Sand Not Skin

I’ve mentioned a few times that over the course of the past several months, I’ve felt all my old “armor” has been striped away. I feel raw and exposed, yet safe and protected, able to express myself freely. The flip side of that is that I also feel as if I am walking around with skin made of sand, my emotions barely contained, just below that sandy surface. The slightest wind or rustle blows it all away, exposing me, bare naked. There is still a part of me that jerks to embarrassment and feels weak. I can usually get over that pretty quickly, but not always. I feel so strongly now, bursting almost. It is a gift and a curse at once.

So many things in my life have changed, it’s almost overwhelming some days. I think that’s part of why I am so emotional, getting used to the changes, feeling comfortable in my own skin, living mindfully to please him. One of the biggest changes I’ve experienced is with my body. I’ve lost a lot of weight over the past few years. I was heavy, bigger than him. I really didn’t like myself for a really long time and it showed. Now, I’m 5 sizes smaller than when we married. I’m smaller than him and feel wonderful all the time. However, it’s still easy sometimes to feel like that woman who was big, stuffed with all that ugliness.

Along with those raw emotions, I have a guilt that surfaces sometimes. I often feel like Pavlov, like I trained my husband to walk on eggshells, always trying to please me so he didn’t have to suffer the consequences of pissing me off. That manipulative nature is still there, I just don’t listen to it anymore. I recognize it and choose another behavior instead, most of the time.

All this relates to the control/compliance dynamic for us and here is an example from today. I don’t have many clothes. I have to ask for things now, so he went with me to buy one pair of jeans. I choose some skinny jeans to try on, out of the norm for me. I’ve never owned any nor would I ever have felt comfortable trying them on. But, now I can, I’m much more confident. What I want most is to look good for him. I really don’t care at all what anyone else thinks. He has expressed a desire to help me choose my garments, thus him coming along. So, I put the jeans on, consider that they look much different than anything I’ve ever owned, but I like them. They feel good and they’re cheap. I open the door to where he’s sitting and ask what he thinks. He replies, “I like them, but they’re tight.” My brain instantly decides this is negative, but I don’t get angry or hurt just yet. I ask him what he means, could he elaborate. He says they look good, but not comfortable. Again, I’m wondering….is he worried about how they feel or is he saying they’re too tight and maybe I need a bigger size. Dammit, this is complicated and it shouldn’t be. Do they look good or not, it’s simple, right? So I tell him this, “Don’t worry about how they feel, I will worry about that. I just want to know of you like the way they look.” And, again, he repeats what he’s already said. I don’t get angry or lash out. I simply say thanks and shut the door. And cry. Big, ridiculous tears in the damn dressing room. That insecure woman inside is wondering why I can’t just take what he’s saying at face value. The guilty woman inside is wondering why he can’t just answer without worrying about my comfort first, I’ve had a hand in why he can’t just have his own opinion. And I’m so damn naked and raw I just keep crying. Over jeans. I wipe away the tears, pack up and don’t buy anything. I don’t pout or stay angry. But, he knows something isn’t right. Our daughter came back from strolling the store, so we tabled the discussion.

A bit later we talk. I tell him about the guilt I feel. I tell him I really just want to please him and wear things he likes. He tells me he does worry about my comfort, not just how the stupid jeans feel, but that he’d feel selfish telling me to buy something he likes but I’d feel self-conscious in. He also reminds me that he’s a grown man with a mind of his own and he can think for himself. I promise to never say I like something if I don’t. He promises to tell me if he likes it with no qualifiers. We both apologize and agree that we’re still learning and it’s over. Just like that.

Then, he ambushes me in the bathroom, bends me over the sink, gives me several crazy hard spanks and brings me pleasure and release so quickly I was stunned and lightheaded. I guess that’s make up sex, right?

One thought on “Sand Not Skin

  1. So much of this sounds like The Boss and where we used to be. The wonderful thing is how he’s changed since I stopped allowing my moods to dominate us both. He’s his own strong self now, with no hidden preferences. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care for my comfort, happiness and everything else that’s good for me. In fact, it’s easier for him to care and show it now because it’s all honest and true, not manipulated either way.

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