2017: Twelve Months of a Determined Me
I decided before Christmas, as I downed boxes of candy and put on boxes of pounds,
that I needed to get serious about getting to a place where I felt:
- Comfortable in my clothes
- Naturally energetic
- Fit and fabulous
I told Eric "I want to go a whole year exercising every possible day and living without caffeine or sugar. I want you to hold me accountable."
He said nothing but wished me luck with that one.
I made it through Christmas without so much as a chocolate or coffee.
I went past New Years without a nibble or a taste.
Eric and I had a serious conversation.
"I want you to learn moderation, honey."
True. I won't eat one bite size snickers. I'll eat the whole box.
"I'm not ready for moderation," I exclaimed. "I'm still on the all or nothing plan."
The subject was dropped but my husband did say how impressed he was that I'd make it thus far.
Days later, Eric introduced me to SpankingTube and we watched a few videos to get a feel for what other people do.
"Find me a video that blows you away," he challenged.
I did. Seven minutes. She didn't pack for a trip, disregarding his constant reminders. Seven minutes. She is dressed, across his lap, spanked time and time again as he lectures. Eventually she can't take it anymore and he stops, only to remove her pants and begin again. Bottom red, she apologizes and he lays her over a bench and takes off his belt. The whipping begins again. One after the other, after the other. I was safely fascinated; knowing full well that I was not in trouble and that Eric had never gone to that extreme with me.
We watched the full seven minutes together and talked about what had happened.
"Are you still doing your no sugar, no caffeine thing?" Eric asked.
I nodded, happily ready to move onto something else.
"Seven minutes," he stated sternly. "A bite of sugar, a drop of caffeine, and we will pull out this video and follow it precisely."
I've almost gone three weeks but today was surprisingly difficult. I had the opportunity for a large snickers with the odds of Eric finding out, slim to none.
"Seven minutes," I told myself. "Do you really want that seven just to eat some crap?"
My ass gave a resounding NO.
This just might work.