Fake, plastic penises.
The grammar nerd in me had to look up if the plural of penis is peni.
It could be penises or penes.
Whichever you choose, they're everywhere.
Last night when Papi was getting ready to leave for work, I came around the corner and there it was.
A bulge in my love's boy ginch.
I averted my head quickly enough, so Papi couldn't see that I saw.
It wouldn't matter if mi esposo knew I saw, but there's some part of me that says, "Don't look! For the love of god, if you look then it means you're ok with it!!!"
Earlier this week, a Blogger Friend has sent us a wee gift.
Well, not quite wee. It's a $50 certificate for the online store Good Vibrations, and my love had immediately gone online and checked out our options.
I received a text from my love last night, "There's a packing thing I want and I think it is on that kinky website we have $ for. Can I get it? Or do you want something for both of us? I was gonna get it from another website, but saw it there too. You look and if you see something you really want, we can get it."
Normally, I would gladly hand over something to Papi before myself. I love to make mi esposo happy, but this had me in a bit of a tizzy.
I felt that I need to find something fast, or there will be another Plastic Penis in the house.
I mean really! Today, I got up and started to arrange my area for writing, and there was an open box on the ottoman with a penis inside.
I put it away for Papi, then limped ...
yeah ... the bitchy back is in a foul mood today from yesterday's strengthening ...
... to the kitchen to finish my blogging breakfast routine and saw a used workout towel sitting in one of the cubby holes in our shelf.
I thought I'd throw it in the wash.
However, when I picked it up, I noticed something squishy inside.
I unwrapped it and sure enough it was another Plastic Penis.
They're in my texts, in my kitchen, in the living room storage boxes and on my love.
It reminds me of one of the nightmares that I used to have. I don't really know why it's a nightmare, because really, I'm not the one being hurt in this reoccurring dream. Never-the-less, it scared me.
In this dream, I'm on a boardwalk that has been turned into an art exhibit. The exhibit is all about penes.
I would always wake up when I got to the penis wall: A glass encasing with hundreds of penes, freshly cut at the balls, and swimming in blood.
This filled wall is still etched in my mind.
I would stare at them, because they couldn't hurt me.
It was like I was mesmerized by them, almost as if I'd created the display myself and was proud of my work.
Anyway, I'm experiencing feelings that I've obviously stuffed away for a safe time to deal with them.
Then last night, I made my usual chocolate, coconut balls, and ate too many.
It's not abnormal. The first day I make them, I gorge, right on cue.
Then the nausea set in and I jokingly wrote to Papi like I do every time, "I ate too many balls."
The joking turned into my love wanting me to eat real balls.
I couldn't speak and froze.
I wrote back, "I don't know what to say :( I don't know how to talk about this. I'm so freaked out. I'm so sick in this area baby. I wish I wasn't."
I honestly feel like I'm back on that boardwalk.