I am a massive child at heart. I love kids books, kids films, kids toys, honestly there’s a bit of me that never really grew up and I will preserve that for the rest of my life. So when H asked me what my favourite Disney songs were I held out for quite a while before giving in and revealing a few of my favourites.
To be clear, they were beating me and pinching already bruised skin and generally being mean to get me to part with the information. Why was I so reluctant? Well, I knew it would be used against me.
H seems to see it as a challenge to ruin childhood memories. From finding Mr Tumnus between my boobs to their stand up bit about a tattoo which makes my love of Eeyore a little less innocent.
One thing they’ve enjoyed since we got together is hitting me to a musical beat. One of their favourites is ‘I’ll make a man out of you’ from Mulan. So I now have very mixed feels about that song. I feel it’s wrong to be turned on by a Disney song, really. But I will forever be turned on by this one.
Thanks ,H, thanks.
So, when they tortured some of my fave Disney songs out of me, they were feeling particularly sadistic. I know, I know, H is generally a big ol Sadistic sod but this particular time they were reeeallllllyyyy sadistic.
Was the ideal time to introduce them to some of my favourite mean implements wasn’t it? Of course. So, they had hold of my favourite studded paddle. I love that thing. I have often said ‘I could be beaten with this all day long’ of course, H saw that as a challenge and they soon made me realise I couldn’t have THEM beat me with it all day.
Holy Fucking Ouch.
And then they made me find a song on my phone.
I suppose I should be glad it was ‘I’ll make a man out of you’ and not The Bare Necessities (I really do fucking love that song and I listened to it on repeat as a kid, pretending to be Mowgli floating down the river on Baloo’s tum) but still, to be beaten to a Disney song is, I feel, particularly sadistic.
“Lets get down to business, to defeat the Huns…”
The familiar beat started and I tried my best not to wriggle. I really did but my God, H was hitting me hard and I ended up dancing my feet around, thrashing my head from side to side and generally trying to process the fierceness of their hits.
They do read me well, though. Dialling it back after a while to give me a little bit of a break.
Thing is, then I was able to concentrate on the music.
And when I hear something I like, I sing along.
And when I sang along H hit me harder.
So I was singing happily along
“ as swift as the coursing river…”
They hit me harder.
“With all the force of a great typhoon…”
And again they hit harder. I lost track then and I was more absorbed with taking the hits. But I was aware of the music, so when this bit came round again I found myself singing along.
I knew I shouldn’t. I knew if I did they’d hit me harder and my arse was really fucking sore and hot. I really should have kept my mouth shut. I really should have.
“With all the strength of a raging fire.”
I wanted to scream as the hits got harder but I couldn’t. I really had to sing my favourite line.
So I did.
“Mysterious as the dark side of the moon.”
And my moon was well darkened, I can tell you. My arse was sore and tight and tender.
But what I find particularly fascinating about this is that my compulsion to sing along to a Disney song is greater than my sense of self preservation.
That says rather a lot about me doesn’t it?