Pretty...

Maxearnest had me wear my tutu for him today.  I was mortified to do that.  But then he told me how pretty I was.  It was very sweet

This wasn't my hungry young girl--this was even younger--the 8-year-old or 10-year-old that wanted to be a ballerina.  I didn't even really realize that a little part of me still wanted to be a pretty ballerina.  But if you look at my bedroom, you'd think it was the room of a young girl (as long as you didn't open the night stand and find the erotica and kink stuff...).  But there is a lot of floral stuff, a canopy bed, and let's not forget the stuffed animals. 

Maxearnest wants me to trust him in everything, and that seems to mean I'm supposed to stop questioning myself.  He's the one to tell me if I've done something wrong.  I'm supposed to stop monitoring.  Crazy.  But lovely.