I, like many others, struggle with my weight.
It’s taken me a very long time to be able to look in the mirror and think the person looking back is beautiful. It started when I was much, much younger with a mother built completely different than me. She used to get me kids jeans three sizes too small and would tell me I couldn’t wear jeans until I fit into those. I went to a nutritionist for the first time when I was eight years old, started doing Weight Watchers for the first time when I was ten (complete with the meetings), and at this point have it so engrained in my head that I automatically calculate the points of food, and have never seen the single digit side of clothing sizes. I’ve come damn close. At my “skinniest” I was a size 10, and I was fabulous.
I was also bulimic, so that helps, though I am trying to get there again the healthy way. I haven’t slipped with my binging and purging in a whole year. I’ve been more active (though I’ve been far too lazy today and need to go take my walk after I write this..), eating much better food, and slowly watching the scale go down, pound by pound, week by week.
The number still bothers me..but it’s bothering me a little less. I don’t like seeing a 2 in front of my weight. EVER. I’m small, all of 4 ft 11, and I am damn curvy. I am blessed and cursed with a body that hides my weight extremely well..blessed because if I told someone I weight 206.4 as of last weekend they would gawk at me in shock.. cursed because it’s not those annoying five pounds that sneak up on me. It’s those annoying twenty pounds…
I do think I need to lose weight. My goal over time is to get to 150 (at my thinnest I was in the 170s). I don’t think I’m gigantic. I know I’m sexy. I know I look good in a corset and thong, and I know what lingerie makes me look fantastic.
I am confident around Kane, more so than any other man I’ve been with. I know he doesn’t see flaws when he looks at me. I know his perception of beauty is different than most. I know he thinks I’m beautiful.
But I want to curl up in a ball and hide every single time he asks me to get on top.
I’ve NEVER liked the position. Ever. Because I become twenty times more self conscious about my size. I notice my tummy, my thighs; everywhere that I hold weight. I get self conscious about how I’m moving or if I’m keeping a proper pace… or if I look like this slow, sluggish beached wale impaled on top of a man. No one has ever called me that, mind you, and those that have gotten me on top have appreciated it…but my little warped mind sees this disfigured creature in place of myself.
I’ve enjoyed it twice that I can remember, and only twice. Once was with Jason, one night where I actually topped HIM while we were still dating. For some reason it turned both of us on… He was also on his sofas sitting and for some reason that position made me more comfortable than in bed.
It’s the only position that’s a mind fuck for me. Turn me upside down, sideways, lift my legs, spin me around..it doesn’t matter. Ask me to get on top, cowgirl or reverse, and I freeze. Any sexy I have just shrivels and I become this scared little girl… AUGH.
It’s frustrating, because I know it’s one thing Kane very much enjoys. He took me to task about it last night before some very intense (in a very GOOD way) sex, listening to my fears about the position before responding. As far as rhythm and movement, he reminded me that he would be dictating how I moved and how quickly those movements were carried out…and as usually, he assured me about my figure. He likes the position because he gets access to all the parts of myself I want to hide.. my waist, my thighs (he is the only man in the history of EVER to like my legs, which I think are stubby). He loves that it gives him open access to my breasts and free hands… a dangerous combination in all the right was.
Kane isn’t small. My beloved Sir is a sizable man who has picked me up with little effort and tossed me onto the bed before. Logically, I know I won’t squish him. I’m not too big for him to handle. So why does my mind still flinch at the idea when he’s attempted to ease my worries one by one? What is it that his words can’t get through to ease my worries?
Looks like I have some mental picking apart to do… case I wanna ride with the best of ’em, dammit!
Yours frustrated.. and not looking forward to the self-imposed psychological evaluation.