Food seems to be a hot topic among subby folk. I think I’ve lost count of the number of blogs I’ve read where the sub was under some sort of food restriction or exercise regime. In fact, I’m in that position myself- I’m on a strict diet of gruel and only gruel. Except, of course, Master’s gruel seems to come in all sorts of lovely flavours like asparagus risotto-flavoured gruel or cheesecake-flavoured gruel. In fact I don’t think I’ve eaten so well in my life than on my current diet of gruel and only gruel.
At the moment I’m supposed to ask for permission to eat sweets or treats and probably 80% of the time I do. I don’t think Master has ever refused a request- which is good in some cases and bad in others. Part of me wants him to ‘control’ my eating and part of me doesn’t. The part that wants him to control it is the part that is imagining my naked body in front of a crowd of people at the next play party. The part that doesn’t want him to control it is the part that wants immediately to stuff a whole chocolate mudcake down my throat.
I’ve never really had a healthy relationship with food. I constantly obsess about it and alternate between binges and diets. I can spend a whole week just planning what I’ll eat on the weekend and I have insatiable cravings that I’ve learned to satisfy with exactly what it is that I’m craving because if I don’t, I’ll just empty out the fridge of everything edible and then go and eat what I was originally craving as well. Food has always been something that I reward myself with and while I’m fully aware that that is the worst thing I could possibly be doing, I don’t know what else to give myself for being a ‘good girl’.
Last weekend was a good example of a stress binge. I needed chocolate. It was 10am and I needed chocolate. I read blogs and tidied up the kitchen. I still needed chocolate. I went and took a bath to take my mind off chocolate. I still needed chocolate. Eventually I asked Master if I could go and get some. He said yes. So I got dressed, walked to the shops, spent 30mins wandering up and down the aisles angsting about what to buy, bought a block of chocolate, a chocolate cream sponge roll and some cheezels, then came back and ate it all except half the cheezels that I gave to Master.
It was not pretty.
Then I felt incredibly guilty and wrote the blog about wanting to be beaten black and blue. I don’t think it was so much a need to be beaten as a need to be punished that was the catalyst for my thoughts. I’d abused his body and felt I deserved to pay for it.
Even though it sounds like nothing but a big fat excuse at this stage, work is getting to me. And I mean really getting to me. I don’t think I’ve struggled through a ‘task’ so much in my life. The work is not difficult, in fact, it’s brain-numbingly monotonous, but I just don’t want to be weighed down anymore by angry people and sad people and stupid people. It’s soul-sapping stuff for hour after hour every day and I’m really finding it a massive challenge to get through the day.I’m taking every possible ‘toilet break’ I’m allowed and just sitting there in the privacy of the cubicle taking deep breaths and telling myself, “I can do it, I can do it.” Thus the binge starts when the weekend comes around because I’ve gotten through yet another week and I’m rewarding myself with comfort of the most bittersweet kind.
There was a time when I wanted to have total eating restrictions imposed on me. I guess I thought that it was easier to stick to a diet if the orders came down from the big M. I also thought that knowing that every morsel that went into my mouth was ‘Master approved’ would be a good thing. But that idea never really addressed the underlying issues.
When the relationship is working and everything is good, it’s easy to be comforted by the security of the dynamic and food doesn’t come to the forefront of my mind. I find that I feel safe and content and don’t ‘need’ anything when everything is good. However, when things go askew and I get needy and stressed I tend to turn to food for comfort and to fill the void.
But I’ve since come to the conclusion that controlling my diet and my body is something that only I can do. It’s not up to Master to keep me healthy- that’s something I should be doing as (a) a responsible adult and (b) a slave. I’m not a child who needs to be lectured about nutrition and exercise, so depending on him to keep me in line, really is passing the buck. Of course, it’s great to be able to say, “But you wanted to ravish me instead of letting me go to gym!” or “But your cheesecake-gruel was so yummy I had seconds!” At the end of the day, they’re all just convenient excuses for being slack with his body- a body that I should be looking after for him- not the other way around.
Having said that though, the whole ‘sexual slave’ aspect and ‘piece of meat on display’ thing puts a lot of pressure on me and I’m sure that also goes for anyone else who suffers through the embarrassment of public nakedness. I think that’s why I find it hard to ‘let go’ and enjoy sessions. Instead of enjoying the sensations and use, I’m thinking about my muffin top, stretch marks and flabby underarms. I’m angsting about what other people are seeing and thinking instead of enjoying what Master and I are sharing.
When will my flabby underarms change into angel’s wings…I wonder….