Lying to my parents.

So work is going well. It’s really the one thing that keeps me sane, even though it’s the craziest place in the world. Whenever I go to work I’m reminded that my life isn’t that weird after all. The other women will tell the sordid stories of their personal lives and suddenly I feel a little more normal. I really like my job, well most of the time. Of course there are clients that gross me out and times that I imagine being somewhere else, but I think every job is like that.

But all up, I love it. I’m not stressed out, I can work whenever I want, I don’t think about work when I’m not at work and the money is pretty good. One problem I’m having though is the whole ‘parents’ thing. I’ve put off calling my mother for the last month just because I don’t want to lie to her. I could tell her some story about working in a cafe, every time having to make up more bullshit about the fake job role. Thinking about it makes me sick, but what option do I have. Explain to her what a dominatrix is. Tell her the PG version of what I really do. Don’t worry, I’m very tempted. Now you realise how little I want to lie to her; I’m willing to tell her I kick men in the balls for a living. So I’m weighing it up. There is no way I’d tell my dad, but at least if I had mum on side I’d feel a little better.

In an ideal world I could be as outwardly proud of my job as I am on the inside. Maybe one day.