I have I think mentioned how I used to be quite an anxious person. I had a mental breakdown in 2005 following my fathers sudden death following a heart attack, and a few other events which just became too much for me to deal with.
Prior to 2005 those who knew me would describe me as a bubbly, confident woman with an outgoing personality who loved to socialise. They would have all been wrong.
For years I wore a mask. I hid my true nature and behaved how I had been ‘taught’ – mainly by my mum. She expected me to be all the things I have described, but instead of encouraging me, building my confidence that I was ok however I chose to be, if I was ‘quiet’ I was admonished for being ‘miserable’. As I became a young woman my body confidence was equally shattered. My step father would tell me I had ‘nothing to fill that dress’ referring to my breasts, and that I had my mums ‘fat arse’. Needless to say I had no cause to believe I had a pleasing appearance. I should say I had the perfect classic hourglass shape of 34-24-34 at the time.
When I met my now husband MrH my body confidence was pretty good (or so it appeared) my breasts had blossomed after the birth of my son and I had my mask firmly in place. My breasts were my best feature (I thought).
MrH was one of 4 men in my college class. The other 3 were, well not my type, but they were obviously quite admiring of my appearance. MrH seemed quite unaffected by a glimpse of cleavage and this puzzled me, challenged me. I inexpertly pursued him. Eventually asking him to ‘help me move some wardrobes’ in order to lure him to my house. I was, I suppose, the aggressor but MrH remained in control of the pace. Despite my best efforts to entice him into bed, he resisted for about 3 weeks.
As our relationship progressed MrH remained in control although at the time I didn’t realise that. Three years in we had a baby and the following year we married. In all that time when ever I was in company my mask remained. I suspect now that he always knew I had this mask as I probably behaved differently at home but I’m not sure that I ever truly relaxed fully around him.
The breakdown forced me to look at why I felt I had to wear this mask and I slowly learned to ‘be myself’ and that this woman was worth knowing.
It took me 5 years to recover enough to return to work. By this time I had put weight on through comfort eating. I had also developed back pain which made exercise difficult.
My body confidence was not good. I constantly feared that my attractive, loving, strong husband would tire of the weak, fat, ugly woman he had married. No matter how much he reassured me that he still found me sexy and attractive- I was disgusted by my body.
Following a hysterectomy I have been successful in loosing 5 stones and I feel fantastic. I don’t have a magazine perfect body but it’s pretty awsome for all we’ve been through. I’ve not felt more comfortable in my own skin than I have since I lost 4 stone and getting the 5 stone award was fabulous.
Even then it took me several months to gather the courage to approach MrH about my desire to be submissive and for us to explore BDSM.
Initially I experienced an emotional rollercoaster, and I will talk about that separately. What I wasn’t expecting was how handing the control to MrH would free me. I come into his sphere and my body calms. At work I can get anxious, so much to do, so little time, anxious. But, as soon as I set off home it’s gone. I feel sexy and beautiful. MrH tells me I am and finally I trust him enough to believe him. I see from the pleasure he takes from my body, from the pleasure he gives me, from the way he cares for my wellbeing that I am beautiful. I feel cherished and I am finally at peace with myself.