Just over 2 years ago, i looked at the scale, didn’t like the number my weight was approaching, and decided it was time to do something about it. 10 months later, i’d lost over 50 lbs and was down to a “normal” weight for the first time in my adult life.
That weight loss is particularly significant, because it’s what led to my becoming my Master’s submissive. At the time we had been in a long-term, but mostly vanilla, secondary relationship. We had a visit coming up, and i lamented to my (now) Master that i had nothing to wear, because i had not had a chance to replenish my wardrobe since losing all that weight. He gave me a budget to buy a wardrobe “suitable for being his sex slave for the weekend” – and what started off as a joke quickly turned into something much deeper and more profound than either of us ever expected.
Since then, there have been many appearance changes that have been mandated by Him, or at least strongly encouraged. Growing out my hair, waxing my pussy, getting acrylic nails. But that first one, that oh-so-profound one, that really amazing accomplishment – that was all me. i decided to lose the weight, and i did it. And while i was happy that it put me closer to being able to fulfill my Master’s fantasies, it was something that was mine.
Fast forward about 16 months from when i reached my goal weight, and i’m finding the scales creeping up. Not very high yet, but something that needs to be nipped in the bud if i’m going to continue to fit in the (now rather extensive) wardrobe my Master has purchased for His slavegirl.
Finding the willpower has been a little harder this time around, so my Master has decided to make this part of my submission to Him. He wants me to lose the weight. i’m reporting to Him what i eat, and my activity level. i am to do this for Him, as part of my service to Him.
One part of me relishes the external motivation. But there’s another part of me that resists, that holds onto the idea that the weight loss is mine. The feminist part of me that bristles at the idea of losing weight for a man (while recognizing the inanity of that position in the face of having my pubic hair ripped out by the roots for a man).
So i work to reconcile all these different parts of me, to accept and embrace that this is not in my control, and that my role is to serve, and to please my Master. That this body is His and no longer my own. That this is just another place to practice the letting go that will guide me to the place i want and need to be. Which is to say, a mewling horny slavegirl, desperate to please her Master in any way He demands.