LCL and Meniscus?

When BIKSS had his mad knee pains it was his MCL. 

According to my boss who very unceremoniously lifted my leg and propped it up on his thigh, mine's likely to be an inflammed LCL. 

He did the range of motions tests, having me turn my foot this way and that and then trying to bend my leg with the foot pointed in either direction... 

And then, he added, maybe my meniscus too. 

(Playing with his new portable ultrasound thingie)

Here's a quick diagram. That's the front of a right knee. The MCL is on the inside of the leg, the LCL is on the outside.

(from profadrianwilson.co.uk)

CLICK HERE for a quick (and basic) lesson on knee anatomy.

Here's another pic - 

(comportho.com)

Apparently, I will need to rest. NO walking. NO exercising. NO twisting this way and that. 

Me - How did this happen? And if you say lao liao (old age) I'll thwack you.

Doc - Then I won't say anything. 

Me - Sigh. Tell me how to fix it. It hurts. 

Doc - Nsaid yourself.

Me - But that upsets my tummy.

Doc - Kefentech! (Ketoprofen plaster)

Me - Which doesn't work on me remember? You said something about being a fast metaboliser. 

Doc - Oh right. Methyl salicylate? Counterpain? Wintergreen? But that smell makes you puke right? 

Me - Right. 

Doc - Oil. Any oil. Fish oil!

Me - What? Rub fish oil? 

Doc - Not rub. Eat.

Me - Eat fish oil? Like Omega 3?

Doc - Yup. Omega 3 helps with inflammation too. But check the dose. 

I did. 2.7g of combined DHA/ EPA a day - that's 9 of my mini gel capsules. I can do that.  I'm on it!

I also figured out that if I leave my leg unbent, it doesn't hurt as much as when I've had it bent (eg while sitting) and then trying to straighten it after. 

The summary is this : Straight all the way - no pain. Bent all the way - no pain. Straight to bent - small pain. Bent to straight - MEGA pain.

At dinner on Friday BIKSS got up to go and moved towards me to help me out of my chair. I turned to face him, and away from the table, but I kept on sitting, extending my leg. And waited.

"Hang on a tic," I said. I'm gonna need some time. 

"I know exactly what you're doing," he replied. He smiled, almost chuckling. But not at my misfortune.

"What then? Hmm?"

"You're doing exactly what I used to do - after the leg's been bent for some time you need to straighten it to let everything slowly get back into place before you can stand up and put weight on it. Innit?"

Well, ok, maybe he DID know what I was doing.

My mood pic today ~ 

I Had to Have Beer

Because things were moving very quickly at the end of last week. The mother decided that she needed full time help. This is good. When it's a decision SHE came to herself it also means there is less likelihood of her blaming the rest of us for forcing a huge lifestyle change on her. 

She also decided she wanted to speak to this one helper herself because she knows this lady who has helped her out before and she thinks she's a good worker. Which is even better, cos this means SHE is choosing the person that is going to be helping her at home and can't blame any of us for choosing a "lousy worker" if the helper messes up. 

As for paying for this help, she's asked me to work out the sums and give her a breakdown of all the subsidies and grants she and the father receive - and she's decided that she will pay for this live-in help out of the money she receives each month from the various agencies. Again, this is good because that will mean she feels she is in control and SHE can tell the helper what to do and what not to, and no one else can play tug-of-war with her over who's the boss. 

All this is very good news to me. 

But there is a bit of a time crunch cos the helper in question has to be placed with a new employer within 7 days. So you-know-who had to scramble. Got on the phone with the helper to confirm details, spoke to the current employer to find out a little more about the reason for transfer etc, contacted their agency to get a list of documents I needed to furnish them with to move forward on the application... 

Most of this took place on Friday last week so by 7 pm I was knackered. I took a nap for an hour then went to have dinner with BIKSS at a place by the beach which I had never eaten at before. As I got into the car I announced I needed a beer.

Just as we sat down I had to take another call, so I told him to order for us since he knows what I eat and what I don't, I figured it wouldn't be too difficult. And besides, I had already decided that I would just suck it up and eat whatever he ordered cos you know, I handed the decision making over to him.

Caesar and Calamari

Lava Cheese Burger

He picked stuff I eat. Hurray. No stress for me there. It's not the cheapest place, but the food was good. And that lava cheese was the best thing ever!

I still don't dare drink a whole alcoholic beverage by myself, but the 3 sips I took out of the glass (accompanied by lots of plan water) did help. For all of 10 minutes. Then I started to feel a little sick. 

We came home, and fucked our brains out. Yup. Sometimes that's all you need to make the icky go away.

Christmas is Coming 6 and A Raise

Remember how I was ranting and raging about my co-worker in THIS POST?

Well yesterday my boss told me he brought forward the effective date of my annual increment (which would have been March 2018) to January instead. YAY! I didn't even know I was gonna get a raise. So that was already a nice surprise. And to have it a couple of months sooner rather than later is awesome! 

He added, "It’s quite a big increment. But you seriously deserve it. It’s not often when the doctor can practise medicine without worrying about what happens at the front counter."

I told him that I appreciate what he's done for me in trying to get the other partners (who DON'T work with me) to agree to an earlier raise, and that those words of appreciation mean more to me than any raise. In a way it's true. Words aren't his thing. But they're mine. And I'm grateful that he tries to make me feel appreciated. 

Anyway I've worked it out such that from now on I'll be doing all the stuff that requires 2 or more brain cells, and my colleague can handle the more laborious tasks like stacking up our stock and filing papers. Maybe making fone calls to patients to tell them to come to the clinic. Basically I'm just using her as an extra pair of hands and legs to do stuff I tell her to do. 

It seemed to go smoothly enough yesterday when I was handling the registration and dispensing and well, practically everything. LOL. 

Ah well, I'm getting more money so I shan't complain. 

I'll thankfully not have to spend no pesos to buy no ring to put on no Lolita's hand. Enjoy this Jim Reeves classic!

That Ache in My Chest

Over the weekend (Fri and Sat evenings) I spent some good ol' quality time chatting with my nearest and dearest. Two of them I've known since I was in my teens, the other two, from when I was in my early 20s. 

I am grateful that they are non-judgemental, have heaps of support to give, are always willing to listen to my rants and ever-willing to share their own experiences. 

In a recent post I mentioned an ache in my chest that I eventually recognised as the pain I typically associate with lost love. The pain I usually feel when I've just broken up. But seeing as how there wasn't a breakup anywhere in sight, that surely couldn't have been the reason for it. 

Instead, in retrospect, during my conversations with the afore-mentioned besties, it dawned on me that perhaps what I was feeling was the loss of my parents. Not that I want them to stay - God knows I can't wait to get my privacy back, and for my life to resemble something normal again. But this latest decision of theirs to move out and back with the son has highlighted one very glaring truth: Not only did I not get a word of thanks (not that I wanted a banquet in my honour or anything) but over the months they began to dislike staying with me because I was too this or too that or whatever. 

In the first month when the reality was still fresh in their minds, the mother said one evening, "Thanks, girl, for letting us move here." 

And that was the first and last time she ever said anything about it. After that it went progressively downhill. 

In her mind, my apartment represented a whole bunch of restrictions - she had to share the fridge, couldn't put stuff anywhere she wanted,  had to do laundry on specific days, had to use a coaster for her cold drink, couldn't leave food out in the open... 

There are reasons for all this of course, and I didn't make a fuss, merely sorted things out as they presented themselves - I popped coasters under their drinks when I happened to see it (my table is wood), kept the food in the fridge (ants... you know?), did the laundry for them (my tenant and I have to wash clothes too so we need to take turns), packed up the produce in the fridge so that all her stuff was together on one shelf (my food habits and their food habits are different, and the tenant buys her own stuff... so differentiating everyone's food from everyone else's seems logical). 

But this translates to her complaining to her friends that I am *such* a difficult person to live with. 

So I suppose that ache could have been the feeling of being 'broken up' with even tho' I know I didn't do anything wrong! Indignant sorrow? 

It's mostly passed now that I've had a chance to verbalise all my feelings. I'm directing my energy at planning. After they move out there will be lots more to do. Re-organising the place for ME again, replacing some of the stuff that have become worn in the year they've been here, getting new pots and pans because the ones I have are on their last legs. (I don't know how they use pots -I managed to use this particular wok for 9 years without incident but now suddenly the non-stick coat has been scratched off in patches, the handle is cracked, and the back of the pot is burnt!)

Cushions that have been put away can now see the sun again, non-slip under-mats can be chucked out, candles and burners will likely creep out from their hiding places. 

Keeping my mind busy is helping. It always has. Hopefully the bad feelings don't come back. 

Daddy was also Pissy

READ PART ONE HERE

...

So when I woke up the next day, late - because being weepy makes little girls very tired and very tired little girls forget to check that their alarms are "on" - I saw a good morning message from Daddy. 

I said good morning back in a half-stupor and told him I had woken up late! Then ran off to do my thing. 

By the time I had gotten to work, my brain (and the rest of my emotions) had managed to settle down and the bad feelings kicked in. Daddy was going to be out of town tomorrow for a day - work thing. And I usually don't see him on the weekends. So if I wanted this sorted out soon I had to do it today. 

"Are you free this afternoon?" I texted.

He gave me a run down of his afternoon, with some timings and potential possibilities for meeting up. 

"Maybe if we could get a couple of hours of room time I could get over Daddy's knee."

He sent me a Bart Simpson sticker that conveyed his approval of that suggestion.

In my mind, the problem was solved. Or at least, shelved to be solved. Cos it would get sorted later so for now I could go on with my day trusting that things would turn out ok. 

(Daddy, however, told me later that he was pissy and short with the whole world all day. I suppose he doesn't compartmentalise like I do. I also suppose if he WERE to do so, it would probably be too late cos once something goes into one of the slots in his brain, it doesn't ever come out again. But for something to affect him all day I figured, "You must love me a whole lot, huh?" I got a smirk for a reply.)

We got a room in a hotel near his work place and talked for a good part of an hour. I said I didn't know what happened that night. Now sometimes after talking about stuff I manage to figure it out. But this time - I still don't know what it was. I'm not going to pick at it tho. I didn't like that what happened happened. He didn't either. But I don't want it to happen again. 

His solution - he said that if I ever felt like things were escalating or I was getting annoyed or irritated midway through a convo, just tell him and he'll stop (and presumably, change the subject or whatever). Instead of letting it go on till I snap. AND (and this is the important bit) if for whatever reason I don't realise that I'm reaching the limit and can't tell him in time, then if it happens again, so be it. He won't hold it against me because he gets that sometimes stress builds and we don't even know it, and we can't tell when something is going to trigger an emotional firestorm, and we can't say where the tipping point is.  But he gets that it happens. And if it does, it does, and we'll just get over it when we do like we're doing now. 

THAT was when he said he was feeling better now that we'd talked about it. And told me that he was feeling pissy all day because of the way things were left last night. 

Later I said to him that he could have told me earlier in the day that he was feeling pissy. He said there was no reason to, especially since he also knew we'd get it sorted when we met up in the evening. 

And I asked him what if I hadn't said I wanted to meet up and let it go on longer.. just existing on the pretense that everything was fine and normal... he said he'd leave things be till I was ready to talk. Cos if he brought it up before I was ready to deal with it, we'd have another blow up. (Probably true.) 

But what if I didn't want to talk about it at all? His answer was that probably meant I was totally pissed with the whole thing, didn't want to fix any of it, and was one finger flick away from breaking up with him in which case it wouldn't matter anyway. (Also probably true.) 

Still, I wish he'd share his feelings with me - especially the bad ones. Cos he has no problems sharing the good ones on his own now. 

After we talked in the room I said OK. I was feeling better about the whole thing. We reconnected with a spanking, the way I like, lying prone with my face in the crook of his arm as he held my head close to him, and spanked me with his free hand. He said some stuff between sets, I can't really remember. Good stuff about remembering to tell him what and how I'm feeling instead of letting it build and explode. And some other things. (I'm not really good with registering stuff DURING a spanking... I don't think many people are right?)

This was followed by some serious sex, with a fair amount of face fucking and rough handling. But it was good for us - there is a release that rough sex brings that's just so cathartic especially after an emotionally tiring episode. 

While we were cuddling I told him I was feeling weepy. And that made me tear. Actually, I don't know why but I'm feeling weepy now too. There is also a distinct ache in my chest that I have only ever felt with love lost - the ache from a breakup. I recognise it now. I didn't earlier. Strange that I should feel this way. 

Well, I suppose I could cry it out. Or ignore it. Either way, I'm sure it has something to do with the bigger picture - the parental units are moving out. But that's a story for another day. For now, I think BIKSS and me, we're back in OK territory. And that's enough.

That other stuff? Maybe it's depression. 

Rant - More for Me than for You

The mother thinks the live-in maid is a devious, cunning, little bitch who is just trying to make her look bad by doing everything correctly when I'm home, and shirking her duties when I'm not. So that when my mum complains about her I'll defend her and take her side against my own mother. Imagine that - trusting a stranger's words over those of the woman who gave me life. 

*Cue rolling of eyeballs.*

The thing about me is that I don't really care who caused what to happen or who said what or why whatever went wrong went wrong. All I really want to know is how it's gonna get sorted. The toilet is messed up - clean it up. 

The eggs and bread didn't get bought - someone go buy them. 

We're out of mouthwash, someone let me know so I can get some delivered (I love these new online supermarkets that'll deliver all the heavy stuff!)

My mother, on the other hand, is all about defending herself. I didn't do this... it was her. She was the one. She should have done this or that. She said she told you. OMG it's like living with a 4 year old (no offence to all the 4 year olds out there). 

The maid, because she is human and born under the zodiac sign Leo, will stand up for herself when "wrongly" accused. (No offence, Leos. I'm just generalising here...)

Now I can't say if she really *is* being wrongly accused or not. Because I'm not here to witness all the goings on. People have to work. Some of us have important things to do other than just sit around and bitch about other people all day. 

These days I ignore them and have told both of them to quit whining to me when I get home because I can't do jack about it. I wasn't here to witness any of it, so I can't say who's right and who isn't. Which is essentially what they're looking for. Not gonna do it. I can't say if I don't know. And even THAT isn't a satisfactory answer. The mother insists that if I don't say she's right it automatically means I'm on the helper's side. Good grief. 

So remember the maybe-I-don't-smoke idea? It turns out I'm now a weekend smoker cos those are the days I wake up to screaming and stress. So to keep my sanity I make my coffee and carry my mug down to the common area and sit and have a smoke while I load up on the caffeine. 

Because it is true. Waking up every Saturday and Sunday morning to a bombardment of complaints is NOT FUN! And it's all I can do to tolerate it long enough to have a quick shower, make a mug of java, and run out of the house. I want to think I'm doing the 'modern weekend woman having a chill out alone-time morning enjoying the sunlight and people-watching' thing. Like these sexy things...

But in reality it's more like this :

So today while I was puffing away and looking for a solution I sent a text off to the mother. Would you be happier moving back in with the other offspring? Her default setting is HE CAN DO NO WRONG. Whereas I AM A DISAGREEABLE BRAT.

Which means if we were BOTH to pass a remark or make a comment on something, the way she perceives it would be markedly different. I'm being difficult, while he is just trying to do the best thing for everyone. 

She excuses him no end. Which means in terms of being "happy" she'll be in a much better place over there. 

Which makes you wonder why they moved in with me in the first place right? Because she hates her daughter in law to hell and back. 

But now that the helper is a BIGGER pain in her butt, she's probably thinking the DIL isn't such a bad deal after all. So let's see. She is extremely interested in this option. Get rid of the live-in helper, go back to the son's place. And back to taking care of the father all by her lonesome. 

Her pride won't allow her to admit that she needs the helper for my father. She insists she's still taking care of him and the helper is just cleaning my floors and doing nothing else by way of caring for the father. So it's all fine by me. I won't be crying over having my space back again, that's for sure. Can someone say PRIVACY?

Pussy Spanks

I trialed and errored. 

Ok, I was reading Signed by vanillamom and got kinda worked up (read: horny as heck) so I told BIKSS via IM that I was gonna head off to the bedroom for a cum. 

But because it had been quite some time since my last orgasm, I thought I would treat myself to some nipple clamps (read: paper clips) too. 

And then I remembered a blog post I had read about pussy spankings and thought I should find a way to resurrect them in our play sessions.

You see, we'd stopped all rough play around the pussy area that involves striking or any other sort of friction so as to minimise the possibility of more warts erupting in that area. I've just about gotten rid of the ones I discovered last year so we're not keen on giving new ones a chance to grow. 

So I pulled out the baby spoon and smacked my own pussy. Just once or twice or 12 times, to see how it feels. It turns out there's still a remarkably ouch-y sting even when I've my knickers on. I don't know why I never thought of this before... if it's friction on the skin I want to avoid, I could just leave my underwear on, and still be able to enjoy a smack or 7. 

And just like that, my Monday became a success. Well, two cums, and a solution for a pussy-spanking revival seems like enough work for the beginning of the week - to me, anyway. 

*PS. you really should head over and read "Signed". It's so good!

Oh, and watch out for this Friday's post on the CWS blog. 

Talking Through It

Thursday night ended with a flurry of texts flying between our fones. I was disappointed that he couldn't come out walking with me. I had dinner plans that got cancelled, and would have gone to see my cousin off, but when the chance to see BIKSS presented itself, I jumped at it. 

And when it didn't happen I was upset. That led to some anger. And blame. And words. And frustration. And more words. Some pissy, some not. And eventually it got better.

So - over the last few posts I've learned some lessons, found out some stuff, made some decisions, and gotten some ideas.. 

1) Do what I need/want to do. And if I can't say OK if he wants to meet on short notice then I shouldn't feel bad about it. 

2) Don't plan walks together cos those are the MOST likely things to get cancelled. So if I'm walking, I'll tell him before I do and if he can come out, he can come out. And if he doesn't, well, I was going to walk anyway. 

3) Mondays seem to be the least likely in the no-show department. So maybe we'll just try and plan dinners / meetings on Mondays. 

4) I'm not sure what the Friday situation is, but I think that's a 50-50 rate of success type of thing. 

5) If he wants to meet or plan something, ask him what's the likelihood of this actually coming to fruition - is it a definite I-already-have-an-alibi thing, or a I-plan-to-but-I'm-not-sure intention.

6) Things at his house don't happen the same way things happen in my house. My family tells each other stuff way in advance and as soon as we know - Your dad and I are having dinner with your uncle next Sunday; I'm celebrating my birthday with the ex-classmates on Tues; Mary and Mike are gonna be in school till late on Fri. And this is a system that I'm totally and completely used to. Over in his house things sometimes don't get said till the morning of the same day. It baffles me, but er, what can I do right?

7) Which brings me to this - I can't fix him, or them, or anyone else. And I can't do anything about anyone else except me. So I'm just gonna have to change things that I can control in order to limit disappointment, increase success rate, and keep upsets to a minimum. 

8) Switching back to sub mode when he does come around isn't as hard... especially not when he comes and gets me from work, waits on my floor on the other side of the mall and surprises me by appearing before my eyes while I'm on the fone with him cos I called when I got done as I was told to do. 

9) Tuna in chilli and oil tastes awesome with spaghetti.

10) Men can carry a heck lot more groceries than I can. 

Which actually is really about last night - I wore a lilac set yesterday, and when we get home I typically hop into the shower. But I wasn't sweaty at all last night, so after a light hand spanking over his lap on the couch I was reluctant to let a pretty set go to waste. 

He got me into the room and I presented on the bed - and he spanked me some more. With his belt, with his hand, employing some new trick where he pushes up one finger against my pussy and spanks across both cheeks over that with his other hand. 

Some went by slowly, others quickly. One set made my toes curl - literally. He saw it and made a remark. 

Then he had me undress, as did he, and climbed over me positioning his cock at my entrance as I lay on my back looking up at him. He pushed in slowly, nudging, searching... and when his head was just about engulfed by my lips he thrust the rest of the way in.

Roger feels angry! 

Does he? Why?

Feels like he's exacting revenge on my pussy.

Hmmm why would he? 

 Cos she's been a naughty pussy?

.....You can imagine the rest. 

He stopped and tortured me by moving in an out only very slightly, just enough for me to need more, but not so still that I could forget there was an intruder in my folds - until I begged him to fuck me silly. Yes, in those words. I was all needy - and if I didn't feel subby before, this surely did the trick!

He made me repeat it a few more times before he resumed his rhythmic plunging. 

After he came I leaned over him and cleaned him up with my tongue. 

As we lazed and talked I apologised for forgetting that it's hard for him too. I get carried away with wanting him all to myself and I forget to be grateful for the times that he does spend hours with me. I suppose I really will have to learn to get used to (or at least tolerate) this habit of last minute relaying of information. 

I touched Roger after a bit, and sucked him, and unlike his usual slutty self (which is normally content with being in ANY hole) he specified this time that he wanted more pussy. So BIKSS got up, had me on my knees at the edge of the bed and doggie-styled me. 

The rest of the evening was pleasant... we measured the circumference of his shaft (yes you heard correctly), played with the tape measure (soft type that tailors use), went to the 24-hour store in flip flops to buy tuna and chilli in a can, walked past the 24-hour grocer and picked up a good sized piece of ginger that he has plans for this Monday, and we ate spaghetti with tuna while watching Honey Boo Boo on youtube - don't google it. Really. If I really wanted to share it I'd embed the video. 

Or hyperlink it. 

No, just don't. 

Then he mentioned not having the car on Monday so that he could spend a little more time with me over dinner and after - so instead of going to town for my treat I suggested an eating place a little nearer to my place, that's still relatively unknown and would be less risky in the being seen together department. 

Which makes me feel a little like, hey - YOU were supposed to plan the dinner treat and just whisk me away to a yummy birthday celebration, but again, I suppose it's just something I have to accept. The man is NOT about celebrating occasions. He does romantic gestures and surprises enough on regular days. But he just can NOT understand the concept of the Special Occasion. 

Still, we live and learn. It's been the first Christmas, the first New Year's Day, and now the first Birthday together. Next time round I'll be prepared... with a list of options. Or something. *Shrug* 'Cos hey, he may be the world's best cuddler, but P-L-A-N-N-I-N-G is the thing I do innit?

Guilt

Christina at Red Booty Woman wrote about feeling guilty for leaving her parents in the hospice, for going on a no-family vacation, just to get some time to herself to relax and renew. 

The thing is, we ALL have guilt, and as Fiona has said to me before regarding a sticky situation with my parents, it's my Catholic Guilt making me feel lousy. 

All I know is that I'm thankful I have someone who'll alleviate all this self-imposed guilt when it becomes too much for me to bear. This is today's story:-

In the spirit of the season, I offered to have this year's end of year-cum-Christmas party for my usual gang from work at my place. I say usual gang cos there are many teachers who float in and out of my centre depending on what day it is. I myself only teach there 3 days a week. So I am only familiar with those people who are there on the same days I am. 

It was supposed to be 4 guests and myself, making a total of 5. When invited  my branch manager she was so excited she invited another teacher on my behalf... well, ok, 6. I can do 6. This teacher doesn't feel like she wants to exclude her husband from the festivities, so she asked if he could come. Manager answers on my behalf - "sure!" she claps her hands in glee. In my head I'm pulling out the extra chairs from the rooms to make enough seating for all of us now. 

Groan. One of the other guests who was previously quite happy to come solo now asks if her boyfriend can come with, since XX is bringing her husband. Well, I couldn't say no... so er, yeah, I said ok. Fine. 8. That's it. No more please!

Now one teacher comes hoppety hopping along back from the ladies' room and asked what we're all so happy about. Girl who now has the green light to bring boyfriend said to her, "Hey you said you couldn't come cos your mum will be in town and you didn't want her to feel excluded, why don't you come and bring her along, after all XX is bringing her husband and I'm bringing my boyfriend!" 

She grinned, came up to me and gave me a hug and said, "That's so nice of you! I'll bring dessert." 

Then someone else said they'd bring drinks (of the soda variety, not the alcoholic kind!) and another one said they'd bring snacks. 

Um hello - I'm buying the roast chicken. And XX offered a potato salad. But surely we can't all be having just that for food? Then it's one excuse after another why each of them couldn't contribute real food. THey were coming from church, there was not where to buy take-out along the way, they didn't have a proper kitchen to cook in cos they're renting a place currently (foreigners) etc etc. 

I told BIKSS I felt like cancelling cos I was pissed at how it spiraled out of control. Not to mention I can't accommodate that many ("Oh, don't worry, we'll manage - we can squeeze") and we probably won't have enough food ("It's ok, you can make awesome pasta right? and we don't need a lot of food, we're small eaters") AND I don't even know 3 of the people who'll be there in my HOME and I don't even LIKE at least 2 of those who are coming. (One of them got invited out of courtesy cos she happens to work there - but heck, it was just ONE so I thought I shouldn't leave her out.)

BIKSS said just act happy for a week, then tell them I've got relatives coming in from out of town and I'm sorry but I have to cancel cos I have to entertain them and attend some huge big extended family Christmas dinner. Which isn't altogether a lie... my German relatives will be flying in on the 27th!

When I asked him if I was being a horrid person for doing this, his reply was "If the fun has been taken out of the event by inconsiderate folks, what's it worth?"

And just like that I have a smile on my face again. 

Now what do I do with that roast chicken and meatloaf that I've ordered (and paid for) from the deli? 

What It Was

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It Is Finished

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The Light at the End of the Funnel

I'm not so PMS-y anymore. Things look less bleak and I'm feeling a lot better now. We even got some face time in last night - and then some.

I haven't been sleeping properly. I've been attending a seminar over the last 2 days (yes, another one!) and having to wake up early and commute means I can't stay up till 3 am like I usually do. This meant going to bed early and then having my sleep disrupted in the middle of the night : I don't know why this happened, it did. Maybe it's cos I'm fighting with my inner sub. Yes, fighting. Subby me wants to just say Yes to BIKSS and accept that this is best for me - I shouldn't smoke AT ALL and I know it. Regular me is unhappy about having that choice taken away from me. (How's that for a quick summary of what you missed in the last post where this saga began?)

A part of me wanted to kneel between his knees at his feet and just have him tell me that I don't get a choice. That I will agree to his terms. And that I will never touch another cigarette again as long as he's in my life. And I realise that's the problem. This is choice. I'm still empowered. I still get to choose. That's what's throwing me off-balance. 

It's too late to remedy that now tho. The conversations that have followed since the puff-of-empowerment have rendered it impossible for this particular resolution. It would seem contrived and un-genuine. Or something. Last night as I was struggling to find sleep a thought struck me. Here are the facts: he doesn't like the smell and the taste. I, however, enjoy the motions and the habit rather than the actual substance. The solution? Even if only as a temporary measure:  the E- cigarette.

               

If you want to know how it works, take a look at this site.

I'm not sure what the exact parameters are going to be, how happy he's going to be with this solution (although preliminary discussions show promise), or if this is going to be just a first step forward on a journey towards an eventual total and complete exclusion of anything smoking-related.

Still, it's something. Which, if cliches are to be believed, is better than nothing. 

We're meeting later to go exercise. And discuss this. Wish me luck. No, that's not right. Wish us good communication. Yeah. That's better. 

[I was multi-tasking as I wrote this so please excuse me if I sound disjointed or the post feels haphazardly thrown together.]