Objectify Me

A friend of mine posted a link on facebook to some blog about the Blurred Lines song by Robin Thicke and how it is horrible, it objectifies women, feminists hate it, on and on. Sigh.

I enjoy the song-
I enjoy the music.
I enjoy the lyrics.

How ’bout this: I enjoy being objectified. You heard me. I like it, it gets me hot, it boosts my sometimes lacking self-esteem. Of course there is a time and place for everything, but this song’s setting is in the club, not church, not the grocery market, not school – but the club. I’ve been clubbing plenty of times – objectification is the name of the game. How do I know? Why else would anyone wear a skirt that barely covers their ass with heels 6″ high? It’s not to look smart, that’s for certain…it’s to look fuckable. And if you are looking like sex on legs, you’ll be seen as a sex object. Mission accomplished! Embrace it!

I get so tired of some feminists taking the ‘feminine’ out of everything. It is okay to be a girl and it is okay to be a girl that wants to fuck. It is okay to embrace that side of yourself. Being seen as a sexual creature should not make you feel lesser, it should make you feel desirable, and hot. So go ahead…

Objectify me.

As an aside… Unwelcome attention from anyone should be shut down immediately. I’m not condoning any sort of physical or verbal assault. If that is the case, the dude’s an asshat and should be handled as such. 🙂

Have a happy weekend, everyone. I’m patiently awaiting Elle’s Friday post!

shygirl

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Thinking Thursday

It’s Thursday! Hallelujah!!  Almost time for the three day weekend. Kids went back to school on Monday and everything is in full chaotic swing.

I’ve been reading different viewpoints and thinking…

Is submission to my Husband a gift?
The short answer? No.

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I know that won’t sit well with some (many?) people, so I will try to elaborate. First, a story!

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When I was young, a friend gave me a hamster, as a gift. I was so excited! I showed my mom, named him Romeo and we headed up to the pet store. We purchased a cage, bedding, food, treats, a water bottle, and ball for him to roll around in. The bill was nearly $100! The gift ended up being very costly and, since Romeo was a living creature, a lot of maintenance was required (feeding, watering, playing, cage cleaning, etc). If I were forced to think of my submission as a gift, it would be one like that hamster – fun to play with, but requiring lots of time and effort and dirty work. But I hold firm…my submission, while welcomed and appreciated, is no gift.

You may say that giving someone else control is a gift, but is it really? From where I stand, having that control is a lot of work. The physical, mental and emotional costs seem very high.

Maybe you think giving Him total access to my body is a gift? Nope. He’s had that from the beginning, well before D/s was established between us. Our sex life has always been very active and quite twisty. I can’t gift something He’s already had for years!

What about the complete baring of my soul, the total excruciating honesty? Is that a gift? Ummmm, no! I live in this head of mine and if anything, that honesty and transparency is a crazy burden.

Servicing Him, doing things to please Him, surely those are gifts? I say nay! I feed off of pleasing Him (i am not just talking sexual here) and being able to please Him is simply just my [cherished] duty, as His wife and submissive.

So, then, is His dominance a gift to me? No. It feels like it much of the time, but it isn’t. He does what He does because it is what He needs. Lucky for me, what He needs to give, I need to receive and vice versa.

I cannot live my life wrapped in a bow, everyday saying ‘here I am, your gift’. A gift is given once. I’ve been His for 16+ years, I have no intention of regifting myself to Him (or anyone else).

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Okay. My submission is not a gift, but what is it? It is me, I am my submission. I simply am submissive, it is no gift. I also have blue eyes – no one would venture to say they were a gift for my Sir. Our D/s dynamic is just us, but on a whole other level. A higher plane of thinking, of living, of being, if you will. My Husband and I chose each other long ago and finally we can just be.

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Photos found on Google.

shygirl