Free

I'd like to be free. I sometimes think I am, but perhaps that is a figment of my very wild imagination. Because beneath all that lie chains, cuffs and also a collar. And yet I still keep believing that in slavery lies total freedom. Now that's a very mad thought. But so true. Because the collared one is the one who calls the shots. There never really is a dominant creature to subdue another. Better put, no dominant creature will ever throw me in submission. And that is a swell thought. A supposedly subdued creature can decide to go against the grain of obedience, and thus leaving no choice for the dominant one. We all have roles. A dominant role is to keep up with his dominance. A sub's role is to submit, but then she can very well decide not to and make the dominant work very hard. Because a dominant likes to think he is ruling his counterpart. He's not... not ever....

Monthly sufferings

Mother's Day again. And life has decided to remind me that I'm no mum. Because apart from the non Coitus Interruptus sex, there is another thing which is synonymous with the start of motherhood; a missing menstruation. So just in case I was about to get all mushy about feeling motherly to my cats, life decided to give me a stark reminder by just giving me the dreaded flow. Life's a bitch innit? But then why all this obsession about motherhood when I do not care for my own kids. I like little people, I love them to bits too sometimes, but that is when they have their own mum. Not mine. I could never afford to have my own little people, because as selfish as it may sound, I have my lifestyle and I am not about to let anybody mess that up. It's enough having to swear at the once a month flow which interrupts everything. It makes my skin dull, gives me a headache, cramps, and a very bad mood. And I am in exactly that same mood. A foul mood where I could gladly take a shotgun, aim it at Mickey Mouse and fire it if only to spoil other people's fun. On days like this I am best left alone. Because I can be a bitch, a pain in the ass, a pain in the neck... a pain everywhere. I just see everything upside down, in such a manner that would make old Walt proud. I seriously contemplate tying or cutting off whatever's in there, whatever is causing all of this. And I secretly contemplate a sex change op, when I am just trying to make other people understand the dull ache that's in me that's all. But my explaining skills start and end in the classroom, I do not take them away with me. Rather I sit and seethe and dream vengeance on Eve. She just had to want the flipping apple didn't she? Selfish bitch. Some time ago I heard the silliest explanation my pretty ears had ever had. It wasn't really the apple after all. Eve could have taken mango, peaches, melons, coconuts... anything. It was a question of sex. No, not apple sex. But anal sex. The explanation went on the lines of.... Adam and Eve wanted to have anal sex and since God didn't allow that then he flew off the handle and decided to teach Eve a lesson. What a non plausible reason. If that were true, then why didn't Adam suffer some form of STD as a punishment too? Takes 2 to tango, and at least 2 for anal sex, both parties would be involved, hence punishable. And wherever did God cite wrath for anal sex? Does God really care if it's up the arse or not? Who would that be hurting? Nobody except for the female (or male) wincer, the one who is on the receiving end. Nobody else. And although xxx rated movies give out the message the women are really keen on this kind of sex, think again. It's a total myth. No girl wants to feel her insides ruptured. That's no nice sex. What is all this, did it really boil down to Adam popping Eve's anal cherry? I have my doubts. Because it that were true, then Eve could get away with it and sue for anal rape since the one doing the action would have been Adam. And yet it's Eve and us who have got punished for it. And although sometimes I like to think that God is female, well, would a female God inflict such pain for endless years to come, on other females? The answer is no at first glance, but then if God were female, well, what about a female bitchy Goddess to twist the tale? Possibilities are endless. But I could spend years speculating, and the answer is still the same. Suffer all ye females!

To our mummy

I've done my duty. I did go to my mum's for mother day's lunch. Not that it was all about her. It was all about my twin and I squabbling about hair stylists. He called me a cow, I called him a bony bat... just like old days. Time has stood still for us in that respect. I am not liking the way this is going. Yes I acknowledge that the twin has become successful and filthy rich while I struggle with my electricity bill, but he will not throw the little weight he has around me. He tries, he tried hard today. But it doesn't work when your twin (me) is double your size and is right about everything. Yes I am right about everything, that's how it is, that's how it always will be. I will not be stood up. That's it. But my shelf is missing a card. If all other women get Mother's Day cards, then why should I be missing out? So what if my vaginal insides have never given birth to an actual creature. adoptive mums also get Mother's day cards. And no, I do not want to cope with feeding and diaper-changing regimes. I just want the damn card. It would go, to our mummy from Ding, Dong, Othello, Tancred, Bagheera, Mimi`, Lady, Fluke and Junky. And it would make me very happy too. Pity animals cannot write. But mine will one day, because they're so special, because they're mine.

Mama's Day?

Today is Mother's Day. And I don't like it one bit. I never do. It will become all very flowery. And heavily scented. And I still don't like it. Diamonds do not feature in Mother's Day either. The best you can get is pearls. And I'm ok with that, I like pearls too, because they signify tears. And if I could have a pearl for every tear I've shed then all jewellers would go bust. Because I have laughed and cried too. I am a silly queen who has seen her fair share of stuff, but decide to major in sex instead. At least usually. And here it is again. Mums, mothers, surrogate mothers, adoptive mothers, all mums. But after we've all read the soppy cards and smelt the flowers, can we just wake up and smell the coffee instead? We are honouring women who have had sex. Because that is were babies come from and babies make you a mum. And a lot of them will have done it 'mistakenly'. And it was the day when I didn't have a choice. My mother didn't lie down and ask me if I really wanted to see this world. And no other mum did. And yet we still decide to shower them with gifts and declare a day for them. It's just the same a Sex Day. And forget sour grapes. I have done the same thing and not felt a need for the world to honour me with a day. Because the rest of the 364 days are all declared My Day.