Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Taunting gravity

So I got that spanking a few hours after my last post. It was a lovely over the knee, good-girl sort of spanking with A.'s hand. Just the perfect getting reacquainted kind of spanking.

However there have been a few kinks in our spanking play since then, despite both of us being eager to try out our new wooden-slatted futon-cum-spanking bench. There's been a family issue. And A.'s jet lag. And my shoulder getting really cranky. And then there was last Wednesday.

Once a week my massage therapist/acupuncturist massages and needles away my pain and makes my life just a little bit better. The only drawback is that her office is up a long flight of 23 hard wooden stairs. So every week I slowly make my way up the stairs with little rest breaks along the way and carefully make my way down after my session.

Except I wasn't very careful last Wednesday. I quite foolishly decided to attempt going down the stairs with my bum right knee, a cast boot on my left foot, a plastic bag of groceries and my cane in my right hand while holding onto the railing in my left hand. It only took one step for me to completely lose my balance and fall head first down each and every one of those 23 hard wooden stairs.

As I was falling -- you know, after the obligatory SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! -- I remember being amazed at what was happening to me. I mean, I never fall down head first. In all my years of bad balance, I've learned to fall backwards onto my butt or against the wall. I also remember thinking while I fell that I had to finally stop falling at some point. And eventually I did. I landed flat on my back on the concrete floor next to the door.

A woman in the shop next door heard me fall, came over and ordered me not to move. My massage therapist came down and (I think she was the one) called the ambulance. Someone got my mother sitting out in the car waiting for me. "Why hasn't the ambulance gotten here?" she demanded and was answered a moment later by the paramedics arriving.

There was a lot of concern about internal bleeding because I'm on Coumadin, but after being examined by a zillion nurses and doctors and various radiological equipment in one of those blindingly bright trauma rooms in the ER, I had only sustained a cracked nose (with a tiny bit of bruising under my right eye), a dislocated/broken left index finger (it makes typing LOADS o' fun!), and lingering vertigo (also great fun on the computer). And, of course, lots of beautiful bruises. Oh and a large scrape under my nose that A. says makes me look like Hitler (though it's close to gone thanks to Neosporin). I totally look like I've been fighting with the bruises on the knuckles of both hands and the broken nose. Or like a domestic violence victim (yes, we've been having fun joking about A. slapping me around -- not that domestic violence is anything to joke about!)

Everyone from the doctors to my family were amazed. A. figures I used up one of my nine lives (I think that makes four left). We can't decide if I was unlucky because I fell or lucky because the damage was so minor. I mean, I wasn't even that sore the next day like I expected to be. Though the vertigo has kept me from moving much -- both because moving aggravates it and because the medicine to treat it makes me very sleepy.

In some ways, the fall has actually been a good thing. It's been a reminder that I'm not as fragile as I sometimes feel. I've also stopped getting that sharp, icky feeling in my sternum that I had been getting lately when I thought of pain (a good thing for my spanking mojo!). And it seems to have actually relieved some of the chronic pain in my tailbone so that I've been able to lay on my back for the first time in awhile. It's all so very yin and yang, ya know?

And to top it all off, my neck and shoulder, which my massage therapist spent a lot of time working on during my session, felt great the next day. Now that's a good session!

I have some funny, kinky moments that A. and I had in the ER to share with you, dear reader, but I'll leave that for a later post.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

I'm gonna get spanked...

...in about two hours (stupid late flight). Well, if he's up to it after flying for nineteen hours or so.

I'm a little tired too at the moment. I've been working on all kinds of things to prepare for A.'s arrival -- a few kinky things included -- and I'm starting to wear down a bit. But I've actually had energy to do some things before A. comes. That's right. No blood clots in my lungs. No fickle spanking mojo. No stubborn UTIs. This time just lots of pent up kinky energy and a tingly bottom (and other parts) hungry for attention. Finally.

Yes, I know it won't last forever. And I have to be careful not to exert myself. Indeed last night A. was reminding me of this. He didn't order or threaten. Just pleaded fervently with me to be careful and please, please not overdo it.

Well, okay, I probably overdid it just a little bit. But not enough to seriously set me back. Though maybe just enough to get spanked for it.

::grin::

Saturday, November 10, 2007

Coming out

A few months ago my best friend T. and I were talking about the process we each went through in discovering our core sexuality (homosexuality for him, spanking for me). At one point we began comparing when this exploration took place and he suddenly exclaimed, "oh wow -- you came out the same time I did!"

I had never really thought of my spanko discernment as "coming out" but as I thought about it some more, there were certainly a lot of parallels to the experience gay people have in processing their sexual orientation. Though to be fair, some of my experience also reflected a combination of situations specific to me. But hey, isn't that the way it is for everybody?

I never really dated growing up. As I considered why this was, my first thought was that I was a very devout Evangelical and very adamant about saving myself for marriage. In addition, I was generally too busy with raising my siblings and church activities and school to have much time for it. And besides, I was fat and guys weren't really all that into me.

Yet I knew plenty of other Evangelicals who were just as adamant as I was about sexual abstinence and somehow they managed to date (though I don't doubt that some of them eventually abandoned their refusal to fornicate). Likewise my sister -- the next one down from me who was supposed to help out with babysitting -- also dated (it helped that she started working fast-food when she was 15 and therefore was out of the house a lot more than I was). And though I was fat, there were guys who were into me. It's just that I wasn't really all that into them.

That lack of connection really is what kept me from dating. Like most teenagers, I certainly fantasized about having a boyfriend and doing all those things girlfriends and boyfriends do (with the exception of sex), but that cultural expectation wasn't enough for me to date guys who were very sweet yet lacked that certain something I wasn't even aware yet I wanted.

And, of course, I fantasized a lot about getting spanked. Mostly by a stern but loving father-figure. Which caused me a great deal of angst because I didn't want to marry a guy in order to obtain the father I didn't grow up with. I wanted to be my future husband's partner. I mean, who wants to be married to someone who is a perpetual child? What sort of intellectual and emotional communion can exist in such a relationship?

Eventually Google came along and I found that I could have both: a loving disciplinarian and a partner. I remember those heady early days of exploring my spanking kink. Meeting all sorts of guys to spank me. Suddenly dating was easy. I finally had my first kiss -- at 27 from the first spanko guy I dated. Before I knew it, I was spanking around. I was a spanking slut, even if there was no sex involved.

Yet I worried what my friends might think. It felt weird hiding a whole part of my life -- and an increasingly important one at that -- from my friends and family. Indeed at one point T. complained that I was withdrawing from him, and he was right. I was so afraid I would accidentally spill the beans about my alternative life and I knew he would be horrified to know I was meeting guys off the Internet to spank me.

T. and I are very close. He was actually my sponsor when I converted to Catholicism and in the Byzantine rite I'd chosen, that made him my godfather. My priest even had to make sure that we wouldn't end up married down the line as it would be "awkward." My soon-to-be godfather hadn't come out yet, but like many fag hag relationships, we'd already explored the possibility of marriage and assured my priest there would be no potential bishopic dispensation needed. Looking back I know I was attracted to T. because he's such a natural disciplinarian. But like him, I hadn't come to terms with my own sexuality enough at the time to know the sort of verbal discipline he was so good at was not at all what I wanted. We did know, though, that there wasn't any chemistry even if we didn't know why yet.

In many ways I think the act of delurking on soc.sexuality.spanking five years ago really was a form of coming out, complete with coming out narrative, as it is for so many people introducing themselves in online forums. And the relief and euphoria that accompany finding other people like you probably is similar in some ways to the excitement T. felt when he first started dating and fucking guys, even if it lacks the pain and profound lifestyle change being gay was for my Arab-Catholic godfather.

It's funny but that above linked post, my spanking memoir, is invariably among the most popular pages -- if not the most popular post -- on this blog each day. This post, I suppose, is now a sort of adjunct to it, made possible by five and a half years of hindsight with which to analyze a bit deeper some of the issues I didn't understand quite yet then. Obviously, it was written before I met A. And I've also clearly decided against saving my hymen for a future husband. But then, how I came to that decision and my thoughts on marriage as an institution would be far more appropriate for an entirely different post. Probably on my non-kink blog.

Saturday, November 03, 2007

The naughtiest of one all

Sorry to be so quiet this week. Apparently, Vitamin B complex makes me very very sleepy, and I've practically slept the week away.

But yesterday during my INR check, sans the Vitamin B, I wasn't quite so sleepy. When it was super high (4.8), I grinned mischievously at my nurse.

"Uh oh. I guess that makes me naughty," I said. To be fair, it wasn't really my fault but the fault of the antibiotic from the week before that interacted with the Coumadin.

"Yes, now I have to consult with the doctor," Nurse K. replied with mock annoyance.

Now, don't go getting all pervy on me, dear reader. She just meant that she couldn't instruct me on my Coumadin dosage herself because it was in the "panic" range. Really. The computer even highlights it in yellow and says "panic." Though, it's not really "panic" in the ER-get-me-a-shot-of-whatever-stat! way. More like the make-extra-sure-not-to-blow-this-off sort of panic.

At any rate, she couldn't remember what the exact number my INR was so she checked the little machine that sips my blood to see how quickly or slowly my blood is clotting (actually it's a lot like a big glucose meter). After she found it, she started pressing the button several more times.

"Hey, wanna see what everyone else's INR has been today?" She asked. Don't worry, it didn't show who any of those patients were so there was no breech of confidentiality or anything.

3.1...1.7...3.3...3.1...1.9...1.6...4.2

"Wow, so nobody's been therapeutic today," I exclaimed. (Therapeutic is generally between 2.0-3.0, though for some patients it can be between 2.5-3.5.)

"Yes, but yours has been the highest."

"Oh. So I suppose that means I'm the naughtiest one of all."

"Yes, Michelle. You're very, very naughty," Nurse K. said with mock sterness.

Right as she was telling me how naughty I was, one of the other nurses walked by the room.

"Ohhh, now I'm probably going to get in trouble for calling a patient naughty," she fretted.

Which, I suppose, would make me even naughtier for getting my nurse in trouble for having to tell me how naughty I am.

Though any forthcoming spanking for my naughtiness will just have to wait until my INR is lower.

I think the 10 days until A. gets here should be plenty of time. ::grin::