My first thought is that I drink a lot of cappuccino…(I don’t know, is four shots in two big-ass mugs over two days a lot?)
My second thought is that I surprise myself sometimes. For a person who measures their worth in ticking things off her bucket list and receiving praise from others, I shouldn’t really be surprised, but I am still surprised when I manage to do things.
Out of the many hundreds of pictures of me floating around the place, I look at two pictures a lot.
(a) because I had thigh gap and
(b) because it’s the aftermath of probably the most solid beating I’ve ever had
And this one:
My obligatory black and white photo of pre-wedding dressing.
I don’t really know why I keep coming back to these two photos.
Maybe they remind me of things I have accomplished and when I’m floundering in a state of limbo it helps to remind myself that I have done and can do things.
I did my 8km run yesterday. I’d forgotten how running gives you a lot of alone time in your head. To distract myself from the constant chatter coming from my body saying, ‘Why the fuck are you doing this to me??’ I usually have a running conversation (no pun intended) with myself about various things. A lot of those conversations involve how I should be getting more – more out of life, more out of relationships, more out of this bdsm thing I dabble in.
I always remember that episode of Sex and the City in Season 6, where Carrie is talking to Petrovsky about having children. She is trying to decide if she really wants children or not and says that if she really wants something in her life, she always finds a way to make it happen so the fact that she hasn’t had a child probably means that she doesn’t really want one.
I think that’s pretty much true for me too. When I want something, I go and get it. Things I don’t really want, I’ll procrastinate over and fart around with; I won’t put my heart and soul into it.
So, bdsm…I dabble every now and then but I don’t make it a priority and I don’t put my heart and soul into it. Based on what I know of myself, that means it’s not something that I really want.
Sometimes bdsm feels like flossing my teeth. It’s something I feel I should be doing, but I can’t really be assed. I used to lie and make excused to the dentist about my lack of flossing and now I just own my lack of interest in it.
Should I bite the bullet and do the same with this sad-excuse for slavery that I do?