Last week I had the pleasure of attending my graduation ceremony in person. It was the first graduation ceremony at my University since the pandemic and I’m very lucky it coincided with the end of my degree. While I knew it was going to take place, I didn’t know if I wanted to attend for a while. If you’re a regular reader of my blog you know my relationship with my mum isn’t the best. We didn’t have contact for about two years when she reached out asking about my upcoming graduation. She wanted to attend and this made me feel like I wanted to call it off. Since I started building a life in Scotland, I had envisioned taking people that have actually supported me throughout my degree. If my mum were to show up, I’d be consumed by anxiety and would be unable to enjoy the day. This left me with two options: Either I’d graduate in absentia or tell my mum not to come.
I talked to my best friend about the topic for a while and concluded that I shouldn’t cancel the ceremony just to avoid my mum. Doing this would jeopardise my opportunity to celebrate and really acknowledge my accomplishment. I thought about who I would want to bring instead; My Mistress, as she’s been a real anchor to me. At the same time, I was scared of asking her. I didn’t want her to feel pressured or think I wanted her to take on a different role other than Mistress and friend in my life. I ran over the best way to ask her several times. The topic had been on my mind for weeks before she ever knew about it. Then finally, I asked her on the phone and her answer was straightforward and simple. “Of course.” Why do I worry about things so much? I don’t know!
Unfortunately, my ceremony would take place at 10.30 in the morning and public transport would only just get us there in time. Moreover, there’s no train station in the place that I studied and it’s a pain to get there; I didn’t want my Mistress to be stressed out or to have to pay a lot of money. I decided to rent a car to bypass those potential nuisances but on graduation day, we ended up leaving too late.
As a result, in the drive up I was a ball of stress, possibly to the extent Mistress hadn’t seen before. We missed two exits and our arrival time changed to past the deadline for the ticket and gown collection. Mistress stayed optimistic however and called the University for me. They reassured us it’d be fine, as long as we were on time for the start of the ceremony.
We made it in the end and the ceremony was nice. I looked up when the vice chancellor conferred my degree and noticed her smile at me. Then when I walked back off the stage I felt awkward as hell for absolutely no reason and thought to myself: It’s fine, Mistress will enjoy how awkward you are.
Once the ceremony finished and Mistress and I found each other she noted endearingly how amused she was about my awkward appearance when I crossed the stage. The mention made me blush and smile at the same time while I exclaimed how I couldn’t help it.
We got some cake and a drink at the reception and then made our way to the end of the party tent where a professional photographer should have been. Their tools and the set up was there but there was no photographer around. Mistress said she’d simply take a picture of me in that case, then suggested I open some of the buttons of my shirt. I must look very uptight this way, I thought, blissfully unaware of Mistress’ ulterior motives and let her unbutton me.
When I set foot on the stage for the photograph and Mistress picked up her polaroid she said: “Now show me your boobs.”
“Wait, what? My boobs?”
“Yes, go on.”
I glanced at the entrance and grew extra aware of the chit chat on the other side of the canvas. I knew dozens of people were standing at just mere meters from us. I looked at Mistress and then quickly pulled out my boobs and smiled. She took the picture and I immediately closed the buttons of my shirt again.
We had to wait for the picture to the develop.
Mistress likes to take polaroids for her kinky picture book that she’ll admire when she’s old and fragile.
A family of three walked into the space and looked surprised to find that there was no photographer. I instantly felt like it was time for us to go, but Mistress picked up a small conversation and made a joke after which they left.
She took out the polaroid and observed that the light had been overexposed; we needed to take it again.
“This is great now that you’re extra flustered because people just walked in,” she remarked.
I grimaced and then hastily jumped back onto the stage. I struggled to keep my eyes on the camera instead of the entrance, but quickly pulled my boobs out once more and Mistress took the picture.
“Let’s hope this one is right,” she said teasingly.
When we left the tent I thought of how happy I was that Mistress was here with me instead of my mum and I felt grateful that we’d been able to have a little fun like that. She kept the second picture and gave me the first one that is overexposed.
Once we left my University, Mistress took me to a restaurant where we had a delicious Tapas selection. And, for when we got home we had a scene planned.