Finishing up

…No Excuses November, that is (you thought I was going to say my blog, didn’t you? Hehehe…yeah, no…you’re still stuck with me.)

I missed 4 days of exercise in total. 2 were due to work and the others were just days where I That’s not really in keeping with NEN, but yeah…I fail too.

So that was 23 gym sessions and 3 long walks in 30 days. That’s nothing compared to my gym-going peak of 15 sessions a week…or my more recent 7 sessions a week thing, but it’s not too bad.

In keeping with my short attention span, I’m now done with enforced exercising and from tomorrow I’ll be starting Don’t Put It In Your Mouth December. That’s basically my plan to stop shovelling food into my mouth and do some mindful eating and good eating.

For the last ten days I’ve been waking up with stiff fingers, along the lines of not being able to bend them and they take about an hour to warm up before I can make a fist. My friend google tells me that it’s probably rheumatoid arthritis or possibly carpal tunnel. I’m hoping it’s the latter as having arthritis, particularly of the rheumatoid variety, at 37 would really suck.

Carpal tunnel is always a real and present danger for me as I spend all day at work on my computer and then I come home and spend hours on my laptop doing my story. I was thinking about the story the other day as I was languishing in the depths of writer’s block and having a “FUUUUUKKKK I’M SO UNINSPIRED!!” moment (I have a lot of those…) I was thinking that churning out a chapter every week is like having to write an essay every week for 15-20 weeks straight except you’ve got no topic, no research materials to help you and no crib notes.

Well, actually, I do have some research materials to help me. As I’ve said before I have a really funky browser history that includes such things as waterboarding, removing someone’s skin with powertools and psychological torture. I’m expecting ASIO (Australia’s equivalent of Homeland Security) to knock on my door one of these days. I’ve been down in the storage room looking at M’s powertools a lot recently as well. I think our neighbours also think I have a mental disorder…or a powertool fetish.

Anyway, I’ll be monitoring the finger situation and heading off to the doctor if the situation doesn’t improve.

The general malaise I’ve been feeling is still continuing except I’ve recently found some music to inspire me and I’ve been listening to a lot of Sia. I had no idea she was Australian! Lol…how embarrassing. That girl can certainly sing and when you pump up the volume and dance around the house in your underwear everything feels okay in the world.

Last week I also received an unsolicited copy of what is apparently “Australia’s Largest Holistic Magazine”, Living Now in my mailbox (is the universe trying to tell me something?)

Created with Nokia Smart Cam

You’ll notice it includes such interesting articles as, “Why does chanting work?” and “How to change the world by being a neo-capitalist”. I shit you not.

Created with Nokia Smart Cam

The bearded gentleman on the cover appears to be happy anyway, so maybe he’s onto something (or maybe he’s just smiling about being in a tantric relationship.)

Just between you and me, while I often scoff at transpersonal healing and other such topics, there’s a part of me that thinks it would be life-changing to run off to an ashram in India or go chant with some monks in Nepal. Maybe one day I’ll do it.

A few things

1. I shouldn’t make life-changing comments/decisions when I have my period

2. Cheesecake, even if it’s a generic frozen cheesecake that cost $3, still hits the spot

3. Gym attendance for 20 days straight wrecks your body

4. I need to be nicer to M. I’m terribly bitchy at times without even trying.

So, I broke my NEN commitment this evening. I just couldn’t rustle up the energy to haul my ass to gym for day 21. The completionist in me is thinking that it’s only 9pm and I could still go for a walk if I wanted to, but the part of me that can’t be assed is thinking about my aches and pains and is quite comfortable here on the couch writing a blog. So I’m going to side with my can’t-be-assed self and pat myself on the back for 20 days straight. I’ll finish up the 30 day challenge with something like 28 gym sessions under my belt, so that’s not too shabby.

M and I had a few talks after my bratty outburst the other day. I still need to work on early intervention techniques a.k.a. telling him something is wrong as soon as I start feeling something is amiss and talking to him like an adult instead of getting all melodramatic and blogging about it in my usual emotive, highly-stylized way.

One of the interesting things that came out of our talks was my comment to him:

“I didn’t sign up to be your girlfriend.”

It’s actually quite easy to forget you’re Master/slave when you live with someone and the world thinks you’re ‘partners’. And this is a comment that will probably get me into trouble as well, but I think sometimes that M thinks treating me like a slave is a punishment.

I guess it is punishment on some levels. It’s not ‘nice’ to be treated harshly, be beaten or have your privileges taken away. But I don’t always want nice. There is a part of me that wants to be objectified and challenged because being treated ‘nicely’ all the time makes me lose an appreciation for being treated ‘nicely’. Treats stop being treats when you have them all the time.

During the six months we were apart, I realised two things: the value of unconditional love is priceless and being a slave is more important to me than any other type of relationship.

I’m honoured and often feel very unworthy of the depth of M’s feelings for me. I wish I could be that passionate about something…anything…but instead of a consuming passion, I feel vague emotions about everyone and everything. I love him, but maybe I’m too emotionally retarded to feel anything else.

In terms of my slavery, he’s not doing me a favour my treating me nicely all the time, in fact, it almost feels like punishment to not be treated like a slave. It doesn’t give me a chance to really be who I am.

(It’s at this point that a lot of people reading this will be thinking that I’m a bad slave for not feeling slavey all the time and for putting the onus on him to make me feel like a slave and for not creating my own opportunities to serve. But honestly, I need help to get into that headspace. I need help to switch off all the white noise in my head and just be left with the silence of slavery.)

And once again, you’ll probably notice that I’m writing /wining about something here that I probably should be talking about with him to his face. Maybe old habits do die hard.

As far as being nice is concerned, I’m aware now that I often shut down his comments and suggestions with bitchy /sarcastic remarks instead of recognising them for the positive contributions they are. As an example, just today he asked if I wanted to go to a munch this weekend, to which I responded with, “Why the fuck would I want to do that?” instead of responding with a much more positive, “That a good suggestion, but I have issues with a few of the people attending so it’s probably not something I will feel comfortable at.”

It makes a big difference, doesn’t it? I really do need to reduce my dose of bitchy pills.


Mature conversations

I wrote a comment on a post about communication in M/s relationships on fetlife last night and it pissed M off. He said he is ‘pissed off’, but I think that is actually M-speak for, ‘You hurt me.’

Specifically there was one thought in what I wrote that he said pissed him off the most:

The M/s fantasy in my head also wants to make me believe that he is all-powerful and all-knowing. And while he may sometimes have delusions of grandeur, the reality is that after many years together he still doesn’t know how I like my coffee (Yes, he sometimes makes me coffee and that makes me a terrible slave…lol.) If he doesn’t know how I like my coffee, he’s never going to know those dark little secrets I keep hidden away inside. Unless I tell him.

He said I made him seem like a moron by saying that he couldn’t get something as simple as how I like my coffee right. Then he said that it made him seem like he doesn’t care or want to know about all my quirks and things I like, when in reality he has invested so much time and effort getting to know the nitty-gritty about me and all my complexities.

My understanding is that he is upset because I didn’t acknowledge the emotional investment he has made in me and not only did I not acknowledge it, but I dismissed it.

In reality M has spent in inordinate amount of time talking to me, finding out about me, and trying to understand my inner workings because he loves me.

I can count the number of relationships with men I’ve had on one hand. Of those people, M is the only one who has been interested enough in me to really find out who I am. He accepts me, knows me and takes in his stride all the little things about me that no-one else has even bothered with. And my father, well, the man can’t even spell my name properly so that tells you how much he cares or doesn’t care about his youngest daughter.

So I’ve been thinking about why I wrote what I wrote.

Was I making a dig at M? Probably, on some unconscious level. But honestly, while I was writing it, the writer in me thought that balancing the juxtaposition of something as easily accessible (i.e. you can see it every day) as coffee against something that is so difficult to see (i.e. someone’s deep dark secrets) would make an interesting and possibly amusing sentence. I didn’t want to paint him as incompetent or uncaring but I guess that’s how he comes across when you read it.

Coming back to the unconscious level thing though, there is some reason why I chose to write what I did. M pointed out that I could have written a variety of other things such as the fact that my failure to communicate ended our relationship 8 months ago and from that experience I learned the fact that assuming people knew and understood how I felt was wrong. He said he wouldn’t have had any problem with that type of comment. And yes, I could have written something along those lines, but I guess that wouldn’t have been passive aggressive enough for my liking.

So, to cut through the crap, I’ll admit to poking him and prodding him for my own amusement because intrinsically I’m not happy with life at the moment for a couple of reasons. The dig about the coffee was a thinly veiled complaint about our relationship and more specifically him, he can’t make my coffee right i.e. he can’t get our relationship right.

I’m not sure what I hope to gain from taking digs at him. Do I want a reaction? Do I want a fight? Probably not a fight, but there is an immature, girlish part inside me that wants to think that a comment about his lack of coffee skills will lead to him fixing our relationship. Yeah, I know, so not going to happen.

There is a part of me that thinks being passive aggressive is a nicer way of criticizing someone or complaining indirectly about things, but after being on the end of the passive aggressiveness of the Jap-chick at work, I have to admit that it’s not very nice and as frustrating as all fuck so I really need to do something about that. Maybe I should have done a No Passive Aggressiveness November instead of a No Excuses November. I guess there I could always do a Deciding to Make a Change December.

Unfortunately I come from a non-confrontational family where I spent all of my life smiling and making positive noises on the surface while all the negative stuff was said behind people’s back or just not mentioned at all. The female role models I grew up with lived miserable lives putting up and shutting up with horrible men who emotionally crippled them. I’ve never learned to be open or trusting with my feelings. It’s scary and confronting and something that’s going to take me a while to work out (37 years and counting…actually my mother suggested that I get some counselling about my issues and I scoffed at the idea at the time, but maybe I should. Emotionally healing and all that stuff.)

But I digress away from the not happy with life issue. There are basically two things bugging me at the moment:

1.Me, my weight, my issues with food and all the associated shit that goes with that hot mess.

2.My relationship with M.

The fact that I don’t like work, am bored, am uninspired and am fast approaching forty years of age are other issues on my radar but they’re not biggies like 1 & 2.

1. Is a no-brainer and I basically just need to stop putting food in my mouth and have some fucking self-control. I’m wondering just how many items of clothing I need to have in my wardrobe that I can no longer fit into before I finally commit to making a change for the better.

2. M disputes this, but I feel like we are just back to where we were before we split up. We’re doing exactly the same things, just in a different location, with the only new addition being him leaving the apartment for a few hours on the weekend to give me some alone time.We have two separate lives that only cross because we happen to live at the same address. I feel so frustrated by the situation. And disappointed. There is a loooot of disappointment – which makes me angry.

There was a lot of talk of change and commitments to change between us during the reconciliation process, but I don’t know where all that has gone. And I’m sitting here wondering what I was supposed to do, to change, as part of my commitment.

I think I was supposed to be a better slave. There was talk about the five rules: boots, collar & cuffs, slutwear, call him Master, be obedient. Have I done those things? No. And the reason I haven’t is because I don’t feel like I’m being met halfway. I’m not going to stick my neck out if he won’t. That’s not very slavey behaviour I know, but that’s my mental state at the moment.

Maybe we need to have a review, revisit our reconciliation talks and emails. Have a look at what we both committed to and talk honestly about where we’re going with all this.

I bottled up all my frustration before and let it out by walking out the door. It wasn’t the most mature way to handle the situation and now I realise I need to have those mature conversations, the difficult conversations and trust him with my feelings.

I don’t like to fail and at the moment I feel like a failure. Failure to communicate.



Well, I’m about halfway through my self-imposed 30 days of everyday exercise challenge and haven’t missed a day yet.

This week’s menu was:

Sunday – Body Combat

Monday- Body Combat

Tuesday – Flygym aerials

Wednesday-Flygym fusion


Friday- Step

And tomorrow I’ve got aerial yoga with the silks.

I feel like a bit of a gym whore at the moment because I’m frequenting no less than four gyms. I guess it’s good to mix it up though and particularly for me and my short attention span, doing new things is helping me get through NEN (No excuses November).

In case you’re wondering, Piloxing (pilates and boxing) was a little too ‘dancey’ for my taste. (It also disturbed me that the instructor was wearing leg warmers and letting out energetic woah!s every few minutes. Hello 1980’s?) I don’t think I’ll be taking that class again any time soon, although it was a decent arm-toning workout.

On Wednesday I nearly peed myself doing an aerial front-flip ala this.

And a backflip ala this.

I hate that these videos make it look so easy…lol.

Have I mentioned that I’m really not good with heights? How I don’t like to go above the second rung on a ladder? How it took me months before I felt comfortable going out on my glass-fronted balcony on the fifth floor?

But I like that aerial stuff makes me scared. ‘Cause that’s the way I roll.

The next couple of weeks are going to involve some 6am gym classes because I have customers from Japan visiting. Yes, it’s that time of the year again when I have to wine, dine and make uncomfortable small talk with those people from that chain of 6,000 or so islands. The introvert in me loathes this time of the year so much. I can’t wait until mid-February when it will all be over…


The human body is a very interesting thing. You can punish it in certain ways and it will take quite a beating and bounce back very quickly but if you do other things, even very slight things, you can do irreparable damage, very quickly.

A week after my most recent beating, there is very little left to show for it:


(I was just about to get an attitude-adjustment paddling when this pic was taken.)

And a bit closer with some post-paddling pink:


Most of the bruises are yellowing and there’s not even a twinge.

Master walloped me for over half an hour with an assortment of implements and afterwards I could barely sit down. There were big lumpy masses of broken blood vessels beneath the skin and it was stinging like I had little paper cuts all over my botty. Three days later I wasn’t feeling any pain and it had already begun to heal. If he had been hitting me anywhere else though, the story would have been quite different.

So much of kink is about toeing the fine line between ouchie good and ouchie bad. While beating someone’s botty is not very edgy, you could theoretically do some real damage if you happened to have shitty aim. Also with rope, put it in the right place and your nerves are happy, put it in the wrong place and you can suffer nerve damage that may or may not heal. The same can be said for just about everything. And that’s why you need to know what you’re doing.

/community service announcement about safety

I posted a little piece of writing to fetlife last week after the play party in an effort to explain how I differ from most other slaves/subs/bottoms. When I’m played with, I stay silent and still and that apparently freaks out a lot of people. We had several people watching us play who started saying voicing concerns for my well-being and someone even came up to me in a break between implements and wanted to know if I was ok and if I needed my hand held (yeah…no.)

For some people, having the biggest, most over-the-top reactions to stuff is part of how they enjoy play. For me, if I can manage to stay stock-still and not make a sound, then it’s been a good session.

I know a lot of tops enjoy a good hearty reaction and sometimes I’m sorry that I can’t give them one, but there’s just something in me that wants to take the challenge and for some reason, giving a reaction feels akin to having failed.

Weird, right?

I guess if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the alternative lifestyle, it’s that even if you think you’re weird, there’s always someone a lot weirder.

Today also signals the end of week one of No Excuses November! My exercise tally for the week was as follows:

Sunday – Body combat

Monday – Body combat

Tuesday-Body balance

Wednesday-Aerial yoga

Thursday-Body attack

Friday- 1hr15min power walk

Saturday-Flygym fusion (pilates, yoga, strength training)

I’ve started taking some aerial fitness classes using the flygym which differs from the aerial yoga silks in that it’s stretchy material and you have additional slings for your legs and straps for your hands. I’m doing an all aerial class on Tuesday night so that should be fun and I’ll see how Peter Pan-ish/Cirque Du Soleil I can get (I’m estimating not very…lol)


I’ve also got a pilates/dance/boxing class that you do with weighted gloves called Piloxing to go to next week just to keep things interesting. Every picture I see about it has this blonde chick instructor and her plastic smile has me worried.


Feel free to come and join the No Excuses November (at least 30mins of exercise everyday- no excuses!) if you haven’t already and I will wave my pom poms furiously in your direction.


There aren’t many parts of me that aren’t hurting at the moment. Between aerial yoga, gym and this:


I’m feeling quiet ouchie.

But, you know, I like it like that…*grins*

We went to a play party last night and my beating window was graciously open in a timely fashion. So once the bench became free (my arms were about to drop off after the morning’s aerial yoga class so it was a ‘No, thank you’ to the St. Andrew’s cross,) M selected some implements and over the next 46mins (according to the time stamps on the photos! Lol…) worked me over well.


The flogger with the bits of ‘barbed leather’ was particularly challenging and even elicited some quiet swearing from me. The rubber paddle that I lovingly nicknamed, “The Hunka Hunka Burning Love Tyre” also hurt like a mother-fucker.


And while my ass was on fire, I looked out the window to the lawn outside to see something else on fire:


A gentleman was cracking two whips simultaneously while they were on fire. Holy coordination batman!

Then I woke up this morning and after doing a photo shoot of my butt in the living room (as you do after having a thorough beating the night before…) I decided that I would go to body combat class.

Every single knee-lift and jack, every kick and every jump I did in that hour just plain hurt.

And aerial yoga on Saturday morning? Holy crap, did I think I was going to die! We had a different instructor who does classes that are more ‘strength-orientated’. There were several points during that hour where I wanted to cry, but at the end we did a bat pose:


Which was very cool.

But before that, we did this:


(which freaked me out because I felt like I was going to fall)



(which hurt like a mother-fucker)

And this:


(another one that made me feel like I was going to fall)

As well as fifty million one-legged squats while standing up in the hammock with the other leg extended, pull-ups, leg lifts and some inversions (which were the easiest part of the class!)

Then at the end of the class while I’m standing there with my shoulders burning and my abs on fire, the instructor casually mentions that the beginner class, which I’m currently doing, is about five times easier than the regular class and that if you can do an inversion yourself without help (which I can- squee!) then you should move to the regular class.

And I was like, “Yeah…that ain’t happening any time soon.”

I’ve made a commitment for November a.k.a. No Excuses November, to exercise for at least 30mins a day, every day for the month. I’ll be going to gym and yoga and on the days where I just need a break from that, I’ll probably go for a walk or something to fill my 30min quota.

I was originally going to do No Junkfood November but somehow that just didn’t have the same ring to it (and I seriously doubted my will-power). If anyone wants to join my challenge drop me a comment and I’ll go all Inspirational Life Coach on your ass.

Just kidding.

No, really, I will.