Ivory Woes

I've been intending for a while to write an entry about non spanking sorts of punishments.  Intending to but not actually doing it.  I'm not sure this entry will either but I have to write it and so it's a start.

As I mentioned in this entry, I can't have very much sugar without getting sick.  (I did make it through that week, finally btw.)  But this week I'm staying at my parents' house where the sugar supply is endless.  After several days of hearing (Pab is at home several hundred miles away) of my failure to avoid sweet treats, Pab told me last night that I was to buy a bar of soap today and have it ready for tonight were I to continue to eat too much sugar.

Well, actually, he said "no" sugar.  Which is sort of the problem. 

The threat / warning was enough to make me tear up.   

I was very good.  I got the bar of soap (Ivory).  I ate very carefully, ignoring the homemade bread pudding my mother made for dessert tonight.  Not snitching any part of the three (THREE) pies I baked for tomorrow's Thanksgiving feast.

I was really really good.  The only sugar I had was a tiny chocolate chip cookie. Which hardly seemed irresponsible to me since it wasn't enough to make me sick.  Or so I thought.

Okay, well, really I didn't think very much.  I was busy baking and the cookies were there on the sink and one didn't seem like a bad idea at the time.

Sadly, three hours later as I stood in the corner of the bathroom, a bar of lathered up soap clenched in my teeth while Pab timed out a minute (I think anyway) it seemed like a very bad idea.  My eyes were full of embarrassed and slightly resentful tears.  Soap tastes really bad and stays on your teeth for a very long time. 

Save one single bite of each of my three pies (pumpkin, pecan and apple) there's to be no more sugar while I'm away.  None.  At all.  Under a threat / promise / warning of three minutes with the soap.  And a repeat of the punishment when I get home. 

Suddenly I feel trapped by the knowledge that I have to be good.  That I can't eat any more sugar without there being consequences  (I mean beyond the sugar making me ill which apparently isn't enough).  How annoying. There's a bit of resentment, yes.  Even about this entry.  I'm tired and this is hard to write before bed. 

But I also feel looked after and cared for even though we're apart. 

I just wish love tasted better, I guess. 

Or something.