|Get it? It's a shoe-horn.|
With a long handle.
Not sure anyone really wants to know about how I write my posts (not sure even I want to) but that's how it is. So, yes, my plan was to discuss the dreams I've had recently and what I thought this might mean in the wider context of things happening in my life right now - even using this as a segue to discuss some of the more powerful metaphors used by Abigail Thorn that I found useful to me and how I can use them myself.
But, at the same time, I hit a bit of a brick wall a couple of days ago and the black dog that stalks these pages came to have a visit. I'm still in chastity (three weeks as of 8pm last night) and hit the point of that where I just feel down. No details here, this is just the preamble. Along with some rain soaking through an outside wall, a small but persistent leak in the roof, continued issues with the bathroom, my mother's response to the Girlie announcing she was bi (well, to me telling her about it) and a feeling that I was back in the trenches of that war because it was all I've ever known and maybe I shouldn't be leaving it whilst the fighting was going on and what did I think anyway thinking I could change things?
|And here it is. FaceApp struggled for|
Starting there, then, this was something of a surprise. Up until now I have tended toward clothing that is... well, not designed primarily for comfort. Or... I don't know. This was soft, light, airy, and it fit. I wasn't ready for the delight of looking down and seeing that unicorn, seeing the glitter (I hadn't spotted it had glitter when I bought it) sparkle in the light. The legend: Stay Magical. Just... the feel of it. The colour, not my usual choice (I tend toward burgundy, red, purple and pink) being baby (powder?) blue, was just wonderful. I cannot adequately explain how I felt. I do know that once woken in the night by chastity (once a night is normal) that lovely feeling made it hard not to be woken twice more. At least, I think the two are connected, there may be nothing more than happening at the same time. But, here's the kicker, it was more important to me that I was feeling so good and comfortable and happy and soft and warm and comforted in that wonderful nightie than it was that I was missing sleep. I have woken up today in the most wonderful mood.
|Better look at the design here. Shame|
about the hair. Wish it were that long.
But I love it. Genuinely. Totally.
Watching the Philosophy Tube videos was interesting too. I watched the one on Identity with a Strawberry Daiquari whilst cooking a Thai-style green chicken curry with rice. I watched the ones of suicide and trauma, in reverse order, whilst I ate. I was dressed in the new t-shirt (pink, and black butterflies on a white background) beneath my dungaree dress (because of course) and my sheer tights from Snag - that I had worn at work beforehand. Obviously I was wearing a stuffed bra (I wore my bralette to work) as well. After tea I switched my slippers for my boots (I have waxed lyrical about them many times) and then phoned my mother. It... helped.
|Lovin' would be easy if yer colours were like|
my dream. Red gold and green; red gold and green.
|Where we had our day out on the|
Sunday. Lovely place.
I didn't dress on Sunday. I had a bath at the end of the day and spent about an hour, maybe two, shaving my legs and top half. Drinking a rose wine and then my mother rang. She was sad about various things and looking for somewhere safe to vent. So that was me, which is an honour in many ways, but it did mean that I couldn't dress (being on the phone) and everything slowed down. I ended up in my chemise and in my bed, but without any chance to really focus on the feelings. It had been a good, but tiring, weekend. I hadn't had chance to dress, one of my testicles slipped out of the cage (and I managed to push it back in, basically I was too flaccid) and then I missed my chance to pick up milk and cereal because I was dropping children back later than billed at Tilly's request. Then I charged the car and had a very late tea as a result. Then I had that bath and spent ages shaving and then the phone call with my mother.
I don't do DIY. I grouted my tiles to try and aid waterproofing the bathroom and there's still enough of a leak to make the repaired bits of the kitchen soft to the touch. It meant that I didn't wash my hair until Monday morning and thus I was later than planned to work with my tights and bralette.
Dreams will wait for another post now, I feel. The main message of this one is the nightie, the surprising euphoria it brought and a broken night.