A comment, ok more like a stern talking to, from Confessions of A Submission Slut (love her blog, by the way!) has had me thinking for a couple of days. She reminded me that even without a D, I’m a submissive no matter what. And, if I believe as I do that there’s a chance in the future – or that I’m at least willing to wait to find out – then I shouldn’t let myself forget I’m always in service.
What does it mean to be in service? For me, that means trying to be his good girl – even if he could care less right now. I know he’d be disappointed in me if I didn’t stay strong, stop emotionally eating, deal with my feelings in a healthy manner, and above all, stop worrying so much.
To be fair, some of my angst has had little to do with him (or the lack thereof). Work has stressed me out more than normal. I’m playing a waiting game about my interview from a couple of weeks ago. My children are…children. It’s been a lot at once, and without any reassurance from him (which I’m not entitled to), it’s hard.
I begin to question myself. Did I make this up in my head? Am I in such deep denial that I can’t see the reality? Did he ever love me in the first place?
Well, now that last question is just fucking ridiculous. Which tells me the rest probably is, too. It’s just another sign of me doubting everything because I’ve always needed constant reassurance.
Where’s that girl who was filled with patience and serenity? I need to get back to her.
And that girl just wants to be a good girl and make him proud. I know that means I need to take care of myself. It means I need to focus on improving my life – on my own. I need to stop dwelling. I need to stop over-thinking. I need to stop focusing on my negative feelings and find the silver lining again.
The emotional eating has to stop. The workouts need to kick my butt. I look good all hot and sweaty. See?
I know my ass looks good. It’s higher and firmer than several weeks ago (thank you Jillian Michaels!). I have very feminine hands and my ass fits perfectly. I can only imagine how they fit in a man’s hands. Mmmm, that’s a nice thought actually. Maybe something like this?
At the end of the day, I want him to be proud of me. I want to be proud of me. I want to be that girl that catches men surreptitiously staring and gets a thrill out of it. I want to be that girl who laughs and finds the bright side of everything. If that means changing my thinking and remembering I’m always in service to him, then so be it.