I’m 32. I know, that’s not really that old, but I am feeling my age today. Mostly the adult part.
I was really hurt yesterday that my husband didn’t say ‘happy birthday’ in the morning. He didn’t say it when we messaged back and forth while I was work. He didn’t say it until I had gone up to pout in our room when I got home from work. I know, it makes me sound like a four year old, but I don’t care. No one at my office knew it was my birthday, and I wasn’t going to shout it from the rooftops. So as far as work was concerned it was just another day.
And I should have been okay with that. I don’t really like attention from people I don’t know. Private attention from Sir, a lover, or a friend is fine, but I don’t like being a public spectacle. However, as the day wore on, I could feel myself starting to dip. It may have just been that the husband remained silent, but by the time I got home I was a mess. I don’t know why it affected me so much.
I think I had just hoped for a bit more attention at home. The boys had made me a card and my husband had baked a cake on Sunday. It was lovely, and the gifts they bought were very nice. Maybe I just needed a hug.
But, now I am 32. Fretting about things I cannot change won’t help me move forward. And it’s not like I had a terrible birthday. Lovely people wished me a happy day and the fact that they thought of me was special. Now to finish out these last few weeks at my job and start at a place where I’m not self-conscious sharing my birthday with my co-workers.
This has been a year of ups and downs (how generic is that?). I’m not really sure I’ve had a year with more dramatic highs and lows. It’s just odd how many personal goals I have achieved this year. I think they were surrounded by so many global lows that it’s hard to find them through the fog. Between Brexit and the clusterfuck that was the U.S. Presidential election, it’s been tough. Not to mention all the influential people that have passed away this year. It’s been a public year that I would love to leave behind, but a personal year that I wouldn’t mind repeating.
I started my own business. – It has always been a goal and last February I officially got my L.L.C. up and running. I haven’t become a worldwide sensation, but I have a few clients and some pretty business cards. Hopefully I can give it more time in the coming year, but it will probably never be a full-time thing, and that’s okay.
We moved into our house. – Although we bought it in 2015, we didn’t officially move in until May of this year. The kitchen remodel and refinishing the floors took several months, and it was great to move into finished product rather than a renovation. There are still projects to do, there always are, but we are finally settled. Moving from rental to rental was a stressful process, and the idea of not looking at a moving truck for a decade or two sounds downright blissful.
I went back to work. – Separate from the business, I went back to work. I had been employed as a consultant for a database company from home. But when the opportunity came up to get back into an office and get good insurance coverage for everyone, I jumped at it. Don’t get me wrong, I miss my old masturbation sessions with Jack in the afternoon, but getting out of the house has been good for me. I mean, I wear more than sweatpants now, so that’s something.
My sleeve tattoo is finally finished. – I need to get a good picture to show it off, but I’m beyond happy with it. The whole thing took about 18 months to complete. There were several months between some of my appointments due to various hangups for me and my artist. But early in December I was able to go for my last piece of lace and touch-ups. I’m sure I’ll have a few spots that I will go back and have darkened at some point. Right now though, I couldn’t be happier with what she was able to do with my design request.
And then there were the more kinky aspects of my year….
We opened our marriage. – After talking a lot about other partners and sexual experiences, my husband and I decided to open our marriage. Looking back, this has been a roller coaster of a decision. I had a not go good interaction with a local dom that made me take a huge step back and question everything. Luckily, I kept an open mind and learned from my mistakes. Finding Jack and Jill and visiting them this fall was an amazing experience. Hopefully we will be able to work out another visit (or twelve) this year.
I started identifying as Poly. – I think I can safely say that this is purely because of Jack. After my negative experience, I never really thought that I would find someone that I had a deep emotional connection with outside of my marriage. When we opened up, I was looking for a friend with benefits. Someone to joke around with and maybe exchange oral once and awhile. But he is so much more than I could have hoped for. Aside from sharing a birthday, he has become such a good friend and lover. I am so happy to call him secondary and I know that our relationship will do nothing but grow in the coming year. (Get it, I said coming. He appreciates me, don’t judge.)
I had sex with a woman. – I don’t really classify myself as bisexual. Women are beautiful and I appreciate their minds and bodies. I just don’t really have emotional connections with them like I do with men. The one woman I thought I loved broke my heart, so it’s not really anything I’ve looked for. Visiting California this fall was a wonderful chance to have my first threesome and experience a woman’s body. Jill is lovely and I appreciate her letting me have that connection with her. Certainly something I would love to do again.
I doubled my ‘slept with’ list. – Not only did I have my first same-sex sexual encounter this year, but I actually doubled the number of people I have slept with. I went from three to six. I know, I was shocked too. Not sure I will be able to do the same next year, but as that number hasn’t changed at all in the decade before this, I was impressed.
I finally stopped ‘fighting’ my submission. – Through everything that Sir (my husband) has been dealing with this year I kept coming back to whether or not I really needed submission. Maybe I could just turn it off and everything would be easier. It took me awhile, but I realized that that’s stupid. I’m a submissive. I always have been in one form or another and I know now that I always will be. And I have the power to submit to who I choose. I know these seem like obvious conclusions to reach, but it’s taken me awhile to get there.
As far as resolutions go I tend to be too optimistic. I set high expectations for myself and then hate myself by the end of January. I always want to lose weight and write more, so we’ll see how that goes. My 101 Things in 1001 Days ends this year, so there are several things to work toward on there. Lots more photos, reflection, and erotic writing to come. And, I’m sure, the continuing fight with my depression will appear from time to time. You know, to break up all the boob pics.
Twitter Boyfriend: I do hope that you are giving yourself enough care and attention and not trying to be superwoman or supermom too much.
Me: Self care and attention doesn’t pay the bills. I am trying though.
Twitter Boyfriend: I know it does. But I do see some things that you’ve worked on taking a bit of a backseat at the moment. Just want to know that this is only temporary.
Me: Like what?
Twitter Boyfriend: Your writing and diet tracking are the two I’ve notice. I suspect there are other I don’t see – reading/craft I suspect.
Me: I wish I could argue with that.
Balance is something that I used to be good at. At least, I thought I was. I would make sure I set aside time for myself when I was working. I would take a half day or even a whole day off every few months to relax. I would wear sweat pants, sew, clean; it was nice to feel productive and have ‘me time’. I could always balance time with Sir and his work without issue. Even in law school we managed to set aside time for one another.
Flash forward to two kids, a house, a dog, and two full-time jobs. Three if you count my business. My tight rope has gotten narrower and my balance has worsened. And that isn’t even taking into account our attempts at D/s in and out of the bedroom. I just feel like the ‘have to’ things are always taking precedent over the ‘want to’ items. The twitter boyfriend commented that my writing and diet tracking haven’t been great lately. But they haven’t. Work and birthday parties have been my focus for weeks now.
So now, how to get balance back? I hate to put too much pressure on it, but I have high hopes for my California trip. Even the plane flights. Time to read my book, or write some flash fiction. I have a day on a train. No joke, I get on the train at around 9:30 am and don’t get into L.A. until near 10 pm that night. I’m honestly just as excited for that as I am for my first threesome. Don’t judge me!
I think over the next few weeks before my trip I want to try and find a better way to balance things. Hopefully that won’t continue to mean that my diet and creative projects aren’t ignored. Maybe even some more regular D/s play could be found to fit in somewhere. Full bondage or wax play may not work in the schedule, but more spankings are always a good thing.
I’ve been struggling. I would love to blame it on a mid-week low, but it’s really been about a week and a half.
I pretend to have my life together. I’ve actually pretty good at it. Balancing work stuff at work, and then coming home and putting out fires (not literally) until bedtime. But as good as I am at pretending, I’m rubbish in real life.
I’m exhausted when I get home after my ten hour day. So my business work hasn’t been touched. I need to sort through invoices and payments as it’s a new month, but by the time I get home it’s not a priority. Dinner and house work top the list until the kids go to bed. And I do try to actually spend time with them in the evenings. Once they crash, the idea of lots of math and moving money around seems scary. I’m too afraid that I will zone out and make a mistake.
Then, of course, I crawl into bed and lay awake for hours thinking of all the things that should have gotten done. The pile of dishes in the sink, or the bathroom that didn’t get cleaned. When I try to ignore it and think of something else it just get’s worse. Then it becomes, the sex we didn’t have. And are we even D/s anymore? I get wrapped up in labels and fears for another hour or two. Eventually I fall asleep with these thoughts turning into dreams. And then our toddler wakes me up (approx. 5:30ish) to ‘cuddle’ in bed. And by cuddle I mean kick my bladder until I just get up to go to the bathroom and hop in the shower.
But that’s all routine at this point. I’ve been in that cycle for more than a week now. Why, all of the sudden, have I been thrust into this depressive low?
My weight loss has stalled. But that could be because of the slump, not the cause of it. Our BDSM play has been on ice for awhile now. And sex has been sporadic for longer than that. We have been a bit more hands off because of the vasectomy. Maybe that’s it? I think I’m just grasping at straws. Trying to find something to blame, when it’s probably just my hormones cycling around, telling me to hate myself again.
Tuesday was just an off day. I really tried not to let it bother me. I tried to be positive and up beat as I struggled with each little annoyance. But it didn’t work. It took so much energy to wear a smile through each an every problem that by the time I drove home after work I had a massive headache. And having a headache as you walk into a home with two toddlers (one of which is sick) is not a good plan.
The 2 year-old is on the mend. My dad came to stay with him on Monday so Sir and I could both go to work. Yesterday, however, we had to tag team time off. I stayed home in the morning so he could go to a meeting and then I went into the office in the afternoon. Getting to lounge around in comfy clothes was nice. But the crying child made it slightly less relaxing. That and my brain constantly worrying about the piles of work on my desk kept the morning rather tense.
Once I got into the office things calmed down. Except, of course, one of my co-workers who decided that I smeared my son’s snot all over my clothes before I left. She was positive that I was merely an incubator for my son’s illness to infect her immediately. This, while slightly annoying, would have been easy to ignore. But she let my presence sour her entire mood and preceded to sigh and grump to everyone for the rest of the afternoon.
This was after Monday when I got the call that my son was sicker than we thought. That was when she informed me that that is why she was a stay at home mom (her kids are college-age now). Because, obviously, since I was a working mother, that explained why my son was ill. Like I was being punished for my employment or something.
Sorry for the mini-rant, but without significant outside assistance, it is very difficult to be a one-income family anymore. If you can do it, good for you. But don’t judge and tell me that I am somehow a poor parent because it’s something that I have to/choose to do. I love my job. Don’t even try to make me feel guilty about it.
So, anyway, headache when I got home…
It wasn’t even like I could enjoy a good drink and a hard fuck either. My calories for the day were shot and after two nights of little sleep Sir and I were knackered. Well, almost knackered 🙂
So I had to sit through a meeting about insurance yesterday. Not much makes you feel older than sitting through a two hour meeting about insurance plans. Mostly because you pay attention to what is being said. A huge part of why I took this job was so that family insurance wouldn’t be an issue with Sir and I both having our own businesses. So looking at deductibles and dental coverage is a responsible parent thing that makes me want to sit around in pajamas and watch cartoons on Saturday morning.
Anyway, so I get there early (because OCD) and pick my seat around a set-up of tables in a square. Each seat has a binder of materials to flip through as other people slowly filter in. I, rather stupidly, left my phone back at the office, so I glanced at vision plans (because blind). With seats filling up and only a few minutes to spare he walked in.
My eye-candy for the morning has on his department logo shirt. It actually fit him and made his arms look possibly even more muscular than they were. Simple brown slacks were not overly dressy and his ass looked amazing. But (as previous posts on the topic will a test) he facial hair did me in. His beard was full, dark brown, and trim. He was probably a few years younger than me, but the beard game him a maturity that I found even sexier.
He sat down directly across from me, a perfect vantage point. He looked a little lost, to be honest. He began flipping through the binder, as if he wanted to make sure he was in the right place. He glanced up at me and I smiled. He smiled back, but still looked uncomfortable. After another few people wandered in and shared niceties, I glanced back over to see how eye-candy was doing. His discomfort face still hadn’t changed and I soon found out why.
As much as I had appreciated his pants, he did not. He reached down several times to adjust himself. It was like a series of small moves to see if they made a difference. Like moving his cock from side to side or shifting one ball and then the other. I kept randomly flipped pages as I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I was fascinated.
However, whatever he was doing wasn’t making enough of a difference. The poor guy kept moving things around without any relief. All I could think was how much I wanted to crawl across the room to him and lend a hand. See if I couldn’t help fix his little (or big, definitely big) problem. I’m sure his face of discomfort would turn to confusion at first. But I bet I could have gotten at least a few moans from him as I sorted out what ailed him.
When the presenter came in she put down a sign in sheet for all of us. Eye-candy took this opportunity to stand and ‘stretch’ as he walked over to it. When he came back to his seat his pained face had gone. Obviously, he had managed to sort himself, and his bits, out.
I stared at him for the next two hours thinking about how I could have done a much better job.
I head out this morning to my first real client for my business. They aren’t related to me or anything. Okay, they are friends of mine, but it still counts as I am being paid. My bank account is up and I am happy to get going. So we’ll see how it goes. Going from a part-time job to a full-time job and a business is a a challenge. But it’s amazing.
I feel so good. I’m busy. Sleep is overrated anyway. But I feel like I’m contributing to the family and even though I have less time with the kids, the time I do have is more positive. I’m happy and calm rather than stressed out and frazzled like I have been. I think the weight loss is helping too, though I’m not sure which is the catalyst for the other.
It’s just generally been a really positive experience so far. Working has always been important for me, and Sir has supported that. As much as the thought of being a 24/7 kept slave sounds amazing, most of me knows that it really wouldn’t be. I’d love the control, but I’m not sure it would work out how we both would want it do. And with two boys appetites growing exponentially, having two incomes is quickly becoming a necessity.
So we’ll see what happens with my business. It will probably just stay an evenings and weekends thing for awhile. My full-time job has insurance and that is important for us right now. Eventually I would love to be able to work for myself full-time, but I’m not sure I have enough friends to pay for that.
I’m finishing up my third week at my new job. I think the honeymoon period of feeling perfectly qualified is over. I just want to feel useful. Tell me to do something. I’m not saying it will be perfect the first time, but I’ll ask questions, take notes, and fix whatever corrections you have. However, I won’t complain, and the next time I won’t ask the same questions or make the same mistakes.
It’s a bit like starting a relationship with a new Dom. I don’t know all the rules, and punishments will be required. After a few days and scenes though, I will have it figured out. I will learn all the ins and outs of what you want. Eventually, I won’t need told at all. I will have the system down. Your coffee will be perfectly prepared and your shirts ironed just so. Once you show me once (twice if I’m tired or drunk) you can expect the world. If I disappoint you it’s my own fault and I will probably beat myself up more than you.
I always thought I would be a great personal assistant. Getting pleasure from delivering a perfectly toasted bagel or keeping their schedule organized. But that’s not the job I have. I am trying to learn the quirks of the three people I work with. I keep trying to get them to show me how to complete certain projects to help take things off their plates. Most of our conversation stem from them talking about the piles on their desks and how overwhelmed they are.
I can only ask so many times if they have something for me to do though. Finally today I sat back down at my desk and sent myself an email with things I wanted to remember to do tonight. I have a grocery list going too. My desk can’t be organized anymore. I think I may just start cleaning the two empty desks in our office tomorrow. It will at least get me out of my chair and make me feel useful for a bit.
I’m just whining. And it’s the Friday before a long weekend, so it seems an even sillier time to do so. We are heading to my parents, so I will have several useful opportunities there. As they get ready to move into a smaller townhouse they are de-cluttering on scale not seen in that farm house before. Several ciders and some traditional grilled food for the fourth of July should make for a pretty relaxing weekend all around. Maybe after a few drinks I won’t care about feeling useful for anyone but Sir.
***I should probably title all my posts with some sort of warning. Just thought I should warn you of the pending ick factor that could be this post for some people. Mostly men. In fact, if you are a woman you will probably find it funny, or at the very least understand it. If you are a man and you find it funny, I want to have sex with you 🙂 ***
So my new job gave me a yeast infection. I shit you not! Not from a toilet seat or anything, but because I have to wear real clothes. I got so used to wearing long flowy dresses with no underwear at home. Some days I wouldn’t get dressed at all. And my pussy was happy. Aired out and cool; a picture of shaved perfection. Good times.
Now that I am working outside the house full-coverage is required. Pants, long-sleeves, and shoes (I know, it’s crazy!). And even though my body is trying to acclimate, my cunt can’t keep up. No matter how fast I strip when I walk in the door at night, the damage has already been done. Sitting in all those layers, even air conditioned, is leaving my pussy a sweaty mess. And apparently this week it was hot enough to throw off my PH balance completely.
So it looks like no sex for me this weekend as I walk around in as little as possible and let the medicine work it’s magic. Medically induced orgasm denial is the worst though. And after being in a pissy mood all week, I was really looking forward to as many poundings as I could beg for. I’m sure Sir won’t mind the extra oral attention though until all my holes are up and running again.
This was just a side effect of working outside the home that I wasn’t prepared for. Though I guess I should have been. My body rejects attempts to wear any more than is strictly necessary. I just hope that after this my cunt will fall in line and accept that during office hours it has to be happy with the pretty thongs that I wear under my business attire.
Next thing you know my tits will start giving me lip.
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.