And they call this therapy...

Joy is a Dominatrix and I am a Submissive. I had this moment of clarity shortly after I started physiotherapy.

Don't get me wrong, Joy is a wonderful woman. She is smart, perky and friendly. We clicked upon meeting. However, it also became clear that she called the shots, and I poured them.

During the initial physio assessment, there was a strange and unsettling focus on my breasts. "Pick those girls up" barked Joy, "Point them up". This action would apparently pull my shoulders back, and aid in moving my left shoulder blade back the 1 inch it appears to have migrated. It also made me very uncomfortable.

You see, it has been 3 weeks since I have worn a bra. Not overly well endowed, I do, however, have what I like to think of as a somewhat perky rack. But I have also noted the slow and steady slide of "the girls" towards the floor. I am in my mid-forties and gravity is pulling on me hard. Gravity is winning, and I am but a slave to the universe.

So on command, I pulled my shoulders back and the girls swung upward. They apparently had not seen this much daylight in a very long time, because before I knew it, they were inching their way back to familiar territory...my navel.

The girls, it seems, like dark places. They like the nether regions. They love being able to caress my belly button and glory in their ability to clean lint from my navel. They revel in their ability to massage and perform pedicures on my feet. They are soul mates with my soles. But one look from Dominatrix Joy had them scurrying for chest again.

So at home, I practiced, practiced, practiced. I was afraid to fail, because Joy had threatened to tape a rolled up towel between my shoulder blades if I failed. What's a girl to do?

Unfortunately, Joy was away last week and I encountered the unsuspecting Jeff. As he perused my chart and asked how I was progressing, I proudly thrust my bust to the sky. "Look at the girls" I said. "Look how far up they are and how long they can stay there".

Dead silence.

Apparently Jeff was more interested in how my shoulder was doing then how well behaved the girls had become under Joys strict tutelage. Hmmm...

So after clearing his throat numerous times, Jeff decided we should move along and perform some activities on my arm. So, dangle, dangle, dangle, swing, swing, swing, and we were done. Or so I thought.

But then Jeff decided I would benefit from some high tech Dr. Ho contraption that would aid in healing. Like the good Submissive I am, I was eager to please. So I struggled with my T-shirt, bending, twisting, tugging, but to no avail.

"Jeff" I asked, "can you help me take my shirt off?"

"Oh, oh" was the embarrassed, blushing reply. "I haven't been asked to do that in a very long time...my hands might shake" he replied. A very awkward silence followed.

I looked at him, he looked and me, I looked down at the floor, hoping to be swallowed up by some mutant cockroach that might pass by. And then it struck me! I had a tank top on underneath my T shirt!

I offered to hold the tank top while he removed the shirt, and then all was good. He applied the Dr. Ho with the utmost professionalism, and I settled down for my treatment.

As Jeff was leaving a thought struck me. "Jeff," I asked, "Should I point the girls up while I'm sitting here?"

The response was silence and the soft click of the door as it closed. So much for trying to please people.