Big Girls

It’s time to call a spade, a spade. I’ve been pretty itchy, scratchy lately. I could go into all the meanderings of my mind, but it can get a little foggy in there sometimes. Instead, I’ve come to talk to you.

And, here’s the thing. I am fit now; physically fit, that is. I never thought I would say this, but I am fit. I’ve got a lot of energy to use up and I am having trouble. All those leg ups, all those sprints, all those abdominal crunches, and pounding that bar above my head has paid off, and I’m fit.

That should be good news. Right? Well, it is good for my body, but it is maybe not so good for my poor husband and kinky friends placed around the world, who have been dealing with my overactive mind lately. And, it isn’t that you chaps weren’t fantastic listeners, because you are the best listeners a girl could find.

But, a girl has to accept the reality of her situation. I have a lot of energy and I need to set myself some projects and dissipate some of this excess energy. That’s the bottom line. I need to do.

“I think I’ll go and write a post,” I said to my husband just now, trying to catch a few extra winks on a Sunday morning.

“That’s a good idea,” he said. “You go post.”

I could just tell he was happy to be rid of me. A girl with excess energy can be rather inconvenient sometimes, it seems.

So, I’ve made a list of things I can achieve; things to do that will keep me busy and hopefully fulfil me.

“Thank God”, I hear you lovely chaps saying.

Yes, thank something. Indeed.

So, I’m back to being chirpy. No more introspection; for now. (Are you proud of me, Clemmi?) I am firmly planted in the land of projects.

I am woman. See me create.

You see, I love my little submissive world. It is so cosy; warm and delicious. It is lovely being a good, little girl. It’s heaven.

But, who am I kidding? I am really a big girl now. The age on my birth certificate is evidence that I reached maturity some time ago.

So, I can’t hang around waiting for others to make me do things. I have to make myself peddle my own bike faster when they are too busy to hang around me, holding the stopwatch. If I don’t do it right, I think I can rely on them to call in.

So, I’m off. I’m peddling fast. I can feel the wind at my face. It’s invigorating. I think I like this...