Self-Dicipline and Serving My Body

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Yesterday, I had that moment that every woman dreads.

It was warm out for San Francisco. It had been for the last few days. I decided that it was time to dig through my drawers and pull out one of my favorite pairs of shorts. They were longer, dress style, button and zip fly, and I had no worries of chubby chafe with them. I had worn them just fine a year ago when I had gone down to Disneyland with my family for Easter. I hadn’t really touched them since then.

I pulled them up, went to button the fly..and..

Fuck. Fucky fuck. Fucky fucky fuck fuck.

It buttoned. Barely. Uncomfortably. I immediately pulled them of and pulled on my “fat shorts” that always had room in them. They fit perfectly.

FUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK.

I have been on and off diets since I was 8 years old. I’ve always been curvy, and my mother, who was 4 ft 6 and 80 lbs soaking wet, never quite understood what to do with me. I was a double digit clothing size when she was a double zero. I’ve never NOT had to work to keep my body in some sort of shape other than round.. and it’s so easy to get lazy.

I had a very poor self-image for a very long time. I saw “FAT” whenever I looked in the mirror. Who on earth would ever want me? I was never going to be the average person’s version of beautiful. I was in my 20’s and I was supposed to be the skinniest I would be in my whole life… and I was pretty fucking heavy. I hated it.

..And then I found out what service was.

Cal, Kane, Smith, Graham.. Every single Dominant man I have known, for however long I’ve known them.. from one-night encounters in a dungeon, to actual romantic relationships that extended outside of the bedroom, made me feel like, in that moment, that I was the most incredible woman in the world. That I was a goddess, even as I was being used for their pleasure. I have never felt more beautiful then when Kane was taking me. Not asking. Not making love. Taking what was his, a hand wrapped around my neck, because he could. Because only I, in that moment, was capable of pleasing him. My body and what it could do pleased him. As is. Not 20lbs lighter. Not 60. As is.

Any time in the past where I have mentioned to Kane that I wanted to lose weight I have always been met with the same response: I think you are beautiful as is, but you need to be happy with you.

It’s amazing how long that message can take to sink in.

It kind of hit me while I was standing there, strained fly in hand, glaring down at my shorts.

I know I am desired by men. I know I am a DAMN good submissive when I am permitted to serve. I know that I am pleasing in both my deeds and actions and I know that I want to make myself better, for myself and as a reflection of who I serve. I want to be better, and that means taking care of my body.

Yes, I am beautiful. Yes, I want to lose weight and get in shape.

Submission has taught me many things and pushed my body to lengths I didn’t think it could go. I have taken lashes, smacks with a riding crop, spankings, and paddles when I thought I just couldn’t do it, but I did it because it was asked of me. Because I wanted to please someone. Because I knew that I could make it through, so long as I grit my teeth and focused.

If I can go through beatings for others, why can’t I go through exercise and diet for myself?

Why can’t I use the discipline and determination I’ve gained in serving others to serve myself for once? If I go into super subby mindset, getting myself in shape does serve others in the long run. I will be more confident in my appearance, and my body will more than likely be able to take more and be bendier (hopefully… Yoga is involved..and being Gumby should be part of a submissive’s job requirements…). I will be more pleasing to the eye, not because I am ugly or fat now, but because I will hold my chin higher, my chest further out. I will smile more and be more open, less likely to hide because of my chub.

So, this submissive is back on Weight Watchers by her own choosing. I like it because it makes me accountable for every single thing I put in my mouth. I have to track, have to write it down, and have to see the consequences when I eat crap. I’m back to using my Fitbit, to see every single step I take towards a little better physical me.

I am beautiful. I am desirable. And if I don’t believe that, no one else will. I could be more confident though, more sure of myself. And I will be.

It helps that I actually LIKE healthy food. The exercise…eh… but there’s always room for improvement.

Bring on the vegetables and yoga classes!!! RAWRR!!!!!

Yours continually trying to better herself,

-Rena

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