I watched him standing there, in front of the brightly lit Christmas tree, before my parents with the box in his hands. His nervousness was obvious. I smiled a little as I noticed the slight shaking of his hands.

Daddy asked him what his intentions were and my parents and I waited with bated breath. He glanced over his shoulder at me then back to my parents. With one smooth fluid motion he opened the jewelers box to reveal my dream engagement ring to my parents.

I could go into the details but I want to remember them forever in my own way. In my heart and in my mind, not in words. So I’ll leave it at this.

This was the best Christmas of my entire life. The Knight on one knee in front of me with a promise of forever, a marriage proposal tempered with love and sincerity the likes of which I have ever known. As he slipped the ring on my finger, of course I said yes.

Yes to his proposal. Yes to him. Yes to our love. Yes to the stuff dreams are made of.

Our children seem pleased. My parents cried and they really couldn’t be more excited. As I think back on the holidays and the events that led to that magical day I know that I am blessed. I have my friends, my family, and the love of a man that I once was convinced only existed in my dreams. All of it combined has made this a December to remember.

A December to remember
Always in our hearts
Spending every day of the holidays
Wrapped up in each others arms
All I want for Christmas
Is forever to be like this
A December to remember forever more

{Soon I will have pictures of my dream ring so you can see it for yourselves. Until then, if you want to know more, just email me.}

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I walked around my good intentions
And found that there were none
I blame my father for the wasted years
We hardly talked
I never thought I would forget this hate
Then a phone call made me realize I’m wrong

And If I don’t make it known that
I’ve loved you all along
Just like sunny days that
We ignore because
We’re all dumb and jaded
And I hope to God I figure out
what’s wrong

I walked around my room
Not thinking
Just sinking in this box
I blame myself for being too much
Like somebody else
I never thought I would just
Bend this way

Then a phone call made me realize I’m wrong

 

And If I don’t make it known that
I’ve loved you all along
Just like sunny days that
We ignore because
We’re all dumb and jaded
And I hope to God I figure out
what’s wrong

 

And I hope to God I figure out
what’s wrong

Hope to God I figure out
I hope to God I figure out
what’s wrong

 

If I don’t make it known that
I’ve loved you all along
Just like sunny days that
We ignore because
We’re all dumb and jaded
And I hope to God I figure out
what’s wrong

 

And If I don’t make it known that
I’ve loved you all along
Just like sunny days that
We ignore because
We’re all dumb and jaded
And I hope to God I figure out
Our Lady Peace- 4AM

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And who would’ve thought
You would fall for someone just like me
For the best days of my life…

… You’ve got your faults
And I don’t need to tell you I’ve got mine
Well I guess they all even out
Wherever I ride
The thought of you turns water into wine
And somehow I lose a crowd 

He leads and I follow. It is what we find most comforting, the natural roles we slip into. He treats me as his equal, as a woman with more than three holes that are open to him at all times. He treats me like a child. He treats me like his whore. He treats me like his greatest passion.
And lately I have treated him like-

Like the enemy.

I have spat nastiness in abundance. I have dared him to corner me, dared him to make me listen and believe. In my feeble attempt to come across as tough, I have shut him out then wondered why he was so far away. Oh the hateful things I have said. The hurt that has flashed in his pretty blue eyes is more than I can handle.

It came to an end earlier this evening. He called me on the carpet for being mouthy and I thought I would call his bluff. He search for the riding crop but it was nowhere to be found. As he took his work belt from the wardrobe I still didn’t believe that he’d punish me.

When the first blow landed on my bare ass I let out a yelp. I raised up and started to move away. Without mincing words he explained that it would be worse if he had to chase me. I fought back the tears and bent over. Blows two and three were worse and I wiped the tears away.

Mere seconds passed before his cock was buried in my cunt. I wasn’t wet from the spanking. That was punishment and I knew it. I was wet because he loved me enough to punish me. He put his foot down. Enough was enough. I was out of control, wild and terrified, yearning to be set free. Instead he wrapped his love around me.

He leads and I follow. It is what we find most comforting, the natural roles we slip into. He treats me as his equal, as a woman with more than three holes that are open to him at all times. He treats me like a child. He treats me like his whore. He treats me like his greatest passion.

And I will do well to remember to treat him just as he deserves to be treat-

With as much love and respect as he gives me.

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Forgive the sappy sentiments. I love him. More than even he could ever possibly know. For the man of my dreams, my lover, my best friend…

I don’t know what brought us here
Something in the stars said you and me
I don’t know where this feeling comes from
Surely it was meant to be
For I have known you even in my dreams
My eyes are open, my heart can see

As sure as stars light the midnight sky
As sure as children wonder why
As sure as newborn babies cry
I was born to give my love to you
Born to give my love to you

Heaven must be holding on
To all the love I’m feeling now
Here we are this is the moment
I believe it’s our turn somehow
Hearts together, hands across the night
One forever, finally in sight

As sure as stars light the midnight sky
As sure as children wonder why
As sure as newborn babies cry
I was born to give my love to you
Born to give my love to you

I was born to give my love to you 

Martina McBride~ Born To Give My Love To You

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I can’t even believe for a moment that I’ll make any sense. I haven’t slept in who knows how long and today won’t allow it. Life is rushing at me, spinning out of control. It races towards me, taunting me, daring me to believe. Life is a bitch on a bad hair day with full blown PMS. I’m not even pretending to be unafraid.

Though the fear is there and it’s so thick in my throat that I believe it will choke me to death, in my heart I am so hopeful. I am excited about Christmas for the first time since I was a child. The magic and the promise are taking hold of me, firmly by the hand. I’ve tried to wriggle free but it’s useless. Hell, I don’t even want to be let go.

I’m a girl with a dream in love with a man with a long term plan. He won’t let me run, nor will he allow me to hide. As he pulls me close and his whispers chase away the fear, I close my eyes for a moment and breathe. With him, because of him, I’m a woman with the will to live and daring to dream.

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I hate Christmas. Hate is really a weak word for the way I feel about it. Shopping, holiday music, whining kids and even whinier adults- it fills me with dread. The dread begins before Thanksgiving has safely been ushered out. It’s been this way since the year everyone was told about Sperm Donor. Since the news killed my maternal grandfather.

Normally I put up a tree because of the girls. I decorate it because if I have to look at it, it’s going to look good. Colored lights are a no go as are blues of any shade. Just my personal preference. Before The Knight my trees were decorate courtesy of Hallmark and Pier1. I liked it that way. It was bearable.

Last year was our first Christmas with The Knight and his guys. We definitely had clashing opinions. It was all I could do to hold my tongue. I smiled and cringed inwardly as ornament after ornament was placed on the tree. Christmas sucks and nothing happened last year to change my opinion. Nothing.

This year I’ve been allowed to do the basic decorating of the tree. I was even allowed to buy a few ornaments that I liked so that I might feel like I was actually a part of it. Progress. I’ll take progress. It’s not what I would normally do but as adults we compromise. This is a compromise I can live with.

I’ve listened to more Christmas music than ever. Amy Grant, Hall & Oates, The Pretenders all with their tender holiday ballads have opened my eyes to the world of possibilities. I’ve long believed Christmas to be the most romantic time of year. A time for hope and renewal. Now, I’m feeling it.

Mama and Daddy will be here for Christmas Eve. They’ll spend the night and we’ll all be together on Christmas morning. Five children, four adults, my parents new puppy and a sneaking suspicion that this will be the holiday to end all holidays. Don’t tell anyone, but I think that this Ms. Scrooge is softening her heart.

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When I am in pain, it is hard to find relief. Harder still is watching the concern flicker across his face. If at no other time, his love for me is so overwhelmingly obvious as he strokes my skin and whispers his love for me, as I involuntarily roll onto my stomach to try to alleviate some of the discomfort.

This pain is worse than the kind associated with labor and child birth. That kind goes away and when it heads out the door there is a reward at the end. A beautiful gift, a new life to show off and be proud of. When this pain is over, I am hopeful for the gifts it leaves behind. Life to show off and be proud of. Time that, for this very moment, seems to be less plentiful.

Last night I saw the fear in his eyes. I saw worry etched in the lines of his furrowed brow and I heard the heaviness of his heart in each breath. His fear trumped my own as blood poured from my body in the most unnatural way. What kind of selfish woman am I that I don’t set him free? How can I depend so completely on his love, on his presence in my life when it seems that it hangs so precariously in the balance?

His new tactics are disconcerting. When I enter what he calls ‘fight or flight’ mode minus the fight he has taken to holding me. Instead of allowing me to draw us both into a petty argument that is founded in my insecurity and other plentiful neurosis, he draws me into his arms. He’s kissed me full on and challenged my inability to tell him why I’m being the way I’m being.

While neither of us is religious, the last few days brings to mind one of my favorite passages from the Bible.

Love is patient
Love is kind
It does not envy, it does not boast
It is not proud, it is not rude
It is not self-seeking
It is not easily angered
It keeps no record of wrongs

Love does not delight in evil
but rejoices with truth

Love always protects
Love always trusts
Love always hopes

Love always perseveres

Love bears all things

Believes all things

Hopes all things

Endures all things

Love never ends

Love never fails

I love him with all that I have and all that I am. When I received payment for an article yesterday (the largest to date) he was genuinely happy for me. He understood so much more than my words conveyed. It’s slowly starting to occur on me that this is what it’s all about. It isn’t the house cleaning that I do or the laundry that is washed. It’s how we are with one another, how we are when we pull together and come shining through in all our glory.

Enough for now. Our bed is still warm. His arms are waiting. His heart is calling my name and finally, I am ready to answer.

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I’m not going to let the fear get the best of me. I’m going to reach out, meet him half way and take the hand he’s offering. Life is too short for what-ifs and maybes. No more running scared, no more second guessing. So I guess it’s my turn to hope and pray that he’ll have a little faith in me.

When the road gets dark
And you can no longer see
Let my love throw a spark
Have a little faith in me

And when the tears you cry
Are all you can believe
Just give these loving arms a try baby and
Have a little faith, faith in me

Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me, oh and
Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith, faith in me

When your secret heart
Cannot speak so easily
Come here baby, from a whisper start
To have a little faith in me

And when your back’s against the wall
Just turn around and you, you will see
I will catch your, I will catch your fall just
Have a little faith, faith in me

Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith, faith in me

I’ve been loving you for such a long, long time
Expecting nothing in return
Just for you to have a little faith in me
You see time, time is our friend
Cos for us there is no end
All you gotta do is have a little faith in me

I will hold you up, I will hold you up and
Your love gives me strength enough to
Have a little faith in me
Oh faith, darlin’

Have a little faith in me

Mandy Moore- Have A Little Faith In Me

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My friends at EdenFantasys have set up a wonderful place for people everywhere to go and find out new things. It’s in blog form and it offers advice and suggestions for those who are interested. Titled Romance Guides, it does just as it promises. It’s well written and hopefully well read. Though I’m not sure what the update schedule is, I checked it out again today, just to see.

I found a piece titled The Men From The Boys and I was blown away. Sometimes things hit home when you least expect it, when you don’t even realize that you were thinking and wondering about it. Read it. Mull it over a bit. Then tell me what you think. Once I get your opinions, I’ll post my own.

{For those of you interested in surprising your special someone with a naughty gift for the holidays, a birthday, or anniversary please click the links or banners in my side bar. You can also go here. Great toys, great gifts, amazing prices- what more can you ask for?}

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Last night I had a bit of a meltdown. I freely admit it is all in my head. NEVER, not EVER, had The Knight ever said or done a single thing to make me think of myself as anything less than attractive. The issue is mine and mine alone. However, the issue was less of an issue before I met The Knight than it is now.

I’ve said it a million times, so I might as well say it again-

I’m a fat chick. I. Am. A. Fat. Chick.

Before I met The Knight I loved my body. Not all of it, but for the most part I embraced my curves. My extra abdominal padding reminded me that I had successfully carried two beautiful babies safely until time to give birth without pain medicine. My thick legs and muscular calves carried me everywhere I needed to go and they looked great perched on a pair of strappy platform heels. My breasts were aging but still acceptable when tucked into a shelf bra that did wonders with my natural cleavage. I never had trouble getting a date or even picked up when my friends and I braved a bar or club. I was under no illusion that I would ever win any beauty pageants, but I was ok with my body, ok with myself.

Enter The Knight. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a well built physique that women all around admire when we go out. He carries himself with confidence and the man has seriously never had a single shortcoming in the time I have known him. It makes me want him in the worst way- right along side the annoyingly flirtatious little bitch in Best Buy.

Suddenly I am aware of my weight, of my out of proportion body with its lumps and bumps. I used to like my ass until The Knight told me that he loved my “big ol’ butt” and now, it is almost as bad as my tummy. He says he wants a real woman and that he loves my curves but I look in the mirror and wonder how anyone can possibly love (or lust) me.

Last night as I spread his legs and worshiped his cock with my mouth and tongue I knew he was hot. Extremely turned on in a way that he hasn’t been in a while. I was dripping wet and feeling more than a little hot myself. Nothing in the world would have been more sexually intense than to have rolled him onto his back and ridden him. But I couldn’t. Oh, I’m sure I was physically capable, but I couldn’t.

I had this vision running through my head where I straddled him and as he lost his erection at the sight of the front of my body, he also lost his life because I crushed him to death.

So instead of just enjoying the moment, I ruined it. I assumed the position to take it from behind and for the first time ever, I watched him fuck me from above. For the first time since I have known him I disassociated and it made me sick. Literally sick. When it was over and he had finished in the bathroom I threw up and made my excuses for heading downstairs.

I know that I am the way I am because I have made myself this way. Sperm Donor hated that Mama was overweight, so I ate myself to a body that I thought would repulse him and make the abuse stop. In the years after, being fat was a defense mechanism that I couldn’t get rid of. Oh, I dieted and I lost weight but I was only safe and comfortable when I was at a certain dress size, not a bit smaller.

So here I am. Unable to look or feel even remotely sexy. Completely in love with a man who fell in love with me just the way I am. A man who swears he loves me and finds me attractive but doesn’t touch me or make love with me in certain positions. Sick fuck that I am, I have convinced myself that he doesn’t prefer doggy style sex because it feels the best to him, but because if he fucks me from behind he doesn’t have to look at my face or my fat stomach and saggy breasts. He won’t ever tell me that I repulse him, that he won’t finger fuck me because he has no desire to touch me. He doesn’t have to. I’ve convinced myself of it regardless.

How can I expect him to stay with me? How can I expect him to want to spend the rest of his life with me? If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t touch me. I wouldn’t introduce me to his friends or co-workers either. I wouldn’t make love to me. And I certainly wouldn’t marry me.

I wish someone would tell those people on those “size acceptance” sites that fat is not where it’s at. I wish that someone would tell Mo’Nique that men don’t want fat women. Then, while you’re at it, someone tell Sperm Donor that I’m furious at him for backing me into a corner. Furious because I truly believed that if I was fat he would leave me alone, that he would stop raping me. And I’m furious with myself for believing, for not being intelligent enough at the age of twelve to understand that there was never going to be anything I could do to stop him.

For the first time ever I want, more than anything, to be beautiful. I want to be beautiful and sexy, to be desired and lusted. I want to be loved and accepted, showed off and proud of. For myself but more than that, for him. For The Knight who deserves so much more than I am. I want to be all the things I am in my head and in my heart, instead of the fucked up things I am in reality.

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