Family Ties....

About two weeks ago, Aaron and I had to make an exciting trip to the ER. 

To make a long story short, my gallbladder decided it wanted nothing to do with me now that I'm 30.  I was admitted into the hospital to have it removed. 

After the cholecystectomy  (fun word, huh?) , my entire family felt like they needed to see for themselves that I was, indeed, still in the land of the living.   

I don't remember much of the conversation we had.  I do however remember my brother coming up to my bedside, reaching for my hand  to do what all good brothers would do. Make fun out of his poor gallbladder-less sister of course.

"Monica, they are doing this all wrong, shouldn't they have you handcuffed to the bed?"

Before you think that DD runs in the family (it doesn't), I need to explain that my brother works in a prison.  He is use to transporting criminals to the hospital, where they are apparently restrained to keep from running away.

Dear readers, put yourself in my shoes (err, hospital socks).  How do you think someone in this lifestyle under my condition and known for their chronic foot-in-mouth disease would have answered?

"Handcuffs?  No, no...I would enjoy that too much."

I place all the blame on the drugs. The nurse must have given me some sort of truth serum.  

My recollection of exactly how my family reacted is a little fuzzy.  I would like to think, for dramatic's sake, that my mother clutched her pearls and  crossed herself a few dozen times.  My Dad must have fainted, and my siblings probably started some sort of disowning ritual.  It's the only ONLY way I can justify what my husband said next.

"Don't worry, Monica and I are the most vanilla couple you've ever seen.  Honest."

My family left soon after. 

Not long after they departed, I began to wonder if I had just IMAGINED the whole ordeal.  I went to Aaron for the truth.

"Honey, did I just admit to my parents that I like being restrained to the bed?"

"Yes, Yes you did, get some sleep dear."

I closed my eyes, but continued to put the pieces of conversation together in my dulled memory.

" Umm, did you use the term vanilla to describe our sex life in front of my entire family?"

"Yes, Yes I did."

"Aaron," I continued hazily. " I could be wrong, but I think the only people that use the term "vanilla" are indeed, non-vanillas.  Do you think you convinced them?"

"I don't think so Monica, as soon as I said it your mother responded with a 'Yeah Right!' "

Should I be more concerned that my mother thinks she has us pegged, or that fact that my mother knows what the term vanilla means?

Maybe it runs in the family after all.

My Fortune Awaits....in bed!

A few weeks ago, Aaron and I had lunch at our local Chinese buffet.  The highlight of the meal, aside from the fried rice, has always been the fortune cookie. 

Most of you are aware of these. The messages are generic, tidbits of nothing, often casted aside and forgotten about as soon as it's time to leave.

To entertain the immature child raging inside of us, we take turns reciting our fortunes, while the other listens intently and waits for the moment to add the phrase "in bed" to the end. Turning an innocent fortune of prosperity and good health into something deliciously x-rated.

We are easily amused. 

Aaron went first.  We snickered at the results of the now wanton wordings as he tossed the slip of paper on the table.

It was my turn, I cracked open the mini morsel and fished out the slip of paper.  Would it promise me wealth?  A vacation?  A puppy? 

 

I don't know about you, but having a fortune cookie tell you that maybe, just maybe, you could have put on a bit of makeup today isn't exactly what I would call a warm and fuzzy moment.

Particularly mixed with guilt over dousing your entire buffet plate with sweet and sour sauce.

I pouted silently, munching on the somewhat stale prophetic parcel and sank back into my chair

Could this bit of Chinese confection actually have a point?

I admittedly connect my femininity and submissiveness. It may sound a bit silly to some, but I think they seem to flow well together.  Putting on a figure flattering dress or skirt and a few baubles helps boosts my self esteem, makes me feel prettier and sets me on a good start for the rest of the day.  

 

Tuning into my girly side has gotten much easier with practice.  I'm not below begging, and have done so to many of my girlfriends, both non and DD alike, to show me their magic tricks in the art of make up and couture. For a girl who has been known to just buy what is on the mannequin at the department store for fear of buying something that doesn't match, I've managed to do pretty well for myself.  

Now is not the time however, to mention my first attempt at using eyeliner.  Let's just say 30 minutes and one eye swollen shut later, Aaron had to forcefully remove the pencil from my determined grasp.


My eyes still haven't forgiven me.

It would be shallow of me to say that femininity is based solely on one's appearance.  It's just the part I chose to dive into head first.  I've been sort of...coasting in some of the non-physical aspects.   My tongue and temper are still sharper and shorter than ever, often (correctly) portraying me as blunt and demanding. Maybe it's time to focus on bringing out my inner daintiness. 

Make no mistake, I'm not looking to change myself from a spirited submissive into a doormat. I've got too much soul and mischief for that.  Maybe a few steps in the "softer" direction would benefit both my goal of being more feminine and improve my overall everyday submissiveness. 

Should I be worried about taking life advice from a cookie?





P.S.  In case you were wondering, there is an article I found about writing the fortunes in fortune cookies.  Serious business!  Check it out!

And now you know.

And knowing is half the battle.