An Elementary Writing Prompt

Remember those elementary writing assignments that had asked you to write about your dad or mom? I used to draw a blank on those essays because my knowledge of my Dad 2.0 or Mom 2.0 was next to zero. Made up a lot of generic traits that a dad or mom should have. Barely squeezed by with passing grade and life went on. Never gave it much thought until now. I want to attempt this assignment again with a twist. I will write about Dad 3.0, my Daddy Dom.

Life tend to be one dimensional when we were kids. Personalities and emotions then were not as complex. I was an obedient kid. Parents were parents. Nothing more and nothing less. That obedience has now blossomed to full submission. My interaction with Dad 3.0 is a mixture of father-daughter and dominant-submissive. D/s has been an added dimension that enriches our fundamental father-daughter relationship. Because I am married to Hubby, Dad and I are very careful at safe guarding my marriage while maintaining a unique D/s dynamic thats seldomly mentioned in blogs I’ve read.

I do not identify with Littles. There is a little girl inside of me thats true, but I do not like age play. None of the glitters, coloring books, nor stuffed animals. I am an adult but still kid at heart. Adult responsibilities will always come first. When there is room to play, I will play. Dad treats me in such way.

Dad 3.0 is wise and patient. I’ve never seen him lose his temper. He is a very giving person. He’d give and give until there is nothing to give. He is not perfect and has his vices. He’d always place others before him to a point he neglects himself. Sometimes it agitates me to hear his tired voice over the phone. He’s out helping his neighbors again. Has he had enough to eat or has he had enough sleep?

He is the leader of our family of four: my sister, Hubby, and I. He’s made and learned from a lot of his mistakes in life, thus his wisdom I come to respect. He don’t like to force any of us to do things he wanted. He’d see things that would benefit us and would persistently (sometimes annoyingly) point us toward the direction he wants us to go. He is willing to see us make our own mistakes. As long as there’s no major harm, he is willing to let us struggle and learn from our failures.

I don’t like to be a brat. In fact I hate to be a brat just to get his attention. I always want to strive for my best. When I come up short, I have a bad habit of being overly critical with myself. I had asked Dad to spank me once. Dad simply said no and walked me through my problems without me feeling less of myself. Him and I both know that spanking is not an effective punishment for me. He’d rather not use it unless he feel the absolute need to. Many times a slight change in his tone of voice is enough for me. I know I’ve disappointed him and I feel awful when that happens. When he sees that, he will use that opportunity to build me up rather than to tear me down. What once was a problem would soon dissolve into tears followed by laughter.

I am his daughter first and foremost. Our D/s relationship just formed naturally from there. We have our set routines of checking into eachother. Those routines are not preset rules, those formed because we deeply cares about eachother. Submission, in my mind, is about seeing the wisdom in Dad and follow with an inquisitive mind. It’s being my Dad’s safety net, because we are all humans. When he fails, I can step up and help. Submission is active not passive. It’s about seeing the need in him and fulfilling that need. I suppose Dad will say the same thing but bit different from a Dominant’s perspective. Principle is the same, fufilling eachother’s needs.. Ying and yang. What a beautiful simple concept and image in my mind…

There, finally a peice I am satisfied with to fulfill that decade old writing prompt. In this day and age, my elementary school teacher will probably have a coronary reading about D/s relationship. That somehow tickles me to no end. Some people will never get It. Oh well…

Summer Update

Shifted my attention away from blogging in past few months. Turned it inward and got to understand myself a bit better. Think I’ve matured somewhat and I am finally taking care of my body as well. Instead of the COVID 15, I’ve lost 10 pounds or so. Planning to loose 20 lbs more!

Been doing well amid all the craziness that’s going on this year. I swear people are getting much more impatient these days. Some of my good clients are now easy to anger. Luckily I don’t need to see them face to face anymore. Just phone conversations, sweet and simple. Speaking of luck, both Hubby and I still work full time. Life is as good as it gets for an introvert like me.

Planning a trip to Dad’s next week. I am super excited and slightly anxious. Air travel is going to be a whole different ball game post Covid. Face masks, hand sanitizers, wiping down seats and trays, holding our beath, no coughing, no sneezing…you know, the whole nine yards. We now have a new vocab for non-compliant white women “Karen” wonder if we are going to see any Karens on our trip…

Now to the meat of all my rambling thoughts. I am still very much in a D/s relationship, not exactly with my Hubby per se, but with my Dad 3.0. Now please pause and pull your minds out of the gutter, it is not the typical relationship that you’d read on daily basis. There are no written rules or protocols. There is no kinkery involved. Yet my life is a lot more structured and grounded simply through talking with Dad every day.

Eventhough there is no written rules or protocols, there is an over arching rule for me in this relationship and that’s is I will not harm myself through action or inaction. Sounds pretty black and white doesn’t it? In fact, it can be quite subtle at times and it applies to pretty much everything in my life. When I was first introduced to the rule I was a bit underwhelmed. “Don’t think I’ve ever cut myself or caused physical harm to myself” “what is he talking about? This is going to be easy peasy” as it turned out over the year, it’s not easy. Let me repeat, it’s not easy at all!

To be able to follow that rule, I need to open up my mind to him. Most of the time he sits and watches all that’s going on in my head. He’d wait for me to talk about my problems or things that bothered me. Some problems are easier to solve than others. The ones that have no right answers…well those were the ones I wish he’d be close by to give me a hug and a kiss on my forehead.

Like the other day, I watched a documentary titled “One Child Nation” through Netflix. It hit home, and it hit pretty hard. For those of you who had followed me for a while know I was adopted when I was about 5 months old. My life is a product of that One Child Policy and Chinese people’s deep seeded value for boys. I would not exist if my parent’s first child was a boy. I would not exist if my mom was to force abort. I would not exist if my parents decided to ditch me on side of a bridge. Against all odds, I am lucky and blessed to be where I am today and writing to you all about my life.

A niggling problem came about after that documentary. I am starting to wonder if I should contact my biological parents. It’s something I am talking to my Dad about. It’s not an easy decision for me to make. It’s easy for an outsider to say of course she should contact her biological parents! Such a wonderful story that’d restore faith to humanity. But my life is not a drama series out to make money. For me, it’s extremely difficult and inexplicably painful. I’ve experienced the worst heartache from my adoptive family and I’ve found love in most unexpected places. I am content with what I have now and I am afraid to open myself up to strangers even if they are my blood relatives…see how all of these thoughts can bring harm to myself if I hold all of those in?

Back to the rule of not harming myself through action or inaction. I can hold all of those thoughts in my mind and slowly let those thoughts fester (inaction) or I can just talk about it with Dad and still be loved no matter what decision I ended up making. That’s the D/s dynamic we have. There are more. Nothing exciting or orgasm inducing. Mundane and boring to most, but to me, it’s quintessential.

What was Lost

I started gaming when I was a sophomore in undergrad. At that time, many of my friends were into WoW, but I couldn’t play that game because I had a crappy Dell laptop with the most basic of graphics card. Felt slightly left out until one of my roommates introduced me to MapleStory (a cute game that even a crappy laptop could handle) and that was the beginning of my online gaming saga. Back then I had little to no self control. So I spent all the free time I could find playing that game. Those were the times I pulled all nighters.

Pulling all nighters was possible to do when I was away from home, but during school breaks, my mom, especially, would always get mad when she saw me playing games. So I honed my reflexes and got really good at alt-tabing. I knew she was suspicious at times, but if nothing was mentioned, I’d carry on as usual. Was really annoyed at her that she never understood my gaming needs. Annoyed until I put on my big girl pants after I lost her.

Ever since she passed, there was no longer any external pressure against gaming. During that griefing period, I played a lot of games while neglecting my adult responsibilities. Chores were left undone and bills were left unpaid. Gaming was my escape mechanism. As time went on, I hated whom I became. You can refer to her as a lazy slob essentialy. There was this constant internal turmoil going on in my head when I gamed. So gradually I weaned myself off of gaming and took control over my life. First my work, then my temper, now finance and cooking. I am mostly on the right track now until quarantine hits.

During this period, I am considered as an essential worker, but in past two weeks I got sick with mild flu like symptoms. Test came back neg, but I still took precaution and stayed home. While physically fatigued, I spent first week talking on the phone with Dad a lot while Hubby was working remotely from home. Mind you, I used to hate talking on the phone for extended period of time, but talking to Dad somehow eases my mind even if it’s about cars or mowers. As I got better and regained my stamina, I caved into a PC game that had came out last year. Planet Zoo. It’s a sandbox game that allows me to build a zoo of my wildest dreams. As you guessed, I got sucked into that game. Some old habits die hard you know.

This time around though, I know not to neglect my chores. Prioritized everything else before gaming except for a few things. When Dad called, I’d sometime not pick up the phone right away. Was busy trading animals for in-game currency or busy finding that perfect decor. I am aware of that and I do struggle to make the right decision. Sorry Dad… Yesterday morning I found myself coming up with excuses on why that game was so fun and good for me. All of a sudden I was reminded of the past. I lost someone precious. I still miss her and wonder about what she would think of the current me. Some of what had lost were recovered when Dad 3.0 adopted me. His making sure I work first play later is one of those. Not annoyed but appreciative.

As the novelty of adoption is starting to wear off, I find myself taking certain things for granted. Namely talking on the phone with Dad. I often find my mind wandering elsewhere while he’s on certain subjects only to engage when I am interested. I don’t like that I am doing it. Sometimes I slip into my old ways, but sometimes I catches myself. Just writing to let Dad know that I am trying. This goes to Hubby as well. I know I have a bad habit of not paying attention in a conversation and letting the mind wonder. Shall work on that along with many other things.

That’s the early morning thought of the day. Stay safe everyone. Shall write again when the Thought Train stops by.

Memory

Woke up with a bloody nose. Haven’t had those in a while. Well I lied. I did had another one at work the other day. Was complete ninja about it that my client didn’t even notice! Think it’s the California climate that’s making my nose bleed. Booo! Another reason to move…

Watched a documentary on Memory last night. Gave me the inspiration to write some more today. Afterall, I have selective memories. At times I really worry that I’ll end up with a Dory brain (Finding Nemo reference)

Now a day, when you hear people go on a vacation, you often hear them say that they need a vacation from their vacation. Not me! Came home depressed that my vacation ended too early. Two weeks after this Californian dry air, my nose seems to agree as well.

Trying to recall the most memorable moments of my vacation with Dad, sis, and Hubby. Think the one that stood out the most was when we were out cutting wood and Dad’s saw won’t start. The little girl in me watched anxiously as Dad tried and tried again with his saw. She was worried about the impact it would have on his elbow and watched helplessly as the rain clouds came ever closer. As if he knew what was on her mind, Dad stopped his attempts. Sat her down next to him on the log he was going to cut and they talked. It had a calming effect on her. Listening to the frogs in the distance and occasional laughter from the truck, they revealed in the music that nature had to offer. How perfect that moment was for the four of us. Would love to go back there and listen to the Kit music again.

The saw eventually cave under Dad’s will. We cut, split, and loaded a second trailer full of wood just before the rain came down. Ha! Another one of Kit’s favorite tunes…

Bah! The sirens that’s waking up the dogs. Time to sleep now that the bleeding had stopped. Memory safely stored in the memory bank. She can rest easy for remainder of the night.

It’s been a while…

I’ve been very lazy about blogging in recent months. Truth of the matter is, I no longer have the desire to be heard or understood via an online community. My daily interactions with my loved ones, coworkers, and clients are enough to keep me busy and occupied. What’s significant about that is those who care about me see me for who I am. I no longer need to hide certain parts of me, because all parts of me are seen and cared for in one way or the other.

It’s definitely a good thing. For those who wonder occasionally on how I am doing, I am doing well in general. Actually, I am doing great! Given the original nature of this blog, I know some of you are wondering how my submissive side is doing. She is doing well too. That bit is slightly harder to explain, but I’ll try my best.

My original intent on starting this blog is to write about my D/s journey with my Hubby. We tried M/s. Well we fumbled through that stage and came to the realization that there are certain things we cannot change in a person. It’s hard for Hubby to be a Dominant and it’s just as hard for me not to be a submissive. Having said all of that, Hubby is still my husband. I am starting to see certain wisdom in His decision making that I previously had missed. So in away I am more trusting of His leadership than I was before. This is going to be an ongoing process. We learn as we go type of thing.

For a while I was confused about what I need as a submissive. Was it the protocols or the rules that I needed to keep me grounded? Or was it the amazing sex and fabled subspace that I fantasized about and desired for? …or was it something deeper that resonates with my submissive and/or even my little girl side of me?

As it turns out, it’s something deeper. It is love. That unconditional love you see in most well maintained parent child relationships. That unconditional love you see when an old man kisses his wife on the forehead. Unconditional love… what is it? It’s a feeling shared between, two, three, four (in my case), or more people that no matter what happens, we will work together and solve eachother’s problems. No one is left behind. No flaw is great enough for any of us to stop loving eachother. Be it between husband and wife, father and daughters, we are all in this together to face any challenges that life has to offer. Some of us are naturally good at leading, some of us are naturally good at following. Each of us doing our part to make our relationships strong. In that environment, I feel my submissive side shine. She is doing her part to serve the people she loves. To see them relaxed, happy, or thrive in this crazy world we live in is her greatest reward. Of course she worries for the unknowns, but she is comforted in knowing that at times there are no solutions to problems at hand, but she is not facing those problems alone.

In the months I’ve been silent, I came to realize that D/s relationships that people read online are overly fetishized. People “new” to the concept are distracted by the sexual aspect of It. The reason I quoted new is that we at one point or another have all gone through some sort of D/s relationship. Parent/child, teacher/student, employer/employee. Principle behind those relationships are more or less the same. A good leader sees the potential in His (using that as a generic term, too lazy to be politically correct) followers. He is patient and kind. He sees the pitfalls and lays down paths ahead of His followers so that those following can trverse safely. In place of coercion, He leads by example. He is neither arrogant nor short tempered. On the flip side, a good follower sees the wisdom in her leader. She does not follow blindly, but she follows with respect. She looks out and cares for her leader. She is not weak nor is she incapable. One day that role may reverse. Hopefully by then, she will learn the wisdom to lead.

A Year in Review

Having a really slow day today. Decided to come here to write a little. As 2019 is coming to an end, I’d like to spend sometime to look back and see what we’ve accomplished this year.

Hubby had finally obtained his Master’s degree and is working at a job that demands a lot of his time and effort. He is having a rough time with his new job, but through it all, I feel we are still doing okay as a couple. Times like this, it’s easy for couples to grow apart. Especially if one party is having a tough time while the other is less supportive. While I finally am able to get one extra day off each week this year, I still find it hard at times to support him the way he needed. There are days when I feel down or tired and just want to lean on him for support, but his need for my support currently is greater than mine. So for now I am willing to set aside my needs to support him. That way he can get through it all safely and we can resume the fun we used to enjoy.

On the financial side of things and with months of practice at budgeting, I am finally able to keep a budget accurately and consistently. The need to keep a budget for us is simple. We are working super hard now so we can one day be debt free. The amount of stress and burden that we feel now will virtually disappear when that day come. With that said, in mere two weeks, we’ll be paying off my student loan finally. All 103k of it! It’s a good feeling that it will be finally paid off. Hubby, of course, helped tremendously in these past 6 months. It’s certainly a team effort to be disciplined with our money, but we are steadily getting rid of our debt load month by month. Next year we will be working on his student loan. If everything work in our favor, it will be gone within a year!

Speaking of saving money, that effort has lead me to cook a lot more at home during the latter half of this year. I’ve tried a lot of new recipes and am genuinely excited to try more. Christmas is coming up and we kind of have this no gift policy with all party involved. (We’ll see how that goes, because so far we’ve broken the rule already…) anyway!!! Hubby’s step dad is Hispanic. So I am thinking it will be neat for me to try to make a batch of tamales this weekend. What I’ve learned so far is that good tamales require lots of work. Mixing the masa to the right consistency and wrapping them all require time. It kind of reminds me of making chinese dumplings at home. The time and love that’s needed to make a dish enjoyed by all and the memories that followed are priceless compaired to latest trendy model of whatever. Shall get hubby involved in wrapping those tamales…that will be fun.

Now that I’ve mentioned Christmas…amongst all those stress of shopping and traveling, never forget to just simply enjoy the company of our loved ones. Think about it, many of those nicely wrapped gifts underneath our Christmas trees will eventually end up forgotten. It’s our time spent together with our loved ones that are most valuable and memorable. So take a moment to relax and appreciate the fact that we are safe and sound. That Christmas offers us a time of respite from the hardships that our life has to offer.

So to end this post. I shall send my love to my wonderful husband. Although times are tough right now, we will fight through it together. Cheer up! It’s almost vacation time! To my Father 3.0…hehe…thank you for all of your love and support. Not to embarrass you further, we shall return to our regularly scheduled poke, poke, poke. You may wipe off all the girl stink from your screen now. =D!

And to my readers, happy Holidays!

A Day of Peace

Today was a day I very much needed in my life, a day I used to have often and knew upon starting up work again that I would dearly miss. It was a mostly self-absorbed day, though I seem to be incapable of 100% indulging these days.

A morning of leg exercises and vacuuming while waiting on laundry. Then a long hot shower while I caught up on news that I’ve been bubbled from reading due to my hectic work schedule. Had planned to get out early and capture the day but tweaked my ankle while working out so took the hint and threw a load of kitchen towels in and gave my dogs some much needed attention and pets. Mop heads were dry and finally got to that chore just as kit was coming home for lunch.

Kit came home for lunch… had leftover Thanksgiving feast waiting for her so we could maximize our time together before she had to go back. Such a restful sleep, I almost stayed in bed even as kit went off to work again. It’s cold and rainy here for the last few days and staying in bed with three dogs was mighty tempting.

Alas the boys had been promised an epic dungeons and dragons adventure and, after such a relaxing day off, I was brimming with creativity and motivation. So off I went to sit in the busy local bakery and people watch all the family reunions going on around me as I typed away, cropping photos kit had shared to build out an epic story that seems to entertain everyone I tell about it.

Got back after kit and fed the starving doggos. Then off to sit in a restaurant for far too long before we got some delicious food. Hangry kit went from grumpy to philosophical after she got her food and now seems quite pacified.

The rest of my weekend is going to be rather busy with visiting family and ignored chores. But it’s nice to reminisce on good times while they last. I put thought into all the loved ones I’ve lost over the years this week and how they have impacted my life and changed who I am. I just wanted to take a moment and write this day down to remember why days off are so valuable.

Mount Vesuvius

My pet has a blessing. She has the finest leg and arm hairs of anyone I’ve ever met. It’s true. You would think she shaves them daily, but her secret… she never does. Her hair is thin and light colored and soft to the touch as if it isn’t even there…

So of course with such a blessing comes such a curse. She is very self-conscious about her dark “pubies” as she calls them. She shaves and plucks rigorously and proudly lets me know at random intervals that she has done this. “I’m plucking!” I’ll hear shouted across the house… well not lately. I’m already on the road these days. I miss those silly morning moments with her badly.

Anyway not to get side-tracked… her plucking comes with a downside. Hair plucking occasionally comes with the worst of nature’s curses…ingrown hairs or as she calls them “pussy pimples”

Once every few months I will see Kit freeze up suddenly. Like, you’d think she fed the dogs chocolate three hours ago and just realized the mistake. Totally stops what she is doing.

“Oh no…”

And then after the initial shock… I already know the reality of it.

“Pussy pimple?”

She nods… gravely. And then the song and dance begins. “Can you see it? Is it a white head? Can you pop it?!”

As I stare trying to see something that can only be felt… mostly only by her and she frets and groans. I’ll have some fun and squeeze at it and have her freak out and screech “Sensitive!!”

After a few taunting squeezes, I will shrug and give up. She always asks if it’s a white head and if I popped it. I smile and say not at all and that she is stuck with it for a while. She does not like this answer.

These stories end a number of ways and over a number of lengths of time. But we always will remember the one time about 3 years ago. The event that ended in an explosion we will never forget. The Mount Vesuvius incident…

Kit had been suffering for nearly 2 weeks from one pimple. She would moan about it before her shower for days. I just couldn’t pop it or lacked the time to try seriously. It became irritated and the mound continued to grow in size. After 2 weeks we had a real monster on our hands and had to go in for a serious popping…

And at long last… Kit found her release. It exploded like a stockpile of tnt buried beneath a mound of earth. The entire white head launching from her like a satellite entering orbit. She screamed “ooooouchie!!!” for a moment but then was free.

In our minds we knew the comparison that has to be made. It was, without a doubt, a real Mount Vesuvius. From that day on we would nickname any serious pussy pimple after a famous volcano, judging relative explosive power and size of famous eruptions against each other in an ever evolving inside joke.

“How is it?”

“A real Mount St. Helen on our hands.”

“Is it real bad?”

“Like Kilauea.”

“It hurts!!!”

“You need to endure. We might have a Yellow Stone under the surface!”

Somehow this exercise triggers a mild feeling of sadistic glee in me. She is trusting me to squeeze and pop the most sensitive part of her body. And as I do, she squirms and squeals and struggles in pain and shock. And I push on to give her the relief she needed. It’s one of the strangest and most easily obtained masochistic high I get from playing with her. How weird is that?

I’ll honestly be surprised if Kit lets me publish this, but even if this is only read by her, I had a lot of fun writing it. Love you for all your silliness Kit!

Obedience

I’ve always been an obedient child growing up. Nanny would tell me stories of the two or three year old me. How easy it was to raise me. At that time, she was working for multiple households (in secret). She would bundle me up and strap me to her back while grandparents were taking their afternoon nap. Think I was old enough to blurt out some words here and there. So when She took me to different neighborhoods, I’d mumble in shanghainese that nanny did “laundry here” or “scrubbed toilets there”. Of course she didn’t want my grandparents to find out, so she told me to keep it a secret. I did, not really knowing what secret meant. There was another time when a bottle of milk had dropped on my head. Nanny said I was about to cry, but I stifled it when she urged me not to make any noise for fear that grandpa would yell at her for being clumsy…I could think of many other stories, but bottom line being I was who I was even at that age.

When I was a bit older and occasionally got bullied in preschool or elementary, I preferred not to to fight back. I tend to just shrug my shoulders and move on. When adults found out (they always do), they would get upset and wanted justice. Think I was seriously more upset by them making a ruckus than being bullied. Remembered clearly walking home one day from school. A kid pushed me from behind and I chipped two of my upper incisors in the process. Came home bloodied. I just wanted some comfort, but was met with a lot of anger that I didn’t confront the kid and held him accountable. Grandma went to school next day, spoke to numerous teachers and found out who the kid was. She made him apologize and his parents were notified too…think the whole ordeal had made me felt extremely uncomfortable, horrified even. Don’t know why. Perhaps I disliked confrontation and certainly disliked all the attention I got as an result. Adults had always lectured me that I was too nice to people and I needed to stand up for myself. But what if that was just me and I was comfortable with being me?

Fast forward several years. Mom knew of my disposition and she was extremely protective of me when my dad was ordering me to do things. For me, I just did it. It really didn’t bother me that much. Yes, he could have chose his words a bit differently, but there was no ill will behind his intentions. The ivy on the fences needed some trimming, the leaves on the front yard needed to be raked, dinner served before eight, dishes washed after meals, clothes folded and put away, and all other domestic chores you can think of, I just obeyed and did. Mom at times disliked the way dad treated me, but at other times she would be upset when certain chores weren’t done. There wasn’t much consistency to her, at least with my dad there was. Many times mom automatically assumed that my dad was being a bully. A lot of their arguments stemmed from that. I blamed myself for most of their fights. Perhaps some of my personalities had changed then?

When I went off to college, everything kind of changed. There were block of time where I was my own boss and developed my own way of living. Met Hubby in college. Since He don’t have much of His own preference on way of things, I became his boss as well. Don’t think it was natural for me to lead, but certainly something new. Sometimes I’d be on top of my game, but most of the time I’d just lazy about and became the bachelorette frog I was then. It irritated Hubby, but He never spelled out how thing should be done in our relationship. So I remained the de facto leader of our relationship.

Was running errands the other day with Hubby. Forgot what exactly it was that had Him mention I was lousy at following His orders. A part of me was a bit surprised by that comment, but the other part totally recognized where He had came from. Think I was more surprised that He was the one to call me out on that than anything. Despite how obedient I was growing up, I do agree whole heartedly that I am lousy at following His commands. Period. Think this bad habit has been so deeply ingrained in me and this relationship that we both just overlooked it most of the time. It’s somewhat ironic that He is more motivated to be the leader of this relationship now that we have called off D/s. I am definitely not complaining here and I do hope this trend will continue. It definitely will require a lot of conscious efforts from both of us, but it’s a trend that we both wish to head towards.

Obedience. That’s something I’ll work on in this relationship. It is in my nature to follow. I just need to correct many of my bad habits with Him. Once that’s mostly addressed, we may attempt at D/s on a stronger footing. Ha! I’ve been thinking of how to write this post since that incident over the weekend. Didn’t really expect long stories from my past…sorry about the rambling today.

The Terror of Kit and ASMR

Kit is new to the concept of ASMR. I’m no expert in it either, but I seem to have randomly stumbled on the concept long before it became a regular event in Kit’s life. In short, it isn’t for me.

Quick summary for those not in the know: ASMR stands for Autonomus Sensory Meridian Response. It usually includes soft sounds that you don’t hear from day to day life. Those sounds then get amplified for odd people like the Kit to enjoy. For some people, it is relaxing. Some find it erotic. Many listen to those while meditating or sleeping. But in the case of Kit… she is using it for food porn. Satisfying her food cravings in the most unconventional way.

On her days off, Kit likes to cook. She goes through regular cycles of YouTubing recipes until she’s inspired to cook said recipes. One video led to another, she went down the YouTube algorithm rabbithole and discovered Mukbang few months ago… and my life has changed somewhat since that discovery of hers. It’s a korean food show where people cook and eat massive amounts of food on camera in the most barbaric ways imaginable. There are audiences… people like the Kit… who enjoy living vicariously through these food monsters as they devour massive plates of sea food, steaks, spicy noodles, and you name it!

But this… this is fine by me. I was never bothered by Kit watching cooking videos. Heck it sometimes even inspired the Kit to cook epic dishes, and boy is she a great cook. 99% of the time her dishes are magical. Every once in a great while she goes crazy with peppers or uses too much numbing peppercorns and it makes my stomach hurt. But other than those rare times, Kit usually is on par or slightly better than the best quality asian restaurants in our area.

But then… then ASMR and Mukbang videos entered her world. Of course they would. Put that specialized muffled microphone up close to the face of someone noisily slurping noodles or cracking the shell of an alaskan king crab and you get to watch the Mukbang fans swoon! Then there is the Kit, half naked, waching those videos every night, secretly wishing it was her who’s eating that scrumptious crab leg or tiger prawn…

I wish I can share her new found obsession, but for some reason this triggers borderline panic attacks for me. ASMR in general rubs me slightly the wrong way. Like nail on chalk board, those eating videos trigger a childhood repulsion to the sound my grandpa would make when he would eat donuts with his dentures and mouth open. If I’m in the room with Kit while she is listening to one on her phone, my skin immediately begins to crawl and I have to walk away as my entire focus is sucked into brooding over that slurping, chewing, crunching cacophony. Gah!!!

It is quite funny though. Kit too has a simliar distaste to people eatting loudly in public. Smacking their lips or talking with their mouth full. Just last week this happened and, while I sat brain dead from a long day of work and oblivious to the sound, Kit quietly brooded and went chiiii at the offending person. I am just at a loss to why she is totally okay with that on YouTube. Maybe she thinks of mukbangs as the ultimate window shopping version of eatting something without the expenses, long prep time, or calories. Who knows. The world of understanding Kit’s brain is a long road that I imagine will take my whole life to perfect, but it’s a road I look forward to travel. One that offers small victories in the form of insights into how her mind ticks and how I can control those cogs to lead her in a way that makes her feel warm and fuzzy. And perhaps in finding services she’s willing to offer that makes my day a little brighter. I especially enjoy the simple things like the foot and ankle rub she is giving as I type up this blog…

Life has its ups and downs and sometimes Kit do little things to drive me crazy, even when she mean well. But there are moments like this… covered in fur baby doggos with a nudist Kit rubbing out the soreness in my ankles and relaxing the fatigue in my mind, that makes life worth living…so long as she don’t play any of her mukbang videos…either way, thank you Kit for always being there for me in your own unique ways. Just, please, enjoy those videos with your head phones. Spare my poor ears and sanity!