If you know anything about me, you know I hate the term “daddy” so if you are wondering about it, yes, I am being a smartass by using that word in the title.
One of my favorite memories, that I wrote about on here, is when me and my sister Emily examined our dad’s belt, up close and personal. You can review the blog account of that here if you have a desire. Oddly, that entry was posted almost a year ago to the day. What the fuck is up with that? Sometimes I wonder about shit like that. At any rate, that memory holds a lot of fondness for me, but I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe because I am a warped individual.
I don’t think I’ve really described my dad’s belt much. Maybe it is maudlin to do so, I don’t know. What is the etiquette for talking about parental spankings anyway? Is there any? What about the etiquette for talking about spankings in general, is there etiquette for that? If there is etiquette please advise, but be aware I’ve never been one to follow etiquette.
I think the styles of belts have changed over the years. My dad wore several different belts and the one I was spanked with the most was the belt he wore for “everyday.” That belt was a particular style. It was thin. It was only an inch wide at the most, and I am guessing about ¼ inch thick. That might be a bit thick now that I think of it, but anyway his belt was narrow and plenty thick. Men wore narrower styles of belts in the fifties and it seems my dad never quite graduated to the wider style of belt worn in the late sixties and up thru the seventies. No, my dad wasn’t fashion conscious. He always wore a very narrow leather belt, and he still does. I can think of two different brown everyday belts he owned, and both were pretty much the same style.
His belt was genuine leather and not like the shiny patent leather belts you see hanging in stores these days that are meant to be decorative and wimpy and wouldn’t hurt a fly if they were used to spank someone. No, my dad’s belt was solid leather and sort of a rusty brown color. If you have ever been spanked with a belt, you may realize that a narrow or thin belt tends to sting a bit more than a wider or thicker belt. At least in my opinion and experience that is the case.
At any rate, of significance to me was that my dad chose to spank us with the belt he wore. I think that was a somewhat unusual decision on his part. Most parents who spank their children have a spanking implement set aside for that express purpose. They might have a special belt that hangs in the closet, or a hairbrush in the drawer, or a paddle in the cupboard, or whatever. But not at my house. No, at my house my dad used the belt he was wearing, or should I say, was wearing the belt he used, I’m not sure which is better.
The fact that he used the belt that hung around his waist made it more personal. If the belt had been separate from him, I may have grown to hate only the belt, and not necessarily him, but my association with my dad and that belt are linked together in my mind forever. The belt was a part of him, and always on his body. I think as a child I had difficulty separating the two, and frankly, I still do sometimes.
My dad usually had his shirt tucked in and I could see that fucking belt all the time when he was around. I would look over at him and see the belt around his waist and get all nervous and shaky. I didn’t want to go near him or his belt. Is this making any sense? I sometimes make more sense than others.
Anyway, in my opinion there were a lot of strange feelings and psychological implications that came into play because my dad chose to use the belt he was wearing. I thought it was unusual even when I was a kid. Most of my friends were spanked with something that was NOT worn by their parents. Their parents kept the spanking implements separate. I even remember thinking as a kid, “I wish he wouldn’t spank me with the belt he has on.” I still wonder, even today, why he made that choice. Perhaps it was because he didn’t want to be like his own father, who used a strap that hung in the back of the garage in a shed, next to the woodpile. Or maybe he knew it was a badass thing to do, to whip us with his own belt, and that was the sort of thing he was aiming for. I really don’t know.
I want to find out why he did the things he did, but I can’t bring myself to ask him. Do I expect to find the answers on my own? I have no idea. Perhaps some things are better left a mystery anyway. Maybe there isn’t an answer and my dad couldn’t tell me his reasons for doing what he did, even if I asked him. It might have just been a matter of convenience that he chose to use the belt he wore.
One thing is certain, I can’t find a picture of a belt that is like my dad’s belt on the internet anywhere, although, I confess I have not searched high and low or anything. I don’t know if they even make the exact same belt my dad wore, probably not. The picture of the narrow brown belt pictured above might give you some idea what his belt was like, its kinda close actually. My dad’s belt may have been narrower than that one, but whatever it was, it fucking hurt.