ONLY 7 pounds?!!! 

  

In order to explain the above statement here’s some tidbits of info about me. I am a yoyo when it comes to my weight. My yoyo is a seasonal phenomena. In the autumn and winter months I do my impression of Winnie the Pooh indulging in comfort food, which is never in short supply and due to the frigid temperatures my activity options narrow and I slow down, and plump out a bit. Then as soon as spring hits, the great outdoors beckon, I bump up the activity and by summers end, I am a lithe and limber Tigger, bouncing from one event to the next. It doesn’t overly concern me in the grand scheme of appearance and current social and media trends. I like to eat what I like to eat and I have maintained an very active lifestyle and for the most part those two opposing influences cancel eachother out.  
That being said, I am not completely without vanity nor am I willing to opt out of my more physically demanding activities just yet due to poor fitness. This spring when I injured my leg, my usual physical activity slowed to a crawl, poutiness over said injury bumped up my junk food intake and my previous winters weight did not melt away. My fat pants became my everyday pants and even those began getting tight.
In September, realizing another autumn was just around the corner, I gave myself a shake and decided to remedy the situation. I created a scheduled fitness routine. Added a meal planning/calorie counting app to my phone and actually made a conscious effort to slough off some of the unwanted pounds. Resisting the seasonal treats has been challenging. But making myself aware of my calorie intake was a good step. I am not and probably will never be completely rigid on the calorie limit. I ENJOY food too much. But keeping an eye on portion sizes and enforcing moderation has kept me within my intake goals mostly. The activity has been enjoyable, though actually maintaining the schedule warred with my workoholic tendencies. But I am goal oriented so I quickly figured out that hiccup.
All in all I was proud of my efforts, I began feeling the benefits as well. Improved energy levels, better muscle tone, looser fitting clothing. I knew I was on the right track. Though I was dying of curiosity I refused to step on the scale. I was on a plan that was supposed to lose me 10 pounds in 5 weeks. I would only weigh myself every 5 weeks. Inside I was secretly gloating, I was exceeding some of my activity goals, crunching numbers in my head, I was thinking I was gonna be closer to a 12 pound loss.  

Finally weigh in day arrived, I stepped on the scale and watched the dial settle. 7 pounds lost… My over achieving brain snapped! Only seven pounds???  

Now, I know it was still a victory. I KNOW that in my logical brain. But in that moment, my mind flashed back to all my moments of restraint. The treats forgone, the crunches done. I threw a pretty impressive tantrum, I am glad only Sparks and Sir Griswald were witness to it. Sparks hid under the bed and Sir Griswald gave me one of his unimpressed ‘Daddy’ looks (to which I responded by sticking out my tongue).  

Then I threw out the scale. I had to do it. I personally know that the benefits were way more then the numbers on that scale, but I do know that the disheartened feeling that came over me at the moment of truth, was gonna be counterproductive to achieving my goal. The urge to wallow in a pint of ice cream had been almost overwhelming in that moment.  
I resisted and remained resolved, so on with my current routine I go. I am a little at ends because I do want to find some sort of measuring system to track my progress. I am thinking of doing measurements on a monthly basis. Maybe seeing inches disappear instead of pounds lost will provide more encouragement.
Well, that is my self pitying rant for the day. Hopefully it wasn’t too boring. 

Whispered Confessions

  
Whispered confessions:
I need a spanking… Not because I have done anything bad and have earned one. I just need the sensations and emotions and the feeling of release I get from a spanking. I want the blushy embarrassment that comes from being stripped down and exposed, the butterflies that spring to life in my belly when I have that moment of realization that no negotiation, argument, pout or puppy dog eyes is going to prevent my bottom being promptly reddened. I need that feeling of helplessness and exposure as I am pulled over Daddy’s knee, on the edge of imbalance, knowing tthe strength of Daddy’s hand is keeping me in place. My head down limiting my vision of what is going on behind me, but knowing that I am showing Daddy everything as I wiggle and shiver with fearful anticipation. I need the worry in my mind as I try to remember the sting, over time have I embellished the sensation in my mind? Or have I blunted the pain in my memories, focusing on the other sensations of previous scenes. I need that sudden spark of rebellion that rises up in those moments before the first stroke, that has me quietly deciding to fight the correction as it is unjust as I am a big girl who does not need guidance. Finally I need that burning sting of the first stroke of Daddy’s hand, that sends bolts of electricity through my entire body, that stroke quickly followed by another and another. The build of it all, the heat, the sting, the sensation, my cries, my struggles. I want that moment when my control is completely removed. I am held tight on Daddy’s lap, unable to stop or avoid the rain of swats, unable to come up with the words to stop his purpose, unable to control my limbs as they move and flail and kick with no instruction given, instinct taken over. I need the moment of relief when the spanking pauses. The gratitude of the reprieve, then the renewed anxiety as I realize that was just the warm up, that I will soon feel the implement of Daddy’s choice. The moment of panic as I take stock of my burning bottom, can I really take more? surely I’ll break? I need the feeling of connection as Daddy, encourages me. Despite the fact I am upended over his lap at his mercy and he is completely in control I feel closer to him when he calls me a good girl, tells me I am taking it well, assuring me it is almost over. I need the feel of the implement, be it the deep thuddy crack of the paddle, the burn of the hairbrush, the firey lines of the cane, or the stingy bite of the switch. I need the intensity. I need the feeling of my final defences being stripped away, the moment I realize I do not decide when it stops, the moment I accept and embrace the pain, the moment of release. I do so want Daddy’s strong arms wrapping around me, that immediate feeling of comfort once he has recognized and accepted my surrender. His murmured words of assurance, his quiet patience as I pour out my emotions on his shoulder. I need the calmness that settles over me as he rocks me gently. I even need the feeling of my bottom. Properly reddened, thoroughly spanked. Throbbing and so hot I am sure it could fry an eggs, the blush on my face as I feel my hands reach back to feel the damage. The raised welts giving it an almost bumpy and rough texture, the warmth at this point almost comforting. I need the knowing that once I am alone, I will examine my bottom in the mirror, completely fascinated by the marks of Daddy’s correction left behind. I will look at my bottom and be proud I endured it, I will feel beautiful.

I NEED A SPANKING.

Happy Thanksgiving!

  
Well Thanksgiving has hit my corner if the world!  So much to be thankful for.  Close family, great friends and a Daddy to take care of my kinky needs.  So I want to pass on well wishes to all of my wordpress followers be it your Thanksgiving or not.  I am thankful for you as well! Now bring on the Turkey!

   
 

Duty and Right

Ugh, I live in Canada,  lot’s of things to love about it, but one of the times when I wish I were still 5 years old and my biggest concern was which stuffed animal to bring with me on a sleepover is voting season.  

I vote.  It’s my right and duty.  The past few years I have even made a real effort to make an informed decision.  But I hate the whole campaign season.  The smear campaigns, the way it seems to creep into every conversation and Facebook seems to have amplified the whole thing.  I am counting the days until the whole thing is over.  I did see this pic though and it was the first time I smiled over anything even remotely political.