A word on hairbrushes:
Here is what I wrote first on this subject, when Samuel asked me to:
Just say no! I hate that hairbrush. He makes me keep it in my purse. As a reminder, he says. I hate that hairbrush.
Here is what I wrote after a little reflection … and a couple of threats to see it in action:
As far as implements are concerned, the hairbrush, or any wooden implement, is among my least favorite toys in Samuel’s vast arsenal. When he tells me to go get the hairbrush, I feel pure concentrated dread. A little goes a long way with a hairbrush. This glaringly obvious fact seems to escape many an HoH. And while they think they may be “taking it easy on you,” just its very use is a notch up on the disciplinary rung among implements. Wood is unforgiving: the sting seems to last longer; the bite is more cutting.
Thankfully, it’s not used on me casually or often. When it is, it is a very effective “bad behavior” deterrent. I’d rather be spanked with anything else … and Samuel knows it.
Samuel insists that I keep it in my purse at all times. A rather cumbersome obligation, since it is large and heavy and awkward to fumble around when trying to locate smaller objects, such as my keys. We had discussed me having permission to remove it, since we were seldom using it. Samuel did let me take it out for a while several months ago, but something happened — neither of us remembers the details — and now it is back in its hated place.
There is something unique about the hairbrush in that, unlike many other implements, most people would not suspect the various possible ways it can be used. This is not the case, for example, with paddles or a tawse or a strap. In this respect, the hairbrush is like the belt: It’s always nearby, and looks quite innocent, but … there it is, lurking in the dark recesses of my purse, hoping for the opportunity to be applied to more than my head!