Ladylike
There was a time when I pretended that I didn’t poop. I mean, how ladylike is pooping?!
I don’t even like the word. Poop.
I’m not sure why anything and everything bathroom related became a major embarrassment to me. There are no traumatic events surrounding bathroom activities in my childhood that I can remember. But, nevertheless, I much prefer doing “my business” in an empty house.
That could be why asking for permission to use the bathroom was such a stumbling block for me though. Here I was, pretending that I didn’t do “that” anyway, now having to announce it. Not only would Master know for sure that I do indeed do “that”, but he also knows when and for how long and how often.
Mortifying I tell you.
I’m over it now anyway. What was once a stammering, blushing, eye-contact-avoiding plea is now a loud-and-proud announcement. Yay for progress, eh?
Just last night, in the midst of some hugging and kissing, I hopped up and gleefully announced “I gotta poop!” It really wasn’t until I saw the amused look on his face that it dawned on me that I’d ruined the romantic moment. I laughed and asked, as I was racing from the room, “Bet you miss those days when I was all shy and coy about it, huh?”
So, I’m normal. I poop. Big deal.
But.. I don’t fart. I swear! I’m not ready to admit that one yet.
Truthfully, living in a house with two males who find odiferous body gasses to be the funniest thing ever, I can honestly say that I don’t fart like they do. My God… the pair of them contribute to at least half of the ozone depletion.
Master claims I fart in my sleep but I don’t believe him. If I’m not aware of it it’s simply not true.
Given the fact that I’ve only recently come to terms with admitting that my bodily functions perform like everyone elses, the very idea of having to ask *permission* to fart just blows my mind (no pun intended. *snicker*) . I’m tossed back into Mortified Alley at the thought.
It’s one thing to sneak one off, silently and privately, while trapped alone in a cage or behind the thick door of the cupboard. It’s one thing to pretend to need something from the other room and disapear for a quick second. It’s one thing to hold it in all day and let your body take care of itself while you sleep. It’s entirely another thing to have to ask to do it, to draw that attention to it, to have an audience listening for it.
That’s seriously a new level of mortification.
Which is why, when I read this post from slut on display, I was cracking the hell UP, in mortified, omg-i-hope-Master-never-reads-this-shit, embarrassed glee. Seriously.. go read it. I admire this woman beyond all measure because I think, in her place, I may have blown up before obeying.
And then to be told it was “cute”. Too fucking funny. I loved it.
Ladies do not fart. Unless they are sleeping. *snicker*
~cunt
Uncategorized | kaya | 
Tuesday December 18th, 2007 10:23am
yanno, kaya, i think this is one of those days when i am glad as hell that bodily functions just don’t bother me….
How ya been chickie?
~His pet~
Ladies do not fart nor do they sweat they poof and dew.. That is one thing my grandmother used to claim *giggle* ..Thanks for the smile this am i needed it
thanks for amusing me this morning
i, of course, never have bodily functions.
xo
I always tug on Master’s ear before I “break wind.” It gives him a warning.
Ignore pony’s comment. She is wrong. It’s not cool. Sometimes it’s funny, but not cool.
But believe it or not, I was with my ex-wife for almost 12 years. During that time I NEVER heard or smelled her fart (except when she was in labor).
It sucks having to admit you have all those same bodily functions as anyone else does when you’ve lived with someone for a long time. I, personally, have to ask permission to use the bathroom. And it sucks when I’m sick or have an upset stomach, because I then have to tell Master that I am constipated, or um… other embarrassing things. He has never made fun of me for it, or anything, but still! I am His slut damnit, I’m not supposed to do all those “icky” things. Thankfully when my stomach is very upset Master will usually just tell me to use the bathroom when I need to instead of asking permission, as He sees it as a health concern.
M always teases me because I “stealth pooped” for a long time. Even after he wanted me to request permission to go to the bathroom, I generally didn’t distinguish between the two, I just said I had to go. Of course, he caught on really quickly, and seems quite pleased now in staring at me until I start squirming, and then asking me to specify whether I have to poop or pee.
Ergh, I get embarrassed even typing that.
I’d be asking constantly LOL I have IBS.
FORGET THAT SHIT LOL…
jen
I do not poop or fart, thank you very much.
You have no idea how much this tickled me. It was dangerously close to a page from my own non-existent journal. Cheers!
Funny?! Nah, not so much.
“I hopped up and gleefully announced “I gotta poop!” It really wasn’t until I saw the amused look on his face that it dawned on me that I’d ruined the romantic moment.”
Now *that* is what I call funny
But seriously, isn’t it amazing to what extent they change us? I’m suppose that I’m usually too busy being anxious, whining, whatever to be aware of it, until I read something like this that is. Thank you.
(Sorry for the typo, it’s still early over here.)
I fart but I like to be very quiet about it
I think its just what happens when you find yourself in a room full of men and not a single one of them gives a crap if you’re ladylike.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-OIgXyvzUU