addition to Sir. We talked on the way home yesterday and he was only upset that he would miss the pain that tattooing my armpit would likely cause. He’s often jealous of missing my pain faces; I don’t tell him that I tend to take that pain very well.

So, hopefully, after the MRI next week Sir will still be in the mood for my piercings. It is something we’ve discussed on and off for awhile, and each time, I get a little more interested. The healing time is a drawback, but I think it’s worth it. And the sooner I get them done, the sooner they will heal. And the sooner I can start decorating them with pretty jewelry…and the sooner Sir can start clipping things to them to turn them into horrible torture devices.

Still totally worth it.

Rye's breasts with vices on her nipples
Pretty un-pierced nipples, hopefully not for much longer.



Just the way it was

Having two kids is hard. They sap your energy like a mosquito sucks blood. Don’t get me wrong, I love them more than anything, but when the house is a mess and Sir expects dinner on the table when he gets home, it’s difficult.

When the baby turned one in August I expected things to get better. I figured sleep would improve and I would have more energy. But nothing changed. And my exhaustion quickly turned itself to guilt. Other woman always looked so put together. You see them at the grocery store, the doctor’s office, always dressed nice and calm. They run around with their three course dinners, their endless kids crafts, and their spotless homes. I was lucky if I could keep from trying to put on my four year old’s socks. What was I missing? Why couldn’t I juggle my kids with science experiments and homemade granola?

I thought that was just the way it was. I was a mother of two, therefore it was expected that I would always be exhausted. No matter that I was hardly thirty. Eventually I just could not stand it anymore. I thought that the diet and exercise would help, but if anything it made it worse. The doctor ran several tests. The day I went in to find out the results of my thyroid test I was so nervous. I wanted it to be my thyroid. I just wanted to know what was wrong with me. But my thyroid was fine. I was crushed. I just wanted to feel better. I never thought I would cry about something being healthy, but I did. I sat in his office and balled my eyes out because I just didn’t have the energy. After seeing how upset and tired I was the doctor had one last idea. And luckily for me it panned out.

I have a severe B12 deficiency. Apparently since my second pregnancy my body can no longer absorb the vitamin through food. I guess a healthy person should have a score of  over 1000 and mine was under 200. I had to have weekly shots and now I go once a month for an injection. It seems that B12 effects a number of things including your sleep, energy, depression, and digestive system.

It is amazing. It’s like an espresso that lasts a whole month. I got my shot yesterday and I will have the energy to pretend like I have my shit together for awhile. Seriously though, it was an amazing feeling to know that this is what people are supposed to feel like. To have energy and be able to sleep. It’s wonderful to not need a nap after I do the dishes. I am still on depression meds for the time being, but my dose is the smallest possible and once I really get a handle on this the doctor wants to try and take me off them completely. I would never have thought that depression could be so affected by a vitamin.

And even more interesting is how many people I have met that have this problem. Many after having children, some without. The nurse that gives me the shots gets them herself, and my tattoo artist has started them as well. So now I not only don’t feel guilty for being a lazy mom, but I don’t feel bad about taking meds to make it better. And I certainly don’t feel bad how I can actually get through my list of chores and still have the energy to beg to be fucked each night.


Version 2

I asked for a pair of running shoes for Christmas. My mom bought them. She said she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to purchase such small shoes. I wear size 7.5 (she doesn’t read this, but I still won’t say how big her feet are). I guess it could be called a New Year’s resolution, even though I’ve been trying to exercise and lose weight for months now. But I laced these up on January 1st and had a good run.

I was actually surprised how good I felt. With the holidays and all the work on the house my work out routine has been anything but consistent. Ok, let’s be honest, it’s been completely destroyed. But, as we move toward our literal move I would like to get it re-established so it doesn’t fall apart again. So I have been happy that these first few days have gone well. Three days and three work outs. I am hoping to get back to my cross country days. I run for an hour and feel pretty good, but I need to increase the intensity and the distance though to really make strides on the weight loss.

Sir is taking more of a supportive role as far as my exercise is concerned. Since we’ve been home the last few days he’s been helping to make sure I have time to work out. But this isn’t really something he cares to control. He wants me to be healthy, but it’s my responsibility to get there. In general he likes my body the way it is, stretch marks, tummy roll and all. But there is a health factor to being overweight, so he understands my goal.

Last year I struggled with that reality. I think I expected him to push me and regulate my progress. But out of work, the kids, and the rest of me, worrying about if I worked up a sweat without him isn’t really on the top of his list. He expects me to handle this. I think that’s the largest part of submission that I wasn’t prepared for. Submission is partly about taking care of your own shit. Keeping things together and not bothering him about every little problem. He knows that I am strong, even when I forget. And submission isn’t about pestering him every five minutes. It’s about taking care of the house, kids, and parts of me to make his day to day easier.

One of the big steps in 2016 is to make sure I remember my responsibilities as his sub. So running and managing my health is my challenge. I usually avoid everything from doctor’s appointments to eating right. But he wants me healthy, so in that sense I am following his orders. He just can’t micromanage this, so he trusts me to handle it.

So I’ll run and keep pushing myself. Maybe once I start losing some weight I will buy myself a new outfit to show Sir how much I want to look good for him. I know he will see the true submission in that. And it’s a win/win as I get to look sexy and he gets to see me in something tight and probably see-through.