In high school, I was damn sure I was submissive. I remember wandering around with a friend, just hanging out, talking about how she actually had confidence, but failed at seeming confident, whereas I was good at seeming confident without actually having any. I didn’t want to have to be confident, I wanted to submit.
In college, I realized I was a switch. Pretty early on in fact, because by the end of my freshman year I was identifying as a switch, though usually with bottom tendencies. Somewhere along the way I started getting more comfortable being dominant, being toppy.
There are times when I think maybe I’m just one or the other. I’m pretty sure life enjoys reminding me exactly why that is completely false just at those moments. Any time I’m starting to wonder if I’m just one or the other, something happens. For instance, cuddling on a couch with a very scary top, who pulls my hair, controlling my head, and for those moments at last I’m finally out of my head. The relief washes over me of not deciding, not being responsible, not being careful, of not having to pay that kind of attention. Instead, I get to push through pain, through challenge, and show my strength in giving up that control… and it is a relief to let go and submit. Because I’m not any one thing and I need breaks from whichever roles I chose to take on.
But until more recently I really hadn’t much bottomed (with regards to pain) in a long while. T has dramatically altered not just how I process pain, but the physical sensations. Pain feels different. It is really hard to describe. I’m more jumpy, though less sensitive technically. I don’t know my physical limits as well, I want to push those boundaries more and more because I like not liking the sensations. The first real time I pushed past the pain I liked into the pain I seemed to not like in a consensual, trusting manner got me incredibly turned on… and left me with wonderful bite marks all across my skin for quite some time. In a way, I really hated those bites. Because, dammit, they hurt. I told her more, not to inflict harm but to feel that hurt. I was nowhere near harm, and the pain wasn’t bad for me, it got me wetter than I had been in a long time. But that was before T. So, now bites send me writhing, whining, and twitching far more than before. I don’t know how to process this new sensation, but damn am I enjoying learning.
Also, stingy pain got a lot different, and a lot more intense.
Yet, even while I’m relearning my reactions to pain, even while part of me is seeking out chances to bottom, I pull out The New Topping Book to read. I seek out new opportunities to top, to dom, to control. After years of relationships trying to throw off the politics of owning another person, I’ve come to find how much I want someone else to be “mine” (which, me being me, has absolutely nothing to do with monogamy. Just because something would be “mine” does not mean exclusive rights…) Unless I actually feel my more submissive side reacting to someone, another person’s attempts to dominate me lead to entertaining times of wrestling and me biting them a lot. Probably biting them very hard. A certain puppy learned this the hard way. Or maybe I should say the fun way.
Hmmm… One of these days I should get a picture of someone’s bruises from my bite. They can be really pretty.
S and I broke up. For a lot of reasons, I’m not going to go through the details on my blog. I’ll be writing of other things, but yeah that is a lot of why I haven’t written recently. There are a few things about it that I’ll write, or reference, but don’t expect too much.
I’ve been flirting with the idea of getting a mini skirt. I first voiced this out loud to some friends I was visiting over Halloween weekend. I don’t think I’ve ever actually worn one. But part of me really likes the idea, even though I usually hate wearing skirts of any kind, or shorts, because I hate my legs touching skin on skin.
T has been going. Acne is still a constant battle. The hardest part for me is remembering to stay hydrated. My skin always has broken out drastically less when I’m thoroughly hydrated, and when I actually get pretty dehydrated my acne gets a lot worse. So, I’m trying to remember to drink more water. My kidneys are probably thanking my skin for getting me to do this more.
My voice has leveled out. It doesn’t shock people every time I see them with how much deeper it has gotten, and I feel like even my grandmother has started to get used to the sound of my deeper voice. No more cracking (yay!) and it definitely passes. I like how I sound. I like that I haven’t changed speech patterns at all, just my vocal range has shifted downwards… but it also shrank. I have a lot less control over my tone of voice, which is to be expected seeing as I have little practice with my new range, but I also have a many fewer options of tone. I’m not just deeper, my range has actually shrunk which makes my range of expression different. I’m not intentionally more monotone, I just end up fading out a lot quicker.
Surprisingly, I really seem to like my newly coming in chest hair. Didn’t expect that. I was looking forward to darker and a lot more leg hair, and darkened arm hair. I’m still waiting for my facial hair to be something worth growing instead of just needing it shaved every few days. But chest hair? I mostly expected to feel neutral about it. Unexpectedly, I’m really liking it, and even looking forward to more. The genderfucker in me wants it darker and to wear my corset. Because honestly, I think it’d be damn hot.
I just started getting hungry again recently. After a few weeks of legitimately not being hungry and having to instill a pretty strict schedule to make sure I ate, I’m glad that it is back. It is strangely comforting, a sense of normalcy returning. Also, I just don’t like living that strictly to a schedule. I prefer being hungry all the time to messing up my schedule a bit and risk passing out from forgetting to eat.
I’ll be back to writing more often now.