"It might be mentioned that as a slave girl is a domenstic animal her diet is subject to supervision. Most masters will give some attention to the girl's diet, her rest, exercises, training, and so on. Some slavers, with certain markets in mind, such as certain of the Tahari markets, deliberately fatten slaves before their sale, sometimes keeping them in small cages, sometimes even force-feeding them, and so on. Most masters, on the other hand, will try to keep their slaves at whatever dimensions and weights are thought to be optimum for her health and beauty."   ---  pp. 41 Vagabonds of Gor

   I was asked a couple of months ago to discuss why there were so many slaves and submissives who were unfit. I put it off for a while because weight is a hot topic for any woman in this society and I was very reluctant to take on such a tender subject and risk hurting people's feelings. So, I am not going to talk about everyone, I am going to talk about me. I know there are people who know me, who will read this and sag, thinking I am going to pound on myself for not looking like a cover girl. I have been so twisted about my weight for so long that I believe some people thought it would be impossible for my attitudes about it to change. So, yeah, ok. Maybe it is time to talk about it.

   I let my weight define my self esteem for far too long. Rather than work on being my physical best each day, I got all tied up in how much I pressed down on the scale. I let the idea that I was not a perfect size 6 not only determine how I viewed my whole self, but I also let it paralyze me into a refusal to do anything to improve or maintain my entire body.

   Looking in the mirror, turning from side to side, trying to flex muscles that are weak from disuse. Sighing and swearing that the diet will begin tomorrow. Beating up on myself because I just couldn't seem to find the self-discipline to avoid the fridge. Giving it cute euphemisms to take the sting out: Pudgy, plump, fluffy. Starving, sweating, eating bizarre foods that the dog refuses. The jeans in the bottom drawer that are tight because of 'bloating', that no amount of grease could get my ass into. More weird food. More looking in the mirror. More twisting and turning, sighing 'I have just got to do something' before giving up to go sit at the computer.

   It is not cute. It is not a euphemism. It is fatness. It is unfitness. It is self-neglect.

   I think I put off getting fit because being unfit is a bad habit and I let the bad habit seduce me into inactivity. I think early on in Master's relationship with me, I had that female-centric "He should want me as I am and it should not matter how I look" thing going on. I thought of fitness/weight loss/self care as something I should do for myself, rather than as the simple upkeep and maintenance of a potential property. I think I put it off after I was owned because of my bad habits, and because it was so much easier to take care of all of Master's other properties and people. Give me 500 projects to do in a day and I could do them, yet I failed to find the time to take care of me. I neglected my 'upkeep' in a shocking fashion, disregarding that my 'maintenance' is just as important as keeping up His house, or making sure His children get enough fresh air. My thinking changed when I realized that I want to be as pleasing as I can to Him, which means improving my insides through writing and self-examination, but also my outside, through self-care and exercise. I understood that I needed to cease wasting time thinking, writing, and wondering 'how did I end up in such an unfit/unhealthy state?'

   I ended up here because I live in the most unfit society in the world. I sat at the computer when I should have been out walking or playing with the kids. I ate sugar and fat because it was easy and then smoked cigarettes to kill my appetite.

   I ended up here because I grew up thinking fit was the same as thin. I was rock hard, could lift a ton of weight but thought of myself as fat because I weighed 140 pounds. Nothing on me jiggled, but because of my weight, I was sure I was fat.

   I ended up here because I starved and gained, making myself weaker and weaker. I lost my gallbladder from doing this again and again.

   I ended up here because I stuffed myself full of food, trying to quell desires that society said I should not have.

   I ended up here because I did not take care of myself. I did not see myself as important enough. How ironic that my sense of self value should change now, when I am a property.

   I ended up here because I always found an excuse to do it tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

   Then tomorrow became today and today it was time to stop with the excuses.

   From the moment I figured out I was a submissive, I should have been working on more than understanding my feelings. I should have been improving my outside as well. Once I figured out I was a slave, I should have become even more dedicated to being my best, all over, inside and out. I have no excuse for unkempt hair, skin or teeth. I have no excuse for wearing ill-fitting clothes (especially since I have lovely, flattering clothes available to me). I have no excuse for being or remaining unfit. I did not suddenly wake up one morning fifteen pounds heavier and out of shape, I did this to myself. I do not have a hormone disorder, nor am I on medication that would cause me to feel groggy or retain fat or water. I will never be tall, I will never be scrawny, but if my "thing" is being pleasing to men, who are very visually oriented, then I should be attentive to maintaining my outside.

   Master saw something of value in me. Valuable enough to own. Valuable enough to enslave. Valuable enough to say:

    "You know girl, I wouldn't want a model for a girl. They are too thin and look ugly to me. But I think you would look better if you put on some muscle and lost maybe 15 pounds."

   I started apologizing for being fat, and got yelled at for being silly, and dense and for behaving in a way that is ~the~ reason that men will not talk honestly with a woman about her weight: Failure to hear what He is saying and translating it into our own personal 'I'm so fat message'. Thing is, I am not free anymore, so I do not get to sit around and beat myself up at my own whim. I had to listen, and repeat until He was sure that I heard and understood what He was saying.

   He wants me fitter.

   He wants me leaner.

   He likes me fine but misses the killer legs.

   He would be pleased if I took more care/maintained myself better.

   He has no desire to be the diet police as He thinks I will get more out of this if I motivate myself, rather than rely on 'punishment' to keep me out of the oreos.

   As I see it, procrastination on my part is tantamount to ignoring Him, an idea that gives me the cold sweats. I ~like~ it when He is happy with me, or when He offers me an 'atta girl' for doing something extra that He finds pleasing.

   Instead of sitting around bemoaning my lack of size six-ness, I thought about some of the things I have learned, from neuropsychology to slave positions. Never have I backed down or ceased striving to get better at any of the jobs I have done. I have applied myself until I understood the job at hand and then done the job, trying each time to get better. The notable exception to this has been my self-care, where I got stuck at figuring out the whys and never really defining the job. "Get fit", "take care of myself", "be the best I can" are just too big, too amorphous, to be effective job definition.

   Effective job definition, for me, always starts with a list:

   I am a slave, and I want to be pleasing.

   I am His slave, so I want to please Him.

   Master wants me to take care of myself.

   I will care for myself as well as I care for everything else in this house.

   I will improve a little bit every day.

   This is about being the best I can, inside and out, today, and making myself better for tomorrow.

   Nobody expects me to defy reality and become 18 again, or be Kate Moss.

   There are the big concepts, and now on to the details.

   I love sugar, I love fat. I am genetically programmed to like these foods because I am a woman, so I will always have to deal with a love of butter and the facility with which it sticks to my thighs. With the exception of a hormone surge every month that drives me to act like the salt creature on Star Trek, I have learned to change my eating a little bit every day. Begging for chips and chocolate every month like clockwork does not make me a failure, it makes me a female. I love coffee with cream and sugar and as long as Master will let me have it, I will drink it. Since I do not want to give all this up entirely, I need to begin with limiting it. Every day, a little less sugar. Every day, a little less fat.

   I know that I fail to eat regularly and that neglecting Master's property by starving it is just about as bad as stuffing it full of salted chocolate-dipped butter. Every day I try to get a little more regular with my eating schedule, and a little more low-fat high volume with the foods that get put into his slave.

   Any time I need to lift something, there is a 30 pound, young Gorean that demands constant lifting. He will be lifted muchly and well by the mommyslave, and he does like those arm exercises I do while holding him. Besides, it is almost summer, a lovely time to just go out and play. Play. Not exercise, not aerobics, but play. Run around and tag the trees, follow the kids' lead as they remind me of how to discover the world. Have some fun through active play, every day. If that's not enough, then there will be time to join the Y next winter.

   To those that know me....see the difference? This is not about hating myself so much I want to starve myself away, or berating myself for being something I am not. This is about being the best at being me. This is about increasing my value to Master. This is about applying myself to the job of self-care the way I applied myself to learning to make bèarnaise, or quilt, or manage a vivarium, or keep my mouth from running away with me too much.

   For the slaves and submissives reading this, I hope that today, just for a minute, you take or make the time to care for the development of your body. Think about it: You have spent lots of time developing your mind, your attitudes, your dreams. Why not spend a little bit of time working on your external presentation? If it helps, know that today is a day that one other slave in the world is working on her 'packaging' too.

   This girl wishes everyone most well, and thanks all that took the time to email her with comments and suggestions. She welcomes any and all comments and suggestions.

kessia{Sage}