Rough

Yesterday was really physically rough on me.  i woke up with my skin hurting, my body aches and soreness really strong.  i stayed in, thanked Sir Raven for the air conditioner, and worked on my chores.  i managed to get cleaned up, finally, just putting on clean pjs.  i pulled my hair up in a bun, put on chapstick and blush.

i got the main chores done, everything tidied, but not the time consuming dusting because i couldn’t really bend well.  i made tacos for dinner, which were really yummy.  Sir Raven noted that i wasn’t checking anything off of wunderlist, and i acknowledged that sometimes i’m just a little bitch.  i have no idea what gets into me.  i just can’t be bothered to check things off.

Last night, i was so thankful when she got up to pee because i was stranded on my playpen and needed her help to get me up so i could join her in bed.  That turned out to be a hot mess-the sleeping part, that is..  It was like trying to sleep with a toddler.  She kept bouncing around in the bed, throwing blankets and sheets off of both of us, flinging her arms out over and over and hitting me in the head and face.  i was all of the way up against the wall on my side to stop getting hit in the face, fell asleep that way, and apparently never moved.  Not good.  So stiff. So sore.

i need to get the laundry done today.  Tomorrow is the farmers market and pain management doctor, so i won’t have time to work on it then.  Ugh.

Speaking of the farmers market, Sir Raven said that when we were in the gift shop, and i was asking, “Is it time to go, Daddy?” a woman turned around, apparently to investigate if she has breasts.  Curiously, when i call her Sir Raven or Master, no boob check is going on. i wonder what that is about.  i asked if she was uncomfortable, but she assures me she is not.  We are safer in the gardens than pretty much any other place, and i pay attention to any feelings that someone is paying too much attention to us that could result in danger everywhere we go.

Sir Raven doesn’t like for me to call her sweet names (honey, baby, sugar) all of the time.  The only other things i call her besides names of affection are Daddy, Sir Raven, and Master.  You’d think me calling a female bodied person Sir would result in a boob check.  Nope.  Weird.

i notice pity stares, hate stares (often from teen girls, who are clearly put out that i’m comfortable in my own skin and don’t deserve to feel pretty), and anything that gives me the sense that danger is around.  Frankly, i am exhausted from always having to think about these things whilst heterosexual folks can just live and hug and kiss without ever having to think.  People who get to walk through life without visible disabilities are not treated to pity or questions or queries about how i am happy or why i work hard.

In general, Sir Raven and i don’t believe in drawing attention to ourselves or our dynamic.  There have been a few times she grabbed me in public.  If she has something to say, she says it.  We don’t think its cool to force your scene or kink onto others.  There has to be some leeway, though, to just live.  Frankly, none of her coworkers that knew me would be too surprised about our dynamic because we are who we are, regardless.  i’m not sitting at her feet in public, but that doesn’t mean that the main idea that i’m submissive and passive and want to please her is invisible.  We are comfortable, and that allows other people to be comfortable and accepting of the parts they organically understand.

Her former boss might be a little put out to discover that the necklace she so admired was actually a collar, but wouldn’t be too surprised otherwise.

On the tram at the Botanical Gardens, Sir Raven and i both noticed another Good Girl, because she was just full of that kind of energy while the woman next to her was griping non stop.  We noticed that she was an adult in a romper outfit, and it was the first time we saw it that the outfit didn’t seem contrived.  We agreed the same thing about my pigtails and my mary janes.  There is something authentic about me being in touch with my little girl, my Daddy’s good girl, kind of energy.  We both dislike when the energy is contrived, and comes off like an adult trying to mimic baby talk or something.  i can’t quite understand that really, in the sense that it is jarring to me.

i wish she was home right now, because i feel small and sick.  i really, really want to get the chores done and am hoping that taking another pill will help.  Right now, just sitting up hurts.  My tailbone is shooting pain and i’m miserable.  i need to get it together, though, because she will be home early today.  Yay.

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