I’ve had an amazingly difficult, emotional week. I had a physical thing that has temporarily marred me physically, and it blindsided me.
I’m vain, you see.
Yeah, I’m overweight, the short, round sub. But I’m still okay with how I look, until this past week.
I told Him he should uncollar me. That I couldn’t see him for a year until I heal.
First world, very vanity driven issues, nilla?
Sometimes we just can’t get out of own way, can we?
He sent me a text within MINUTES of my sending.
Get off your fucking pity party train.
He doesn’t care. *I* care enough for two of us, but to him? It’s a non-issue.
“Make a play date for late October, early November.”
I haven’t done that yet. I’m still feeling pretty sensitive, and though I’ve stopped the pity party tears, I am still not…not sure? I dunno. I want to be perfect for him, you know?
He just wants to beat me. The only thing *He* cares about is the color my ass will be when He’s done playing with me.
He’s pretty fucking awesome. And in that no-nonsense way of his, He has managed to quickly snap me out of the doldrums of what could have been a very serious fall into depression.
I was on the very edge of tetering into that black hole. He not only pulled me back, he threw a lasso around my neck and lifted me back. So far back that I’m starting to think about ….
You know…at the end of October.
Or early November.