Christmas was a thing, wasn’t it?
I hope all of you had a wonderful Christmas! I hope you were all warm and safe and happy, and surrounded by the people that you love.
Personally, I had a kind of quiet Christmas at my family’s home. I got a couple of really nice gifts, a couple of very strange gifts and my aunt entirely forgot me and gave everyone else really nice gifts while giving me nothing. My mother and I fought because I wanted to use seasoning in the food during Christmas dinner and she wanted to serve a lot of bland and boiled things and she ended up winning.
My grandmother, who is ninety three and not particularly well (and a large part of the reason that I’m here for such a long period of time) spent a lot of time introducing herself to me. She insisted that I’m not Alex and wouldn’t believe anyone who tried to tell her otherwise. At one point, she told me that I must be the same age as her granddaughter, but that she doesn’t come visit her much and she hasn’t seen her in a long time. She did recognize me once, on Christmas morning, and that was a relieving feeling. It was shortly followed by her asking where basically every deceased member of our family was. We simply responding by telling her that they aren’t here, but the the reminder that they aren’t was bitter (especially G, of course).
I got to talk to Paul on Christmas Eve, which was the best part of the holiday for me. My mom is very invasive to my privacy, which is part of what makes being at home very hard for me, but I was able to steal away into the room where I’m staying to skype with him. It was similar to the way that I used to sneak off into my bedroom in our old house in order to watch spanking videos as a teen, except now this whole world isn’t just a fantasy one for me: it’s where I live. It reminded me of how hard it would be for my teenage self to believe just how awesome my life is these days, and how lucky I am to get to do something I love so with such wonderful people. Despite my great dislike of this situation, it was also strangely hot to whisper “Shhhh! My mom will hear you!” when Paul said inappropriate things to me.
In other spanking related news, and in what seems to by my family’s time honored tradition, I received something that would make a very good implement. This time, nestled among a few bath products, I received this gem:
It’s always awkward when you get a gift like that from a family member. I later opened it up to look at it and had to sort of clumsily run it through my hair like The Little Mermaid encountering a fork at dinner: I *think* this is what people use this for, right? I had to resist the urge to smack it against my hand, which is the only thing that felt natural to do with it!
I got sick shortly after Christmas and haven’t done too much, hence the fact that it took me five days to finish this post! I don’t mean to make it sound like I don’t care about my family or enjoy spending time with them: it’s just challenging right now. I apologize for being so glum, but things will perk back up soon. I’m hopeful that I can steal away from my family to visit a few friends in the coming days. And soon I’ll be back to Los Angeles, where I’m planning to see a bunch of my wonderful friends there right away. I’ll be shooting with Chelsea Pfieffer for Good Spanking upon my return, too! I haven’t shot for Good Spanking since my first month of spanking modeling so I’m really looking forward to doing that!
I hate to be a bother, but if you haven’t voted for me as Spankee of the Year yet, please consider doing so now! It would certainly cheer me up if I won!
A much more spanking heavy post coming soon! ❤︎
This is an interruption to my recent narrative, because this post is important. It’s been stewing in my mind for a couple of weeks, and I’ve decided that I’m going to post it.
I get lots of questions in the inbox on my tumblr page, and I try to answer all of them. I like to have an open line of communication. I try to respond to Fetlife messages and emails, as well, but contacting me with something small over tumblr is pretty effective. A couple of weeks ago, I got the following question in my tumblr inbox:
“You have a large, chubby, big bottom. Do you think you
can take a hard spanking because it has so much padding?
Do you like your bottom?”
My natural reaction to a message like this is to feel badly about myself. Oh. I’m big. Thanks for reminding me. In fact, there have been times when these sorts of messages or photo comments or emails really tore me up. They pushed me over an edge of self doubt and lack of confidence. They reminded me of the thing that I feared: that I was fat. That I was the biggest girl making spanking videos. That I was really not all that pretty. That I largely got by as a model on my personality and, as the note mentioned, my ability to take a beating. That I’m not a tiny little thing, that I don’t fit over a lap as easily as the more petite girls and all my other fears and doubts relating to my height.
The truth is, I’ve spent a lot of my life feeling extremely insecure. I wrote a long post about my feelings towards my vertical size just about a year ago and it was one of the most vulnerable and personal things that I’ve ever written on this blog. I’ve never really mentioned my insecurities about my figure too openly, but I think a lot of people know that they’re there. I’m in a very body centric profession with a shape that’s different than many people in said profession, or even in the visible media. I put myself in a position where people discuss me in a public forum and where other bloggers think it’s a compliment to describe a girl as “pretty despite her size” when in reality, she’s about a size 8 and tremendously beautiful. It’s not hard to figure out how all that might make me feel.
A few months ago, my insecurities were peaking. I just flat out didn’t like myself physically. I was losing weight, but I was never satisfied. I didn’t like my shape. I didn’t like my height. I didn’t like my curves. I didn’t like bottom. Because modeling is my job, I pressed through working, but I didn’t expect to like any of the things that I saw. I was negatively comparing myself against some of my friends who are just built differently than me, and I was making myself feel awful about it.
|There’s nothing wrong with me.|
Eventually, I got to the point where I was honest with my friends about these feelings, and basically everyone I talked to was tremendously supportive. I was struggling with a general sense of depression to some degree for a while, especially over the winter, and that was adding to the way that I was seeing myself. I’m not going to name the people who talked to me about my body and my self image, because our conversations were extremely personal and intimate, but I’m eternally grateful for them. Their combined efforts helped me to realize that I was viewing myself through a dysmorphic lens and that I’m really actually quite pretty.
This is a feeling that’s been blooming and growing recently. I’ve gone into whatever the opposite of a depression is. Happiness. I like my life. I like the way that things are for me. I like what I do. I like the people I do those things with. I like myself.
And I mean that.
I feel drastically differently about myself than I used to.
I don’t feel ashamed about myself. About anything. I don’t feel ashamed of my sexuality, or of the things that I want, or of my history, or of the things I don’t know and can’t do well, or the times when I’m just not a real adult, or of my emotions. I don’t feel too tall. I don’t feel too fat. I like my shape. I like the way I look and feel draped over a lap. I like my long, curvy legs.
|I feel like I look tall in this photo, and that’s okay with me.|
I want to stress that no one ever made me feel the way I did before. In fact, I had tremendous emotional support to try and help me be my best. I just… did.
Now, I don’t.
So, I’m going to answer my Tumblr question.
I don’t really have that big of a bottom. It certainly doesn’t need three adjectives to describe it that way. I have a round, perky, spankable bottom. I like it. A lot of people like it. It’s my favorite part of my body. I like the way it looks. I like the way it bounces when I’m spanked. I like how it looks when I’m bent over, or over a lap. I like the way it fills out panties.
|Chubby isn’t the word I think about myself when I see this.|
I like the way it looks when I walk around. I like how it looks in a short skirt. I like how it looks in jeans. I wouldn’t change it. I mean that. It’s mine (well, and someone else’s, too, and that just makes it even better!) and I’m proud of it.
I don’t think that I can take a harder spanking because of the way that I’m built, but I wouldn’t entirely discount the idea. Honestly, I think that I can take a hard spanking because that’s what I’ve always wanted, and because Malignus taught me a lot of wonderful things about both active and passive submission over the years. I know that I’m less at risk at having my bones struck because of the way that I’m built, and I’m grateful for that because I do like being hit hard (in the right situation).
I’m not less spankable because of my shape. I can still feel comfortably emotionally small, vulnerable, physically supported… everything that I want to feel. I’m not just saying this. It’s a real change.
I hope that this answers the OP’s question. ♥
After I graduated from college, Rafa and I moved from the East Coast to Los Angeles. We did this by driving my trusty and most beloved car, Sandcat, in route which was carefully planned so that we could visit a number of significant people and do lots of fun stuff on the way there. It was my first significant road trip, and I was certainly hooked on them right away. While we were traveling, we stopped to visit a friend of my biological father’s and his wife. We lingered there for a while due to the calm and relaxing nature of their home. They live in the woods, close enough to get in the truck and drive to town but far enough away that one feels entirely alone on their land. At first, the quiet was terrifying to me, but as I became comfortable with the sense of stillness, I came to focus on the hum of cicadas at night, the rush of a deer moving through the branches, the smell of the Earth or the tranquility of the slow moving river. I found a sense of peace there that I had simply never been aware of in my life until then.
During a conversation with one of my hosts, he talked to me about internal stillness. He took an index card, and on one side he wrote “Be everywhere, always.” He then turned it over and wrote “Be here, now.” He gave this to me, and reminded me that this was a choice that I had the ability to make. I could decide to simply exist in the place and moment I was in, regardless of whether or not I was cut off from cell phone reception and surrounded by natural beauty. I kept this in my mind, but it took me another couple of years to take the full meaning of it. It’s a lesson that Malignus taught me early in our relationship, and which I have needed to be reminded of many times since then.
I tend to want to be everywhere, always. This has only been made worse by the fact that I have a wonderful array of friends and lovers who are literally spread across the globe. This weekend, someone I love had a hard day. I wanted to be with her. Another group of my loved ones and friends got together for a party which seems to have been an incredible amount of fun. I wanted to be with them. Yet another very special friend is celebrating a huge milestone in her life right now. I wanted to be there with her.
Physically, due to the fact that I’m not a super-human, I don’t have a choice whether or not I’m everywhere, always or here, now. If I had that ability, this situation would be different. Instead, I only have the mental ability to choose where I will keep my focus. I can split my attention between the hundreds of things that need doing, the myriads of people that I love and the adventures that I could be having or will be having in the future. Or, I can choose to focus on my here and now and belong in the moment I’m living. This is a battle for me. It’s something that, I hope, if I spend enough time working on will eventually become second nature to me. I’ve been stressing recently. I’ve had a lot of things going on. By focusing on the here and now, I’ve been slowly starting to relax and unwind, to calm my feelings and to keep my attention where it belongs.
This is also something which is very relevant to spanking for me. My brain is often in a lot of places. I’m worrying about ten things, thinking of what I’m going to write about next, what I’m going to cook for dinner, whether all my bills are paid, who I said I’d call, whether I’ve kept up all my obligations for all my Bosses of Me, who I miss, where I’m going next et cetera, et cetera. I used to find that a spanking was difficult to take until it got to a point of intensity where it overwhelmed me and therefore pushed all these other things out of my brain. Once I reached this place, I was able to give myself over to it better and get much more out of it.
After Shadowlane, when I returned home after six weeks of being away, Malignus spanked me in a way that was very loving and which made me feel very much at home again. Before he did so, I got in position over his lap with my bottom bare and was prepared to be spanked. He then instructed me to put away all my adventures, all my memories and stories and to choose, essentially, to be there and then. He lead me to focus on making the choice to put all those things away before the spanking began. I felt much safer, more vulnerable and, more than anything else, much more calm at the onset of that spanking, instead of having to struggle through things until the point where the spanking overwhelmed me and pushed them away. It was a very important lesson, and one which I’ve tried my best to keep in mind for all spankings since then. Because, really, for a spanko, what moment is more precious to linger in than a spanking? Sure, it can be scarier and often more painful if you give it your full focus, but that’s really the point. I’d certainly rather have a more pure experience than one which is watered down by the rest of my life. Choosing to be relaxed at the onset of a spanking also allows me to leave it in a more elevated space as opposed to simple using the spanking as something to return me to an even keel.
Does anyone else find that they have these sorts of problems focusing on the here and now? I can’t imagine that it’s uncommon. We live in a world of interconnectivity, of long distance friendships, of tweeting and texting and live feeds. Even when we physically shut down our computers and put down our phones, our minds are often still functioning at this speed and in this manner. Fellow bottoms, do you find that a spanking can center your mind? Does anyone else have the experience of needing to be overwhelmed in order to let go? Do you do anything to keep yourself here and now while being spanked? Or is this not an issue for other people? Does just the sight of your Top with an implement in hand snap you back to reality, or is your complete attention something that he has to work for? I’m curious to know others’ experiences. 😀
I’m going to get a bit personal here, for a moment, and talk about things that I normally keep to myself.
At 5’8″, I’m of fairly average height for a woman. I’m not particularly tall. At a 150 pounds and a dress size eight, I’m really quite average all around.
I’ve never felt like it, though. I’ve always felt like this:
Maybe it comes from the fact that I was told by doctors that I would likely grow up to be over 6′ tall, and I began intentionally stunting my growth for fear of that when I was just a little girl. Maybe it’s the fact that I was taller than my mother by the time that I was ten, and that I reached my current height before I entered middle school. Maybe it’s the fact that one of my childhood best friends was so tiny that in third grade, our teacher couldn’t see her over the desk and thought that she was absent on the first day. Maybe it was that I grew up in a small house with low ceilings and tiny rooms that gave me a sense of claustrophobia. Whatever it is, I never, ever wanted to grow. I always felt that I was too big.
I’ve done various things to make myself seem smaller– I wear lots of vertical stripes and clothing which is cropped in a way that shortens a person, I choose prints and patterns which are cute, dainty and diminutive, I slouch as much as I can possibly get away with (which I was doing fairly well for myself with, I felt, until Malignus decided that I needed to improve my posture) and I’m never seen wearing heels. I did bring a pair with me to TASSP, and it was the first time that I wore heels in as long as I can remember, certainly at least a year.
There was one thing which I always took comfort in, sort of an adage that I’d come to love: “All girls are the same height when they’re over a lap.” I really, truly believed in this, and it did wonders for me. While being spanked OTK, no matter by whom, I felt truly small. I don’t mean that I felt “little” or that I felt “young.” I felt like a small thing, and it was an absolutely beautiful feeling.
Recently, I was talking to one of my Tops about these feelings, and about how badly I wanted to have a smaller body, and I said “At least I can take comfort in the fact that when I’m over your lap, you can’t tell!” “Well, you know that’s not actually, true, right Alex?” he asked. I shook my head. I thoroughly believed that it was true. “I can still tell how far you stretch out to, and your center of gravity is still in the wrong place.”
I never believed in Santa, or in the Easter Bunny, or any of that stuff, and I originally didn’t believe in God, then forced myself to, so when I stopped believing, it wasn’t painful. As a result, this was the first time in my life that I really experienced having something which had previously been rather sacred to me taken away.
|You’re sure? I’m still too big?|
I still haven’t recovered from it, entirely. It never mattered to me what my size was compared to the person spanking me, but suddenly, it’s become something which is on my mind. I know I’ll get over it. I know I’ll let go and stop worrying and let myself feel safe and good while being spanked. I’m just still a little heart broken.
The day that I had that conversation, I called my doctor friend and my scientist friend and asked them if there was a way that I could be shrunk. When they promised me that there was no safe way, I started doing research on my own, JUST IN CASE.
I know that I’m just going to have to find a way to accept myself.
For a while now, I’ve been dating a boy here in Sioux Falls. He’s clever and funny, he gets my sense of humor, and on our first date, we spent most of the time discussing Hume’s empiricism. He’s also 6’5″ and extremely strong because he does physical work. For the first time since I was a teenager, I felt small beside him. I could put my hand up to his and feel like I had little, tiny fingers. He could pull me down with the tiniest of efforts on his part. We were just “getting there” romantically, but I had high hopes for it. See, I don’t need all of my relationships to satisfy every part of me. That would be very against the point of Polyamory for me. I was hoping that if I had, for the first time since I was a girl, someone who made me feel small sometimes around, then I would get over the complex that I’m big in general. I imagined that having someone who made me feel small would make it so that I never felt “too big.” I thought that it would make me alright with my body.
|Sorry, not happening!|
Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I imagined might happen, because he met someone with whom he wants to have a monogamous relationship, so we won’t be seeing each other anymore.
I realized tonight, that this may actually be a good thing. There are no “drink me” bottles floating around, and I’m stuck with myself for the rest of my life. The truth of the matter is, I don’t need someone else to make me feel good about myself. I have to rock what I’ve got and be truly confident in myself in order to be happy and successful. The way that I look or appear to others or seem next to them shouldn’t influence the way that I feel.
The truth of the matter is that I’m the only one who thinks that I’m so large that I take up the entire room and I’ve got my head on the ceiling, but as long as I’m seeing myself this way and acting like that, people *are* going to see that I’m not fully comfortable with myself.
So, I’m going to be alright with myself, no matter where my center of gravity is. I’m not going to surround myself with environments that make me feel better about myself. I’m going to feel okay with myself.
I’m not entirely sure *how* I’m going to get there, but I know that I will, because I am nothing if not determined.