December 2, 2001

        And i wonder why i get age-obsessed sometimes?  i borrowed a magazine from j (we spent the night at her place but more on that later) and i browsed through it on the way home at noon.  Lots of recipes and advice columns - and a gazillion wrinkle removing ads!  Seriously.  "Doctors" advocating the use of injectionables under the skin to smooth them out ... lotions and potions for fine line reductions - even pills for 'that youthful look'.  Like, what the heck?

     One couldn't help getting the feeling that to age is just bad, bad, bad.  Okay i'll concede it's kind of nasty and not a lot of fun.  Who can really like the idea that not only do your years left  to spend on this earth dwindle down in numbers, but you get to spend those years with grey hair and wrinkles and less teeth and general body deterioration which results in everything aching, and what does ache, your eyes won't let you see very well.  (Heh, maybe that's a blessing.)  

     So here's this magazine that says it's okay to be schizophrenic - it's okay to eat all these recipes, but heaven help you if you age and expect to function in this society.  That's crazy!  According to the articles in this month's issue, the message is loud and clear that the ideal is to be a stuffed squash cooking schizophrenic 60 year with the skin of a baby.  

     Baffling.

     i think the only real cure is to ban mirrors.  

     So Himself and i made it to the play party.  And i'm really, really glad we went.  It was good to get out, spend some time with friends and inhale the essence of all that a fet night is.  And bonus!  Smokers respectfully went outside so for the first time in a very long time, we were not bogged down by itchy eyes and stuffy nasal passages that usually go hand in hand with large crowds in smoking environments.  (yes i still love all my friends who smoke!)

     Getting ready was a bit stressful.  i had a few ideas in my mind of what might look okay and figured i would ask the big guy for final approval.  So i put an outfit on - wasn't sure of it - asked Him, and He nixed it.  Okay.  On to the next outfit.  He didn't like it.  And the next.  Nope, He didn't like it.  This was after we'd already established the fact that my waist cincher wasn't going to cut it in the comfort zone for a long car ride and evening of wear.  (Yes this has a lot to do with the displacement of fat on my body lately)

     Finally He got me into the corselet which we both agrees ties up funny, my pleather dress (which i do like a lot in spite of the fact that it's a tad snug across the hips - do we see where this is going yet?) and a blousy type thing over top.  Yep, i was caught in the deep bog of negative body image.  i was trying to be good about not mentioning it though.  i doubt i fooled Him.

     At least i didn't angst about my hair.  For once i actually thought it looked okay.

     So off we go, stopping at j and E's house first, where we intended to return to later, to spend the night.  'Course j looks like dynamite with the big hair look and mini dress paired with tall, spiked heels.  i'm thinking a few ultra short things might boost my fet moral.  After all, we're supposed to look like the wenches we are at these events. Aren't we?

     A glass of wine at their house and then the four of us climb into their car and we're off again.  We arrived at the party to find many attendees doing the shmoozing thing - like a cocktail party where everyone stands around being elegant and sipping wine and eating little bites of sweetness.  Same deal, except that most were wearing either corsets or leather or ... nothing at all. 

     Y'know, i like to think i'm not a prude, but there's just something about hugging a woman whom i only know as an acquaintance, who's buck naked ... that i just can't do.  i could hug j without or without her clothes, but she's different.  she's the one who shares deep dark secrets with me  (well they aren't really dark but that sounded good) and i guess the level of familiarity is just a lot closer.  More comfortable.  

     But anyway, there was much visiting and catching up done and eventually people drifted off to various pieces of equipment to do a bit of playing.  i wasn't sure if Himself was going to play or not - i hadn't been near Him for a bit so didn't know if His comfort zone was getting there or not.  i'd had another glass of wine, so i was definitely loosening up.  

     i came out from the kitchen at one point, to find Him showing a femme domme His knife, and nothing to do but He's grabbing me and giving a small demonstration.  Which resulted in me dropping immediately.  He seized the opportunity and i found myself being tugged along to the post with the hooks on it.  (Hard to describe that post - but i really liked it.)

    Next thing i know off comes the dress and i'm tied to the post and He's got the toys out.  No soft and sensual work up this time either.  Yikes!  i knew where He was headed and i didn't think i could get there.  But i did. my mind floated away into a place that just begged for more, and it wasn't long before i heard my voice asking for harder.  Demanding it, barely remembering to say please.  We were both worked up to a level of intensity that we haven't indulged in a very long time, and the more my spirit said 'oh yeah?' the more determined He became.  

     At the height of the scene He grabbed me up against His body and i said 'fuck you ...' and He kissed me hard.  i melted.  

     This morning j said she loved the way my face looked.  That it was like the harder the scene went the more calm i looked.  And i think i recognize what she means, because it always feels like the demons are being forced out of me.  

     And now i've got a butt sprinkled with tiny bruises and i'm still feeling floaty and i just want to be told to kneel or something.  Perfect.

                

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