Although my husband is the boss of me (I'm smiling thinking of kids saying to someone that tells them what to do, "you're not the best of me!!") he and I, like so many married couples, don't partake in any sort of highly structured disciplinary relationship. We've been there, and it was incredibly hot and sexy, but I think he decided that for people living their entire adult lives together we could only take it so far. He's long held the view that there is an independent streak within me and he doesn't want to mess with it.
I think as well that a formal disciplinary aspect to the relationship goes against the natural flow of 'us' and what he feels comfortable doing and desires doing. He is fully engaged with his business life. I think for him it sounds like more work. I'm not exactly sure. I only know that whilst he enjoys his status on the top of the pile, isn't shy about letting me know when he's not happy with what I do or say, and does occasionally enjoy 'correcting' me with an implement in a semi-serious way, he's not into discipline with me, if that makes sense.
As long as there is no skin off his nose, and as long as he feels he is getting the attention, love and devotion that he deserves he's not against me engaging in a friendship conducted safely and respectfully, in a non-threatening way, where it is understood that I'm the 'student' and the other person is the 'teacher', with all the sense of authority that the word 'teacher' entails. Teachers, do sometimes, alas, find themselves in a situation where they must punish.
A few years ago a few extra kilos crept on my body in a menopausal way, out of the blue. I didn't care for it and kidded myself that I was doing something about it. I lost a few kilos and settled into a groove where the last four kilos to lose would eventually make their way off my body, somehow. I'd invariably start the day talking to myself, 'This weight has to come off!' only to find myself doing the same bad things, grabbing a piece of chocolate with my tea at night or a cookie with my coffee when I visited the Market, that sort of thing that isn't all that bad but that really doesn't allow for weight loss.
About a month ago now, I mentioned to my 'teacher' that today I was starting a new regimen of eating because I wanted to lose weight. He asked how much I wanted to lose and I said '4 kilos' which is about 10 pounds. I truly didn't expect him to bite at this. He never has before in any real way and I was surprised when he said that he could help me with this. It was a lovely favour I thought and I was pleased, very pleased; grateful.
We began the business of me sending a daily food journal and he made corrections, all sensible and necessary. I needed to include some protein with my meals, so, for example, I could have some almonds with my oatmeal in the morning. He banned cake more or less for good. Well, he said 'a month' but do I think that next month I can have cake? No. This has worked wonderfully well. I absolutely never look at, drool over or consider eating cake now. It's banned. My submissive mind gets that word.
He made other sensible suggestions - I don't eat the yolk of eggs at the moment and I do drink considerably more water, try to incorporate more fruit, vegetables and beans into my diet.
At first I was going about my usual habits, having a treat after dinner. Of course, that's not going to work when you need to limit calories and I was told rather quickly that I could have 2 sweet things a week. This was my 'sweets allowance'. More corrections were made - the size of a 'sweet' established as being minuscule in comparison to what I thought of as a reasonable portion. One punishment was meted out and I imagine he hoped that that would be the end of the matter and I'd fall into line.
However, as much as I knew the rules I was also dealing with a sugar withdrawal. I still, on some days, yearned for a lolly (piece of candy) or a piece of dark chocolate. One week I gobbled up my two sweets in less than a minute and that's not good. I was honest about this and he called it 'brave'. I had another week to go before I could eat something sugary, he reminded me.
However, one day I was at the supermarket and impulsively, like a naughty little schoolgirl, I snatched a bag of hard lollies from the shelf and chucked them into my shopping basket. Back home, they whispered to me, 'Just one. One can't hurt' and I had one and that led to two. When I was a school girl my mother sometimes would have waiting for me after school a fresh batch of cupcakes newly iced and I'd have one and then another. 'I'll stop at four, I'd say in my weakest moments. Definitely no more than four!' This is what happened to me with that evil bag of lollies. I ate four.
As I was writing up my food journal I was aware of last week's consequence; not that it was all that terrible but I had very recently been in trouble and didn't want to be in trouble again. If I said 'two', and as I understood the rules then, that would be 1 sweet treat. I already had used up the other one, the week was still ahead of me with no more treats, but I wouldn't be in trouble. If I wrote that I had eaten 4, I knew I'd be in lots of trouble. I wrote that I had eaten 2 of the blasted things, still acting like that schoolgirl who avoids being trouble at all costs.
No sooner had I sent off the email than I got an 'oh deeeeer' email back, which sounds tame but isn't in reality. Apparently, 1 hard piece of candy (it's less than an inch long and half an inch in diameter wrapped in its own little package) equalled one treat. Hence, I'd gone over my sweet rations again. It would be dealt with 'later' he said.
With time to think about this the guilt set in and the next time we chatted I fessed up. I honestly think (well, I know) that I expected to be let away with this. I was being coy, cute. Didn't you let sweet coy, cute little girls away with things? It was a few lollies, no big deal.
I was very, very mistaken. Not only had I gone over the limit two weeks in a row but I'd lied to him about it. I started to get that sick feeling in my stomach when I have to wait to read what he thinks about it all and I tried to defend and explain myself.
'Keep digging...' came his reply. I suddenly remembered what my husband had told me. 'When you are in a hole, stop digging', but it was much too late.
He didn't yell or scream. Well, you can't actually yell or scream in chat but you can metaphorically and he didn't do that. It was more along the lines of a teacher being very, very disappointed in you. Then, he issued the punishment.
In some ways people don't change or not without a lot of effort, and I hadn't changed in my feelings about being truly punished. I hate to do the wrong thing really and I hate punishment for that reason. I had brought this on myself, had nobody to blame but myself, had given him no choice, but it still felt vile.
For several days I was on my own. I had to make my own choices. There wasn't a minute of that time that I didn't feel punished, sometimes assuring myself that I had earned it and had to suck it up, sometimes feeling hardly done by. It was hard on me, as it was meant to be. There were a few other complicating factors going on over that period of time that pushed me around too, but let's keep this simple.
When we talked again I was tentative. Perhaps it is not unlike a person within a power exchange who gets a good hiding as a punishment and the time period after that is awkward as one repairs one's dignity, as one truly takes in that one person is the authority figure and one person has the right to, and will if necessary, discipline the other.
'Did I enjoy my time away from him?' he wanted to know. This was like a red rag to a bull, I thought. Part of me wanted to laugh but the other part that was taking myself seriously wasn't ready to take it lightly. There was a comment about my being on 'pins and needles' and whilst it was absolutely true, I didn't want to admit that the punishment had got under my skin.
There was a discussion about him being 'sooooo strict' and then that followed with a back and forth as to whether he was 'tooo strict'. I refused to answer, unlike me. I know better. He insisted I did, I continued to play for time, until I'd got his back up. 'Time's up' he typed and left. Now I was really mad! I sent an email which pretty clearly showed that I had unresolved issues.
The next day we chatted. He asked me a question and then immediately typed 'Don't answer that' and then 'Here's the situation'. He typed out that I had disoebyed the rules, lied, made serious errors of judgment and that I got punished for it. What possible issue could I have? I offered that he had made fun of me. 'Mountain meet mole hill' he typed, and he was right. Whilst he had the good grace not to say it, I was having a problem taking my well deserved punishment. I simply wasn't used to being told that I couldn't do something and having disobeyed and lied, punished. I see this all very clearly now. I had to take that final step of accepting that I wasn't in control, that rules had been laid down and that failure to follow them and fibbing about any said lack of failure would incur swift retribution.
I haven't touched a lolly since. It seems sensible for me to treat them the same way I do cake. Instead, twice a week, at say, three day intervals, I'll allow myself one block of 70+ dark chocolate as a treat. That's it. He's quite right. Nothing was going to happen weight loss wise until I rid myself of that sweet tooth and listened to him. The end justifies the means. The only desired outcome: compliance. I respect that. I am learning.
I think as well that a formal disciplinary aspect to the relationship goes against the natural flow of 'us' and what he feels comfortable doing and desires doing. He is fully engaged with his business life. I think for him it sounds like more work. I'm not exactly sure. I only know that whilst he enjoys his status on the top of the pile, isn't shy about letting me know when he's not happy with what I do or say, and does occasionally enjoy 'correcting' me with an implement in a semi-serious way, he's not into discipline with me, if that makes sense.
As long as there is no skin off his nose, and as long as he feels he is getting the attention, love and devotion that he deserves he's not against me engaging in a friendship conducted safely and respectfully, in a non-threatening way, where it is understood that I'm the 'student' and the other person is the 'teacher', with all the sense of authority that the word 'teacher' entails. Teachers, do sometimes, alas, find themselves in a situation where they must punish.
A few years ago a few extra kilos crept on my body in a menopausal way, out of the blue. I didn't care for it and kidded myself that I was doing something about it. I lost a few kilos and settled into a groove where the last four kilos to lose would eventually make their way off my body, somehow. I'd invariably start the day talking to myself, 'This weight has to come off!' only to find myself doing the same bad things, grabbing a piece of chocolate with my tea at night or a cookie with my coffee when I visited the Market, that sort of thing that isn't all that bad but that really doesn't allow for weight loss.
About a month ago now, I mentioned to my 'teacher' that today I was starting a new regimen of eating because I wanted to lose weight. He asked how much I wanted to lose and I said '4 kilos' which is about 10 pounds. I truly didn't expect him to bite at this. He never has before in any real way and I was surprised when he said that he could help me with this. It was a lovely favour I thought and I was pleased, very pleased; grateful.
We began the business of me sending a daily food journal and he made corrections, all sensible and necessary. I needed to include some protein with my meals, so, for example, I could have some almonds with my oatmeal in the morning. He banned cake more or less for good. Well, he said 'a month' but do I think that next month I can have cake? No. This has worked wonderfully well. I absolutely never look at, drool over or consider eating cake now. It's banned. My submissive mind gets that word.
He made other sensible suggestions - I don't eat the yolk of eggs at the moment and I do drink considerably more water, try to incorporate more fruit, vegetables and beans into my diet.
At first I was going about my usual habits, having a treat after dinner. Of course, that's not going to work when you need to limit calories and I was told rather quickly that I could have 2 sweet things a week. This was my 'sweets allowance'. More corrections were made - the size of a 'sweet' established as being minuscule in comparison to what I thought of as a reasonable portion. One punishment was meted out and I imagine he hoped that that would be the end of the matter and I'd fall into line.
However, as much as I knew the rules I was also dealing with a sugar withdrawal. I still, on some days, yearned for a lolly (piece of candy) or a piece of dark chocolate. One week I gobbled up my two sweets in less than a minute and that's not good. I was honest about this and he called it 'brave'. I had another week to go before I could eat something sugary, he reminded me.
However, one day I was at the supermarket and impulsively, like a naughty little schoolgirl, I snatched a bag of hard lollies from the shelf and chucked them into my shopping basket. Back home, they whispered to me, 'Just one. One can't hurt' and I had one and that led to two. When I was a school girl my mother sometimes would have waiting for me after school a fresh batch of cupcakes newly iced and I'd have one and then another. 'I'll stop at four, I'd say in my weakest moments. Definitely no more than four!' This is what happened to me with that evil bag of lollies. I ate four.
As I was writing up my food journal I was aware of last week's consequence; not that it was all that terrible but I had very recently been in trouble and didn't want to be in trouble again. If I said 'two', and as I understood the rules then, that would be 1 sweet treat. I already had used up the other one, the week was still ahead of me with no more treats, but I wouldn't be in trouble. If I wrote that I had eaten 4, I knew I'd be in lots of trouble. I wrote that I had eaten 2 of the blasted things, still acting like that schoolgirl who avoids being trouble at all costs.
No sooner had I sent off the email than I got an 'oh deeeeer' email back, which sounds tame but isn't in reality. Apparently, 1 hard piece of candy (it's less than an inch long and half an inch in diameter wrapped in its own little package) equalled one treat. Hence, I'd gone over my sweet rations again. It would be dealt with 'later' he said.
With time to think about this the guilt set in and the next time we chatted I fessed up. I honestly think (well, I know) that I expected to be let away with this. I was being coy, cute. Didn't you let sweet coy, cute little girls away with things? It was a few lollies, no big deal.
I was very, very mistaken. Not only had I gone over the limit two weeks in a row but I'd lied to him about it. I started to get that sick feeling in my stomach when I have to wait to read what he thinks about it all and I tried to defend and explain myself.
'Keep digging...' came his reply. I suddenly remembered what my husband had told me. 'When you are in a hole, stop digging', but it was much too late.
He didn't yell or scream. Well, you can't actually yell or scream in chat but you can metaphorically and he didn't do that. It was more along the lines of a teacher being very, very disappointed in you. Then, he issued the punishment.
In some ways people don't change or not without a lot of effort, and I hadn't changed in my feelings about being truly punished. I hate to do the wrong thing really and I hate punishment for that reason. I had brought this on myself, had nobody to blame but myself, had given him no choice, but it still felt vile.
For several days I was on my own. I had to make my own choices. There wasn't a minute of that time that I didn't feel punished, sometimes assuring myself that I had earned it and had to suck it up, sometimes feeling hardly done by. It was hard on me, as it was meant to be. There were a few other complicating factors going on over that period of time that pushed me around too, but let's keep this simple.
When we talked again I was tentative. Perhaps it is not unlike a person within a power exchange who gets a good hiding as a punishment and the time period after that is awkward as one repairs one's dignity, as one truly takes in that one person is the authority figure and one person has the right to, and will if necessary, discipline the other.
'Did I enjoy my time away from him?' he wanted to know. This was like a red rag to a bull, I thought. Part of me wanted to laugh but the other part that was taking myself seriously wasn't ready to take it lightly. There was a comment about my being on 'pins and needles' and whilst it was absolutely true, I didn't want to admit that the punishment had got under my skin.
There was a discussion about him being 'sooooo strict' and then that followed with a back and forth as to whether he was 'tooo strict'. I refused to answer, unlike me. I know better. He insisted I did, I continued to play for time, until I'd got his back up. 'Time's up' he typed and left. Now I was really mad! I sent an email which pretty clearly showed that I had unresolved issues.
The next day we chatted. He asked me a question and then immediately typed 'Don't answer that' and then 'Here's the situation'. He typed out that I had disoebyed the rules, lied, made serious errors of judgment and that I got punished for it. What possible issue could I have? I offered that he had made fun of me. 'Mountain meet mole hill' he typed, and he was right. Whilst he had the good grace not to say it, I was having a problem taking my well deserved punishment. I simply wasn't used to being told that I couldn't do something and having disobeyed and lied, punished. I see this all very clearly now. I had to take that final step of accepting that I wasn't in control, that rules had been laid down and that failure to follow them and fibbing about any said lack of failure would incur swift retribution.
I haven't touched a lolly since. It seems sensible for me to treat them the same way I do cake. Instead, twice a week, at say, three day intervals, I'll allow myself one block of 70+ dark chocolate as a treat. That's it. He's quite right. Nothing was going to happen weight loss wise until I rid myself of that sweet tooth and listened to him. The end justifies the means. The only desired outcome: compliance. I respect that. I am learning.
I just found your blog the other day-hi!
ReplyDeleteI have found that the satisfaction of high quality treats lasts longer than the crazed sugar cravings. And dark chocolate is good for you. :)
Great blog, thanks for sharing!
Lady Aurora: I love seeing new people commenting on the journal. Yes, my husband is a big fan of the health benefits of dark chocolate. He sits each night with his tea having some, and he offers it to me, but I can only take him up on the offer occasionally now *winks*
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