Poop Cake. Or… Something deeper.

My eyes haven’t forgiven me yet. I’ve still not recovered from the chocolate-poop association. I could be traumatized forever!

I saw a poop cake in the bakery section of our local Piggly Wiggly. I’ve never considered myself to be prudish… but I gotta tell ya. Seeing a poop cake has had me gobsmacked ever since.

It was large, tall and fat, all swirled up tubes of chocolate frosting, with big plastic flies stuck on it. And peanuts scattered here and there. And corn kernels.

*blink blink blink*

I was torn between wanting to buy it (it was chocolate after all) and knowing that if I did, I’d not be able to eat it anyway. I may *know* it’s not poop, but it looked like poop. Scat is not my thing. No how no way. Not even pretend.

I’ve seen boob cakes and dick cakes and pussy cakes (in adult settings!) but never shit cakes. It seems wrong somehow to have a poop cake in a Piggly Wiggly.

(I found a picture of a similar cake here. Apparently, I had missed the entire poop cake phenomena until now.)

But that’s not really what I wanted to post about. I just had to get it out though because… gobsmacked I tell ya.

I wanted to talk about a comment that I got that really made a LOT of sense to me. Something that has put my mind at ease in a big way. From l{Fh}:

Part of surviving intact as ‘differently minded’ (IE not vanilla mentality) requires a certain degree of stubbornness. [...] That takes someone who isn’t going to compromise on life. [...]So why is it surprising that this fine honed survival skill has side effects and drifts into our slave life? It’s the natural residue, if you like, of getting this far intact as WHO YOU ARE. If we were all that submissive we would have given in to the social status quo years ago and not said boo to M/s.

I think that is the most profound thing I’ve heard in quite some time. It’s absolutely correct. The determination to get the life that I want is how I got here. What sense does it make that I would then roll over and play dead just because I’m (almost) here? I’m *still* fighting, determined to get what I came for.

If it weren’t important enough to me to fight for, to work for, I’d have given up a LONG time ago. Being different, in any capacity that goes against the grain of society, isn’t an easy road. Not for anyone. No matter what it is that makes one stand out against the crowd, the pressure to give in, to go with the flow, to be a sheeple is *huge*.

I don’t think that that drive is simply going to disappear, be nonexistent just because I’ve come this far. And she’s right. If I were THAT submissive, I’d have “submitted” to society long ago. I’d be one more closet submissive, masturbating to BDSM porn and fantasies or carrying on a hidden relationship.

But I’m not. I took chances and made things happen because I want what I want. I work for what I want. I’m not submissive. I’m determined.

‘Submissive’ would have led me to settling. Settling for those previous doms, those who may have been close to what I wanted… but not close enough. It’s not easy to end a relationship, especially when that relationship gives you some of what you’ve been looking for. When you don’t know if you’ll ever have anything even close to that again, when you’re facing being alone, again, and starting over, again.

So no. Being strong and driven and competent and determined does not mean that I can’t also be a slave. At least, not in my, or Master’s, opinion.

I do try to top from the bottom (try being the operative word here), and I try, I think, because I think I’m a smart girl. I think I know what’s good for me and I think I know what I want. But, I’m a slave because my topping from the bottom is thwarted consistently and constantly and in that process, I obey.

I talk about being in trouble and I discuss my punishments, but even in those instances, we’re talking about a flash of temper where I neglected to say ‘Sir’, or I got stubborn and took too long to serve him something. I’m not stomping around all day breaking rules and being a bitch. I’m not busting out of the cage (snicker) or chopping my hair off or chatting up other men or spending his money on a new wardrobe.

My basic approach is obedience because I do try and I know that obedience is the very foundation of being a slave… but none of that also requires that I forget, or ignore, the principle motivating factor that I came with. The determination to not let this path that we are on slip off into nowhere.

I don’t think it’s just Master’s responsibility to keep things moving forward and on the up and up. It’s both of ours. It’s his prerogative to steer it, but I’ll be god damned if that means I can’t speak up and say “where in Sam’s hill are you going???” and point out that a wrong turn seems to have been taken. We both know where we want to go. Sometimes He gets sidetracked or pulled away. Sometimes I do. It’s because we’re both wanting the same thing that we both get to yank the other one by the bootstraps.

Because I sure as fuck ain’t going to have made it this far to sit back and quietly and submissively watch it be ran into the ground.

I may not be as easily malleable as some. But you know, we’ve only been at this for a bit over 3 years. In 3 years, he’s changed me in some deeply profound ways. There are other people who have been at this for much longer than we have and who aren’t half as far along. So I don’t at all consider myself, or our relationship, a failure. It’s two steps forward, one step back, and anything easier would probably only be a surface change. I think we are doing it right, doing it in exactly the manner that we need to to satisfy ourselves. Y’all may not agree, but you’re also only getting snippets of the big picture. It’s impossible for me to accurately relay every little detail. I would if I could! But I can’t. Unless you want to move in? ;-)

As it stands right now, somewhere along the way in the not-so-distant past, a wrong turn was made. There is no fault or blame being assigned because it doesn’t matter a bit who detoured. Him or me? Who cares. What matters is that we are able to recognize it and work to fix it. Fixing a wrong turn requires backing up, finding where we deviated from the path and moving forward again. So that’s what we’re doing. We’re reversing until we identify the error.

“There are always two choices. Two paths to take. One is easy. And its only reward is that it’s easy.”

“There’s no thrill in easy sailing when the skies are clear and blue, there’s no joy in merely doing things which any one can do. But there is some satisfaction that is mighty sweet to take, when you reach a destination that you never thought you’d make.”

I could give up on my dreams. I could hush, keep my worries and thoughts to myself. I could… but what would he end up with? A lesser version of me.

He could bowl over my dreams. Ignore them, no longer make them a priority. At what cost though? A “nicer” journal? One of those perfect, fluffy ones? And still, a lesser version of me.

He wants to own me, to possess me. He doesn’t only want a robotic, yes-girl. Those are a dime a dozen. He’s going to take my dreams and he’s going to meld them with his own, until someday, there is no discernible difference. How’s he going to get there if I roll over and play dead??

~cunt

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