Besides the sexual part of our BDSM-relationship, there’s a part John and I both like very much. From time to time Love comes up with ideas how to make my everyday life a bit more annoying and pleasurable at the same time by introducing new rules or events like the list I had to fulfill during July. For August, John had something very special up his sleeve: a certain diet I have to follow. Everything connected with food is not so easy to handle for me. As I have already written, my father put me on a strange diet. I was not to eat regularly which led to the fact that I stuffed myself with whatever I could find, even garbage, grass and so on. It was a long way for me to develop a more healthy way of eating and digesting. He also made me believe that I’m fat and therefore ugly, which was and still is a lie. I’m wearing clothes at sizes S to L. When my life turned better after my father’s death I had to establish new eating habits which inculded knowing I always had enough food handy and learning about what my body really needed and could digest. Nowadays, I still have some strange cravings, but I can deal with them. John was always very accepting and supported me where he could. On the weekends and in his holidays he likes to cook for us. He encouraged me to get into cooking and my friends W and S helped me as well by providing my with easy recipes for the start. Today, I really enjoy cooking and eating (most times), but the thought of me as being too fat still lingers.

From time to time I get the craze I should adapt my eating habits and try out new diets such as low carb high protein or such. When I start such a diet I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help it. Usually John accepts it, as long as I prepare his food the regular way, but he intervenes when I get to obsessed. On the last weekend I told him I was willing to start a new diet to lose a bit weight. He watched me bewildered when I ate only three carrots and a glass of sauerkraut juice for lunch. When I wanted to eat an apple and a small bowl of salad (no dressing) in the evening, he simple forbid me to eat it. Instead, he invited me to a restaurant and made me eat at least two dishes and drink lemonade. I felt strange afterwards. A bit guilty, but somehow fine. Love did not speak to me on our way home, but when we arrived and had settled onto our couch, he told me that he thinks I should follow a certain diet during August. Instead of losing weight I am supposed to gain at least 3 kilos. Here are the rules:

  1. Five meals per day. No exceptions.
  2. Every meal must contain a bit of every nutritive substance such as carbs, sugars, fat, protein and so on and fill at least a small salad bowl (contains about 200 ml).
  3. Focus on whole grains, fruits, vegetables, herbs.
  4. I must take pictures of everything I eat.
  5. In the evenings when John is at home I must eat some sweets or fatty crips and drink the minimum of one glass lemonade.
  6. I mustn’t dump food once that it is on my plate or vomit after eating.
  7. John reserves the right to stuff me if he thinks I don’t eat enough. Might contain feeding me tablespoons of pure oil or some sliced of bread with water to make it macerate or extra portions of canned pasta or so.
  8. My goal is to gain 3 kg, but he might be ok if it is less. If I lose weight, he will add on to that list and extend this diet to september.

I’m not quite sure about that list and diet although the first days were ok. In the mornings (even before I go to work) I eat rolled oats with some almond milk and a piece of fruit. At about 12 I’m having lunch, most times bread with a spread on it and a tomato. At 4 p.m. I’m having another slice of bread with marmelade and a cup of tea with sugar. We’re having diner together as soon as John’s home from work. At 8 p.m. I usually eat my sweets (turned out to arouse me if John has me in his arms and feeds me with them). A bit later I eat a salad with dressing and another slice of bread or the leftovers from dinner. I usually tend to heartburn, but at the moment I’m fine.

It’s a bit strange, but eating is connected with sexual desire for me. I totally freak out wearing diapers and getting fed a more or less tasteless porridge for children, helpless in Love’s arms.


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