Stinky Pinky: Or how to become a lesbian in 34 years

Stinky Pinky: Or how to become a lesbian in 34 years

( 12:21 AM ) Fat Bitch
Charles, Charles, Charles,
You expect me to be coherent enough to "get" what you are trying to tell me after waking me from a sound sleep.
What I got from our conversation is this:
I sell myself short. I am more than what I think I am.

Well sweets...as our policy for the last twenty years is brutal honesty, I respond in that way.

I know what I am. Thus how can I sell myself short? My strengths so far, lie in seduction and telling pretty lies. I'll stick with my strengths. They have served me well to this point.
And eventually, when I finally figure out what it is that I want (wink to Carol)
I'll claim it as my own...or steal it back from whomever took it from me to begin with.

Kisses.

Me

P.S. Even the wanderers grow weary, and must find rest. And sometimes free spirits grow tired of their freedom. Sometimes freedom is more of a burden than a release.
#

      ( 4:08 PM ) Fat Bitch
ARRRGGGHHH

We are both pleasers...but she has the added burden of Catholic guilt.

She actually said...I'm sorry that I'm not what you want me to be.
We're going to kill each other passive-aggressively.

All this over meatloaf? #

      ( 12:31 PM ) Fat Bitch
Ya know how sometimes you say something without thinking...and then you think back to what you said and realize the profound truth of your words. How what you said, off the cuff, with little attention actually, upon reexamination resounds through your body like a church bell at 20 paces?
I told cyn the other day, that the main difference between she and Whitney was that...She didn't NEED me. See, Whitney NEEDED me. She needed me to pay the bills, and put a roof over her head, and make sure she had food, and clean clothes and all that. Not unlike a 31 year old child. But it was deeper than that. She needed me to hold up her wilting ego, and reassure her at every step that she was loved, and adored , and wanted.

Cyn doesn't need me.

What is so bad about that?

I like being needed. #

      ( 6:40 AM ) Fat Bitch
She is asleep in my bed, right this very minute. Curled up...with the blankets hitting her naked back about shoulder blade level. She is snoring softly. I can't believe how beautiful she is while sleeping. She looks so peaceful.
Do I look that peaceful when I am sleeping?
#

( 7:12 AM ) Fat Bitch
Talked to Charles last night. So.......how come talking to him, and others like him from my past, make me wanna go out and be bad? Do I miss those days of randomness so very much ? Do I miss that freedom, that lack of responsibility?
I remember myself as being a kinda fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda girl....going wherever, and with whomever, at the drop of a hat. Back when I was beautiful.
I lived for risk, and instant gratification. Nothing taboo.
Just running...constant running.
Ahhhh. Now there's the catch. What was I running from? AND am I not still running? Now I just run in place. #

( 5:27 AM ) Fat Bitch
Today will be the third time this month that I am having to take my car in to get it fixed. After the last time, I wrote a letter to the owner of the shop that has been fixing (or in this case, NOT fixing ) my car, complaining about their not doing the job right twice now.
I was polite, but firm in expressing my displeasure with their service. He called yesterday, begging me to call him back. He called my cell, my home , and my grandmothers...telling her that he would do whatever it takes to win me back as a customer.
Wadda ya think about that?

I haven't decided what I think yet. I just know I cannot afford not to have my car fixed right the FIRST time I take it in...
however, these people are so very sweet, and polite.
I'm too tired to think about it right now. (yawn)
I just want my car to run right. Is that too much to ask? #

( 6:05 AM ) Fat Bitch
12 days. No cigarettes. Trying to quit. Getting VERY CRANKY.

I see no warning on the nicotine patch label about not rolling the patch up and smoking it.
Hmmmm. Too bad they're not menthol patches. #

( 11:47 AM ) Fat Bitch
Cyn came over last night. After making love, I noticed I was bleeding. I wasn't sore. She hadn't torn me. I was perplexed.
I told her. She said...maybe it's your period. Me? Have a period?
Apparently so. For the first time in oh..7 or 8 years, I am actually having a spontaneous menses. No drugs. No hormones.

I told her this morning, that, yes indeed, she was right.
She found it amusing.

She said..."I guess I made a woman out of you."

Wadda smart ass !!!!
#

( 1:08 PM ) Fat Bitch
Okay, now onto bump number two.

RELIGION. The big R.

Yup, ladies and germs, Cynthia is a Catholic.
NO...not a lapsed Catholic, such as I. A real live, go to church, sin confessing, homily hearing, church picnic going Catholic.
And I adore her for it. I love the fact that she has faith. That's Faith, with a capital "F".
Me? I'm not anything. I don't know that I believe in anything. Me and God, well, we don't talk like we used to.
I remember being little...and how big my faith used to be. I prayed all the time. I did good deeds. I wanted to be a nun for goddness sakes.
Somewhere...some time...I lost all that. I lost faith in my church, I lost faith in God.
I got angry. And bitter.

I have studied religion since I was a pre-teen. Curious about all different kinds of belief systems. I have gone to many different types of services....
Nothing. I felt nothing at all. No calling. No peace. No revelation.

I envy her devotion. But like I feel about sex...if I don't feel it...I ain't gonna fake it.
#

( 9:57 AM ) Fat Bitch
We have come to the first bump in the road. And it's a double bump.

One...Cyn asked me this morning if she is going to be "enough" for me. She means sexually. I told her..."trust me".
I know what I am. I am sexually submissive. Pleasure and pain are one for me. I enjoy the nervous excitement of giving up all control. Vulnerability is an aphrodisiac.
However, I think Cyn thinks that this is the only way I can be satisfied sexually.
No. That is not true.
Submission for me, goes deeper than sex. Yes I am sexually submissive. But the emphasis is on the word submissive. I am submissive to the one I am being sexual with.
In my day to day life I am a quick witted, haughty, smartass, flirt. I take no shit. I stand up for what I believe in and am accountable for what I do. Period.
However, when I am alone with my chosen lover, and the small talk is over...
I want nothing more than to be the one who pleases. To give in, to hand over the control.
In bed...this is more evident. My submission includes masochism.

I think this is what makes her nervous.
But as I have told her, and will continue to tell her until she believes me...

WE will not go where it is to dark for her to be comfortable. But, wherever she wishes me to guide her...I will hold the light.

Next entry will cover the other bump.
#

      ( 1:02 PM ) Fat Bitch
The last poems were from high school and from my very early 20's.

This story is from three years ago...when I first started exploring the D/s world.
I believe it to be FULL of hidden meaning.
I named it after a story that I read by Peter S. Beagle. He wrote a story about a man in love with a female werewolf. I wondered what her side of the story might be. Here is what I came up with.

LILA'S SIDE

He's left the window open for me. He always does.
And tonight, he's stayed awake for me - waiting.
It's not quite dawn. I'll need him. I always do.

My claws scratch the casement as I leap through the window.
I've brought the wind in with me.
I pad across the floor, toward the bed. My musk fills the room. I know that he can smell my desire, and the blood. Though he is in shadow, I can make out his silhouette, and the glow from the end of his cigarette.
He has left the bathroom light on. I move to the square of light at the end of the bed.
He knows that I can see better than he in the dark, but he leaves it on. He is no longer a shadow.
I put my front paws on the foot of the bed. I watch him close his eyes. He cannot stand to watch me change. Even after these two years, I frighten him.
My body contorts, and I stretch to my full height. Rising onto two feet, my front legs lengthen into arms. The roughness of my coat sloughs off to become the softness of skin. My chest molds inward, then outward again to form my high tight breasts. My legs stretch to take human form again. Lastly my face changes... pert ears shrink, snout becomes nose, and wide toothy maw softens to my smaller, less dangerous mouth. My soft yelping turns into softer moans...as the pain slips away. I have returned to full human form. I am weary.

His eyes open, peeking at me. A little smile smooths out the tension in his face.
"You're filthy" he says. "Need help washing up?"
I nod, not ready to speak aloud. I turn to the bathroom as he puts out his cigarette and rises to follow me. I step into the showerstall, and turn on the water, full force. I am filthy. I am streaked with dirt and gore. I fed well tonight.
The hot water courses over my body. I just stand there, letting the heat and steam soak into me. I watch as the water going down the drain carries away the dirt from my travels and the blood from my feast. I bow my head and let the water drench my hair.

He comes in behind me, and closes the shower door. He is smiling. I watch as he grabs the bar of soap from the holder, and holds it under the spray. He turns me around and starts at my back, soaping my shoulders, then downwards to my waist and hips. He kneads my sore muscles and I melt under his touch. Down my ass, and legs he continues to cleanse me. The streaks of mud turn to pink skin as the lather washes away. I turn to face him. He is kneeling down before me, giving most of his attention to removing the filth from my feet. He rises slowly washing the fronts of my legs, my thighs, my belly and breasts. He lathers the soap more, and reaches toward my cunt. Tenatively he washes the delicate skin. I know he wants to ask...but he won't. He hides his jealousy. "It's okay" I say. "I was not in heat this time."

Last month, the full moon coincided with my cycle. It doesn't happen often. But when it does, I have no control. My scent attracts the neighborhood dogs. I can only do so much in my other form. I cannot control my animal nature. When the heat comes on, I mate. He tries to understand this infidelity. I explain that there is no emotion involved with it. I come home to him for my emotional fulfillment. The dogs are nothing to me. Even my one and only encounter with another like myself, one of my own mutation, was nothing more than a mating. I cannot hope for his understanding. Only his acceptance.
My body, clean now, he quickly gives himself a going over with the soap. I step out of the showerwhile he does so, and towel off. I am tired, but the night is not over yet. Only one of my hungers has been sated. It is time to quell the other.
He finishes in the shower, and dries off. He follows me back into the bedroom. We get into bed, and snuggle down beneath the sheets. I reach for him. He is already hard. I kiss his open mouth, searching him with my tongue. I bite gently on his lips. He molds my breast with his hands. My hunger flares. I straddle his hips and guide him inside me. He raises his hips and begins the rythm. I can feel how much he wants me.
I cannot help but wonder sometimes, though. Is it me in this form that excites him so?
Or is it the lingering musk of the wolf? #

      ( 12:49 PM ) Fat Bitch
Going through the spare room I have found a bunch of old writings. Lucky you.

The following are an example of REALLY bad poetry from high school.
Read on, but remember...I warned you.

OVER

Not the look on your face
Nor the withdrawal of your touch,
Not the turn of your back.
The silence said it,
After my I love you.

OLD and NEW

New friends, new love,
new problems, old me.
For what I'm now missing is a new me to be.

BOXES (this one was for Sue)

In my mind
I have boxes,
Many boxes
Full of me.
I opened all my boxes
each one
for you to see.

All my boxes
had broken pieces
little pieces of my past
and you waited
quiet, watching
from the first box, to the last.

I cried,
you brushed the tears away,
and poured my boxes on the floor
you mended all the pieces
Now I'm not broken anymore.

DO YOU BELIEVE?

Do you believe as I my love?
Do you believe in me?
Do you see in shadow light,
the same things that I see?
Do you believe in destiny?
In mystery?
In light?
Do you believe in love's true strength?
And thus in love's true fight?
Do you believe?
Say you do...believe.
And then I will be strong
To wait the coming darkness,
Thru night, however long.

WAVES (this one was for Larry)

In love, I wrote your name in the sand.
But the waves knew better than I.

#

      ( 10:41 AM ) Fat Bitch
Okay...several topics today kids, so grab a cuppa and settle on in.

Kathleen just brought ANOTHER load of her shit over here for me to store for her. Problem? YES. Because? I have been hesitant in getting the spare room cleaned out. Why? It's all the stuff Whitney and I had together...knick knacks, pictures, silly stuff....memories mostly. I don't wanna go through that right now.
So my living room looks like a freaking warehouse...and I walk in to the spare room and...just stare. I don't even know where to begin. I really don't. AND Kat is coming back Friday with another load. Fuck me.
Cyn is fussing at me because she is being protective. She doesn't want Kat (or anybody else, for that matter) to take advantage of my soft heart. I don't know how soft my heart is. I just know that Kat needs a place to put her shit, and I have space. If I can only face the demons of my own shit. Ugh.

Next subject please....
While on our lovely weekend away, Cyn asked me if I missed Whitney. I said of course I do. Then I amended my statement. I miss things about her. I miss having someone to come home to. I'm not very good at this "alone" thing. I'm really not. I don't like it.
I HATE it. I also miss her sense of humor. We could be so silly together. Singing in the car...making up songs and rhymes. Laughing til we both about peed in our pants.
But like I told Viv yesterday, I do not think that I have made a mistake. I know that this is for the best. I just haven't adjusted to the idea of not being Kim and Whitney anymore. For ten years, we were Kim and Whitney. Now I'm just Kim.
It's sweet that Cyn asked...she's just trying to help me heal. But I want to tell her not to. I need to do this on my own.

Which leads us to the next subject.
Now that I AM on my own, I've got some fixing up to do. Oh, around this house yes. But more so around this heart. She says I have time to do it now. She says I'm tougher now than I was when i went in for the first time 3 years ago...doing my tough girl act. I don't feel very tough. I feel tiny. And scared. And oh so very vulnerable.

And now...instead of doing my famous disappearing act...I know that this time...I have to stand up, and not run, and not hide. Cause I have nowhere else to go.
I'm trapped in my own head. And there is only one way out. The hard way.

#

( 7:28 AM ) Fat Bitch
I have come to the conclusion that I think too much. I worry too much. I get something good going in my life and I over-analyze it. I never just sit back and enjoy the ride.
I need to learn to do that. Enjoy the ride...hang my head out the window and let the wind blow through my hair. I need to observe the scenery, watch the little life plays of other people, and just sit...with an empty mind .

I need to stop thinking. I need to learn how to feel. #

( 5:23 AM ) Fat Bitch
Got back from Flint Creek yesterday. Had a lovely time. Other than the dunking in the lake I took (twice), it wasn't bad. Heck...even the dunking didn't suck, as it was quite amusing.
I get the feeling though, that we were both acting on our best behavior. Cyn was sweet and kind and loving the whole time. We laughed and joked and snuggled and etc.
I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop though. I warned her when we first started all this, that I am a fatalist. In the end, somehow, we will drive each other away.
I just don't think that I am meant to love someone forever, and that I will die alone.
Sad huh? No, just being realistic.
I cannot maintain a happy realtionship with anyone, for any given time. Prior to Whitney...I changed lovers almost as often as I changed underwear. Whitney wasn't any different than her predecessors. I had just lost the ability to stand up for myself and tell her to go.
I guess Vivian is right in the fact that I have lost my ability to say "no". I need to get that back. I have lots of things I need to say "no" to. The funniest part (funny weird, not funny HA HA) is that soooo many people that get to know me say that I am strong. That I am the strongest person they know. Cyn says that. Maybe that will be the reason she leaves. She will find out how weak I really am. #

( 3:16 PM ) Fat Bitch
Okay. time for a quick Kim inventory.

Where am I, right now brain and heart wise....?

Dating Cyn. That's a good thing. We mesh well. I like her. A lot.
There are so many levels to her. I'm enjoying discovering her. Not too many red flags yet. I'm still a bit unsure about her not being "out" yet. I'm being patient and supportive. It will come in time.
She has told her dad about me. That's a good first step. But she is reluctant to spend the night, if she knows he knows that's what she is doing. I told her the other night that I do expect to be included in her life fully, as she will be in mine. My family will accept her and bring her into the fold. But I am lucky. My family is not judgemental of my life or of my choices. They express their opinions, but are generally happy when they know I am happy. I couldn't ask for more. Her family, however is not as open with one another, though as mine is. I recognize this. And am okay with
it. For now.
But...I am not ashamed of who I am orientation-wise. If I love a woman, I love a woman. There ya go. And I'm not going to hide.
I won't allow her to either. That may sound harsh. But I won't be hidden....
I won't be a dirty little secret.

But I'll wait. And see how it goes.

On other fronts....

Carol and I are still good. I do truly consider her a friend. I love talking to her.
And....she claims dibs. LOL. If and when I am ever single again....I'm hers. To do with as she wills. (Oh goody !!!!)
She amused me by saying that she is interested in meeting me in the flesh. To find out if I am as "perfect" as I seem. LOL
Perfect? As a lover, sex toy, submissive...perhaps. I'll let her judge.
Still...the very idea of someone thinking me perfect gives me the giggles. I am so far from perfect in so many ways.
But ... I do know that if and when a time ever comes that she and I are "together"...
I'm gonna knock her socks off. Or give it my damndest in the attempt.

How so like me to have one waiting in the wings....
See....not so perfect. I'm terribly greedy.

And lastly.... thoughts on living alone.
It's strange. I've never done it before.
I am responsible for just me for a change. My house is spotless.
I'm making plans to fix up this house. I have goals. I've never had goals.
Maybe it's not so very bad after all. Quiet. But not bad.

#

( 7:45 AM ) Fat Bitch
Cyn and I didn't get to to to New Orleans due to a fuck-up at work. She handled it well.

I made dinner, she stayed over. It was nice.

Next weekend is Flint Creek. 4 whole days, alone, with Cyn. No interruptions. No schedules. No reason not to freak out and panic. 4 days alone with a woman that I have become incredibly fond of, but am still being "good Kim" around. Eek. Down...down "evil Kim". No naughtiness from you ! #

( 7:53 AM ) Fat Bitch
I'm supposed to do this worksheet thing for Vivian. some kind of life history doodad. It tracks your most significant memories from ages 0-3, 4-6, 7-12, 13-18, etc....
I told her that I hate doing things like this. homework for therapy...ugh.
This is probably the most difficult assignment thus far though. As much as i like revisiting the past for some things, this life history, I have a feeling, is meant more to delve into memories I'm not all that sure I wanna get to.

BBL Cyn is here. Gonna go eat...breakfast... LOL

#

Your silence will not protect you (Audre Lord)