(per usual, click pic for big!)

While I continue to debate passworded posts, I’d like to share my FAVORITE thing that happened while Antonio was here.

I got my collar back!

(*coughs* It has, er, come to my attention… that this information probably would have made more sense and resonated more deeply with you guys if I had… say… actually mentioned on January 13th, when it happened, that I lost the privilege of wearing my collar, and was told I couldn’t have it back until Antonio put it on me personally. If I ever invent time travel, I promise the FIRST thing I’ll do is change that. Because having appropriate priorities is important!)

I went seventy-five miserable days without my collar. And now I have it back. I’m happy as hell, and determined not to lose my amazing status symbol again. That’s what it is to me, a status symbol. Low status and high status, or something… I bet I won’t be able to explain this properly.

I’m just so damn proud to wear it. I know a collar symbolizes slavery, and being property, etc. And it does, yes … But for me, it’s an all-good kind of symbol. It’s not humiliating or hurtful or annoying or anything. (Ain’t saying those are bad things, yanno.) There are things we do that symbolize my submission and slavery and my status as property that are humiliating and forced and gross and ergh. But those are temporary situations. Words, actions, days, hours, activities… But my ever-constant reminder? The one that never leaves? My every-single-waking-minute symbol? My collar? It’s just the fuzzy-happy-good stuff. I LOVE it and there is nothing about it that feels forced. AGAIN, not that the things that feel forced feel BAD… Ergh. See? I can’t explain anything right. Just PRETEND I make sense, kay? Thaaaaanks.

It almost feels the collar is for ME, not him. I’m sure he likes it, but if he needed me to wear a collar to feel I was properly owned, I’d think that was sort of silly. It’s my symbol of my pride and joy and I feel more “allowed” to wear it rather than being “forced” or “required” to wear it, yanno? There is no element of force, or any of that “I’m unwilling… but willing. consensual non-consent” stuff. I mean, I like that stuff. It’s just got nothing to do with my collar. My collar is my happy place. (EDIT… Incidentally, I’m curious… While I “have” to wear my collar, I honestly never FEEL like it’s a requirement. I feel, primarily, that it’s a privilege. How do you guys FEEL about your collars, if you wear them? Or any equivalent symbol? Is it a symbol you both decided on together, both wanted, etc.? Is there an element of choice in wearing it? I mean, obviously there are situations where one can’t wear a collar, that’s not really what I’m talking about. I guess I mean… How much rides on the collar. Does anyone use it as a pawn, a bargaining chip? If it’s thrown off in anger, would there be retaliation or an eye roll? Would it mean anything to take it off without permission or necessity? Does anyone hate their collar, and wear it simply because it’s required? ***A MILLION OTHER QUESTIONS GO HERE*** All I know is how I feel about mine. I’m VERY curious about everyone else!)

If I lose it, I’m still his. It is a symbol. Nothing more, nothing less. If he takes it off me? It means he’s taking away my status symbol, taking away a reward, removing a comfort, removing a reassurance, removing my security and telling me to up my game. It doesn’t mean I’m not his. That would take, yanno, an actual conversation. Running up behind a someone and putting a collar on ‘em would not make you their owner. So it doesn’t work the other way around, either. (YES.  I KNOW I just misused a plural pronoun.  I DO NOT CARE!  Okay… Fine… I care a great deal.  But it looks STUPID with “his/her” and “him/her” in there… *sulk*)

(And, for the record, this losing the collar thing doesn’t happen often with us. I think this is the first serious collar removal I’ve had. It’s a pretty serious punishment because of how deeply I LOVE my collar, not because it actually affects our relationship. Things I DO affect our relationship, not things I wear.)

But, in any case, I think I had a point here… I mean, most likely not. I rarely have points. But still.

I have my collar back. It’s a simple black leather dog collar.

I am, in a word, rhapsodic.

(My hair was really, really dark in that picture, btw. Yikes. And I have a scar on my neck that bothers the hell out of me. Grrrrrr.)

So, as some of you may know, I just got back from seeing Master. *grins*

I spent four days and two hours with Antonio.

It was, very obviously, not enough.

I did learn (and/or was reminded of) a few things, though. So buckle up, guys – you are about to be blown away by a hurricane of information.  Bam.

1 – Bringing non-waterproof mascara = mistake. (I don’t know what in the hell possessed me to bring regular mascara, but between the tears and saliva and puke and come, I was cursing myself at regular intervals. Srsly moronic of me. NOT that I think waterproof mascara would have held up perfectly, but still. God damn me and my miniscule brain.)

2 –Master can do everything one-handed. (I flat out refused to relinquish his hand for four days straight. I was not going to go one second not in contact with him if I could help it. I even eyed the shifter in the car with the deepest of loathing for stealing some of my time. See picture below, which I took on my trusty iPhone, and click for big. And for the record, Master has the biggest hands in the history of ever. I have big hands. If I line up the bottom of a DVD case with my wrist, my middle finger clears the top with a third of an inch to spare. So just imagine what that means HIS hands are like when you see ours together. Yum.)

3 – It confuses people when you have someone else order for you. (I tend to forget this is not a common practice. Waiters stare blankly at ME while Antonio is saying things like “and she’ll have…” It irritates me a bit, and I stare pointedly at Antonio while they do it. For fuck’s sake, people, he hasn’t duct taped my mouth shut, he’s just ordering my food. And he’s being polite about it too, so here’s an idea – look at him you jackasses.)

4 – I am getting my tongue pierced again. (Yep. Antonio has decided that, while I already have my tongue pierced, I need another piercing further back. Antonio said I could post a picture of my tongue. But I don’t know that any of you will want to look at it. It is VERY long. Disgustingly long. Obscenely long. I can touch it to my nose with ease. I can stick my tongue straight out, look down, and see about an inch of it. And in this picture, you can see that if I stick it out and down, it clears my chin. Yes. That loooong. And apparently, it’s getting pierced again. *shudders* Again, click for big! And again, my apologies for making you look at this.)

5 – Short times together send me into that slavey-phase where it bothers me to NO end when Antonio does even TEENY things I consider “my” job. (He made himself coffee one morning and I thought I was going to cry. He put some dishes in the sink and I swore up and down to myself he hated me because I was clearly worthless. Final straw was when he cleared a couple beer bottles off the bedside table one night, and I blurted out, “Why did you do that?” with a distinct pout. He mistook my question (or perhaps simply ignored my intent) and said “Uh… So I don’t knock them over when I go to sleep.” My real question to him was “Why did YOU do that?” but I didn’t voice it again – I lay back down and pondered just how useless I am. He made me scoot out of bed a few minutes later to bring him another beer, so that was nice… Lord knows once we’re back together permanently, I’m probably going to have the unslavey-phases where I want to kick him in the shins when he tells me to do something I know he could do faster and easier himself. But shhhh, right then I was reveling in wanting to do everything!)

I’m happy.

I’m also debating how much to write, what to write, and when to write it. While this blog is deeply personal, there is an element of “once-removed” to the content when it applies to some aspects of our mental and physical relationship.  I share my lessons, the things I think and have learned, and the feelings (even if I’m of two minds) I have processed and feel secure voicing.  But there are some things I just don’t really discuss from mental musings to physical interactions.

Do I want to share with YOU guys?  My readers?  Yes.  I do.  I want to tell you all kinds of things, and I have the slightly narcissistic idea that maybe you want to hear them too.  But I’m not sure if certain discussions are in line with my overall blogging goals.

In case you’re all unclear, I over-think EVERYTHING.

I talked to Antonio, though, and what I’m going to do is just password protect anything I think is entirely gratuitous. I don’t want anyone to get all weird about passwords, either. I’m not hiding stuff from certain people, or even from lurkers. I might even give some convoluted hint that will help people figure out the password if they don’t want to come out and ask for it. It’s truly not about hiding what I’m saying, it’s just that… Oh hell, I don’t know. It’s me being me.  I might not even do it anyway.  I’m awesome like that.

And for the record, there is not a single person I have EVER seen comment here, or in whose blog I have commented, who I would not want to have the password. Not a one. Everyone is welcome, I have nothing but incredible respect and affection for all of you.

Which reminds me. I have got to update my blogroll. I keep getting comments and meaning to go read blogs and put them in a proper blogroll, and then I forget because I suck at life.