when he says no

possessive-daddy:

crimson-uncovered:

I love begging him to extend my bedtime. I love when he says no. 

I love asking if I can buy a sugary latte. I love when he says no.

I love asking if I can skip my workout because laziness. I love when he says no.

I love begging to watch an extra hour of TV on a weeknight. I love when he says no.

I love asking if I can buy that pretty top I saw when I went to return something, even though my credit card bill is ridiculous. I love when he says no.

I don’t ask because I want to be denied. Not really. I ask because I want something I’ve always immediately granted myself. I ask because I have desires and impulses and I need to express them. And even though there’s the teeniest bit of disappointment when he says no, there is also relief and inner peace. I feel taken care of. I feel like I’m becoming a better person with improved habits. I feel healthier, happier and less stressed. No more guilt. It’s gone.

It makes his yeses so rewarding. The latte tastes sweeter. The next episode of that TV show is funnier. The top is prettier and feels worth the money.  With his permission, I can have guilt-free indulgences. I can find joy in things I’d often shamed myself for, the things you’re supposed to enjoy. That was no way to live.

 I said it before it was my reality, and I’ll say it again:

Everything just feels better when you have permission.

“Everything just feels better when you have permission.”