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| Dollface |
Firstly, TUNE. I've been meaning to write this blog for a while, but for some reason or another I've not got round to it. Then I indulged in a bit of 'Manhunter' in all its cold eighties synthy glory, and was reminded of this bloody classic. And so I got thinking again of strength, and what it means to me.
I've long lauded my delight and appreciation of physical strength in a partner. Kind of makes sense, really; nothing worse in life than a limp handshake or a punch that feels like the accidental nudge of a tired commuter. No punch should ever feel like it needs to be accompanied by an “ooh, sorry love”.
It runs a little deeper than that, though. I love to feel overpowered, overcome, helpless in my physical inferiority. I know some folk have a fight-to-the-death kind of kink wherein it's a survival of the fittest; but the day I punch @Felix_culpa back in the face is the day when various dictators ice skate to work. I've long maintained I'd make an awful sadist; jumping backwards with my hands over my mouth and exclaiming “ohmygoshimsosorry” isn't really conducive to sadomasochistic heaven (unless we're talking about an exercise in rather unpleasant humiliation).
Anyway, I digress. I don't get aroused by a fair fight, the good clean sort. I don't want a scrap, 'Mr and Mrs Smith' style, where both parties are wearing shiners and featuring oh-so-aesthetically-pleasing sheens of sweat across their chests. I want blood, sweat and tears, but I want them to be my own. I want my body to be the weaker of the two, the defeated party, the passive receptacle of fists/feet/household implements to hand (now I make it sound like a get battered around the head with, say, a spatula or a lampshade. I don't). I want to fetishise male/female dynamics, momentarily revel in the female = physically weaker.
I know, I know. Fifty steps backwards for feminism. And it stands at massive odds at what I value in my own physicality. I'm physically weaker than my partner, but only because he possesses that wiry, steel-tight strength that I could never emulate. One of my ideas of a cracking good time is to swing a kettlebell around, watching my face grow ever tomato-like and delighting in the aches the next day. I love the tightness of muscle under skin, the split of a calf, the dip-and-flare of a defined tricep. I smile inwardly at how I get asked ahead of some of my male colleagues to help move office equipment (then, when we're finished, I swig a beer and flop my HUGE PENIS onto the table).
This is where I appreciate the duality of it all. I love being strong, crafting and honing physical ability. Sure, I won't be slathering fake tan onto myself and looking like Jodie Marsh any time soon (I mean, complete non-story, but one has to admire her dedication), but I can get by. I saw a t-shirt with the logo 'Strong Is The New Skinny' and smiled to myself; what a positive motto to have (read: steal).
So the victory is sweeter when it happens. When I crumple, when I dissolve and fall to my knees or curl into a ball, I feel all the more defeated. Where's that strength got me now? What use is it? Silly girl, to think you stood a chance! He overcame you, big strong you, and now you're in the same position as any other girl who would be carried away by a stiff breeze.
So. I'm good to move heavy equipment and carry in the shopping bags with the cat food and Diet Cokes, but don't expect the same prowess after a couple of right hooks. Because, frankly, I morph into the kid you picked last for P.E.
| 9 Feb 12, 12:08 AM Navare UK(B), 9 yrs  |
Manhunter....one of my all time favourites "just you and me now sport".....Michael Mann at his best and a corking soundtrack packed with tune after tune.... N.x http://uk.groups.yahoo.com/group/Impulsion_group |
| 9 Feb 12, 12:49 AM PearlBlueSoul UK(EC), 2 yrs |
I'm coming round to the idea that part of the liberation and satisfaction of submission (or any willful imbalance to your disadvantage) is that it's an antidote to the misery that comes from the tragedy of the commons. We must know, on some level, just how messed up things are thanks to excessive self-interest in the benefits of our actions obscuring the excessive costs to people around us. And so, to reverse that relationship? It's almost like a desire to save and nourish everything, rather than consume and destroy it. Hell, even if such thoughts never factor into how people feel about it all, it's a pretty sweet way of looking at things. Submission ain't so much mordito as libido, or at least has a healthy dose of both tucked away. Anyway. |
| 9 Feb 12, 7:16 PM Silly_Rabbit UK(BN), 9 mths |
Very well put - I enjoyed reading this.. It is art that makes life, makes interest, makes importance, for our consideration and application of these things, and I know of no substitute whatever for the force and beauty of its process. |
