And then I watched Queer Eye.

And now I'm going to take a shower and cuddle my wubbies.

After that, I'll go to sleep where, if he's lucky, I'll have horribly naughty dreams about a fellow Diarylander. Fun, yeah?

In other news, my mom says she's really done with her boyfriend, who I've nicknamed Skanky McGimp. He's an utter ass. This one didn't beat her too often though. *sigh* You know kiddies, way back in the day when I used to think I could still talk to my mom, I came home from a party with a bite on my neck/shoulder area. No, not a bug bite. No, I wasn't attacked by a rabid squirrel. It was a fairly large and nicely bruising human bite. I'd come up with them before. My boyfriend at the time was a biter and I enjoyed it, so why not. Only this time, when she looked concerned and asked me what happened, I told her the truth. I told her my boyfriend bit me. I told her he did it often, and I told her I enjoyed it.

She looked horrified. Of course, then came the lecture about respecting myself and how if a guy were going to bite me, it would only be a matter of time before he hurt me other ways. I tried to explain that while it did technically hurt, it was a good kind of hurt. She didn't buy it for a second. She gently explained how abnormal it was to think that way. How if I wanted to really be happy, I would find a guy who would never consider anything remotely like that. She told me that I'd grow up and regret it. And I kind of believed her.

I wound up breaking up with the biter, and going out with the sweetest guy in the world. And he cheated on me. Again, and again. And he started becoming verbally abusive. And he made me feel like I was fucking worthless. And he would have never, ever, ever consider pain remotely pleasurable. The one time I brought up any idea of roughness, he told me I was crazy. One time, I'd had about enough. I confronted him about his incessant cheating. I told him I wasn't going to put up with him treating me like shit. I told him I loved him, but it was going to have to get a lot better really quick, or I was breaking up with him. I still have a tiny scar on my lip from his class ring splitting it open.

By then I'd learned not to tell my mom anything. If she happened to be sober, she'd tell me I was a freak and advise me to go talk to our bishop.

So I told my best guy friends, who subsequently kicked his ass.

That was the last time I ever took anyone's advice on what I should and shouldn't like about anything. And my mom? She drifts from abuser to abuser, never complaining, always thinking it's her fault, she did something. Therapy? Well, that's for crazy people.

I came to a life-altering conclusion around the time the room was spinning from my head hitting the wall. I looked at the blood all over my shirt and my hands. My blood. I heard him yelling at me, saying horrible, horrible things. And I realized that had I stayed with the biter, this would never have happened. Because there is such a thing as good pain. And if you like to be bitten or spanked or cut even, that's your trip. Don't drop something good because other people don't understand you.

In the end, I have to see that scar that no one else sees. Every time I wash my face, I remember my mistake. My mom doesn't see it. Cosmo doesn't see it. No one I know sees it. I don't point it out, why would they look for it? But I do, I see it. I'll always see it. Maybe not as often, but I will. And whoever may think that I'm weird or abnormal, you're probably right, but then, you don't have to wash your face and remember that do you?

I'm sorry if I sound bitter. I'm not. I honestly wouldn't change a single experience I've had. Even the bad ones taught me something. And with the upbringing I had, seeing my dad and then a string of boyfriends abuse my mom, I could have thought that was okay. I worried that if I really cared about someone, I might. And I learned that it wasn't okay. No part of my brain or body accepted that treatment. I learned that regardless of my personal or romantic attachment to someone, I would never excuse that kind of behavior. That's a very comforting thing kiddies, very comforting.

To quote Billy Zane in Demon Knight, "If it feels good, do it."

Sorry to end on such a down subject. I'm about to go to bed; I don't need this lingering in my head before I go to sleep.

So...umm...my pink hair went over well today. Everyone commented on it. It's the girliest color I've ever done. It's really cool. I like it a lot. It reminds me of flamingos and cotton candy.

There we go that's dream material!

Sweet dreams kiddies.