I've had the Mirena IUD since Tuesday afternoon. It sucked epic levels of ass for the first 36-hours and then the cramping started easing up quite a bit. Tylenol helped a lot and having help with my kids was necessary so I'm very thankful to the friends & family who stepped up to help me out while I was busy crying about my snatch.
My period abruptly ended late Friday morning. This was entirely unexpected as I can't recall the last time I had such a short period. I was like, "Uh-uh, I know this game," and I wore a liner all day today because I fully expected another downpour of blood because that's what my body normally deals me. It never happened so :::thumbsup::: to a super-short period. I'm hopeful that it's a sign of things to come.
Speaking of coming. . .
I woke up having an orgasm today!!!
What's that, you say? I woke up having an orgasm today!! I don't customarily have spontaneous Os and I've only had what can only be called wet dreams in pregnancy so I can't help but wonder if the IUD is to blame. Or, more accurately, to thank.
I have often suspected that the hormones of pregnancy are why my libido spikes to the stratosphere while I'm PG and this teenaged boy sex drive yields the occasional orgasmic wake up call. Pregnancy orgasms are the best anyway - something about the uterus being so much larger, I suppose - and getting one without even trying is like a special gift. If having the best wake up call ever is a side effect of having the IUD, I'm pretty sure that I will insist on having one in my uterus until the day I die.
Doctor: But, Mrs. My-Name-Here, you're 75-years old and went through menopause decades ago. There is no reason why you need an IUD.
Me: Oh, yes, there is!!
Showing posts with label sex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sex. Show all posts
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Thursday, July 28, 2011
I'm Back in the Saddle Again!
I thought the Aerosmith song reference is appropriate because I'm finally allowed to get back on the horse. . .so to speak. Giddy-up!
Some more good news from my OB appointment yesterday is that my sex restriction has FINALLY been lifted. I haven't been allowed to have sex since I got a positive pregnancy test because I ended up experiencing over a month of spotting and bleeding. I've continued to have occasional spotting episodes so it's officially been over three months of no sex up in my house. Not only no sex, but total pelvic rest means no masturbation and no orgasms. Nothing, nada, zilch, zip.
As I told my OB at my previous appointment, it's become a no man's land down below. It's been so unused that I'm pretty sure that my daily shower is the only thing keeping the cobwebs out of my c*nt. My special fun zone was totally shut down and out of operation. I was seriously considering rubbing myself against random strangers on the street at one point to see if it would bring at least a tiny measure of sexual satisfaction, but frottage isn't really my thing. That and I don't really want to be labeled as a sex offender.
I mentioned in yesterday's blog post that I still experience spotting episodes. When do I experience spotting? After orgasm. Now, before you think that I've been flouting the pelvic rest rule and engaging in some masturbatory fun, I feel compelled to defend myself and say that I haven't. Only the love and concern that I have for my unborn baby could keep me from going for it on my own. Seriously, this has been a ridiculously long dry spell in my sex life.
So how is it that I'm coming? Well, I've been experiencing spontaneous orgasms in my sleep. Actually, they wake me up out of a sound sleep. I know, I know! I'm a 35-year old middle-aged woman, not a 15-year old teenaged boy. It is what it is and I can't explain it.
My OB was surprised that I'm having what can only be called wet dreams. I told him that it's not like I'm doing it on purpose and I have no idea why it's happening, but that it is distressing because it results in spotting. Of course, if it weren't for the spotting that occurs afterward, I'd be pretty freaking thrilled with myself and mentally giving my snatch a high-five.
After I explained that I'm not intentionally doing anything to make myself come, he casually mentioned that some women would kill to have such a pleasant wake up call and indicated that he's never had a patient tell him that they have a similar experience. I don't disagree that I'm damn lucky that this is happening (again, if it weren't for the spotting, I'd be totally thrilled), but I find it hard to believe that he's never had another patient have spontaneous orgasms in their sleep. He's been an OB/GYN for nearly 30 years and has probably had thousands upon thousands of patients so I can't possibly be the only one! Later, in his office, I pushed him on that point.
He insists that he's never had another patient indicate that they have had a similar occurrence and, due to the design of female anatomy and her sexual response, it's highly unusual to have a spontaneous orgasm with absolutely zero physical stimulation. Yeah, I'm pretty familiar with what it takes to make me come so I already know that. I smirked and nodded my head when he basically told me to not worry about it and just relax & enjoy.
I'm hoping to get some reassurance from readers that spontaneous orgasm is something that happens all the time in pregnancy - even if no one has told my doctor about it. I mean, I can't be that friggin' unusual. . .can I? Speaking anonymously, have you ever had this happen? If you told your doctor about it (frankly, I wouldn't have if it weren't for that stupid spotting), what did they say? My fingers are crossed that I'm not officially titled The World's Horniest Pregnant Woman.
Some more good news from my OB appointment yesterday is that my sex restriction has FINALLY been lifted. I haven't been allowed to have sex since I got a positive pregnancy test because I ended up experiencing over a month of spotting and bleeding. I've continued to have occasional spotting episodes so it's officially been over three months of no sex up in my house. Not only no sex, but total pelvic rest means no masturbation and no orgasms. Nothing, nada, zilch, zip.
As I told my OB at my previous appointment, it's become a no man's land down below. It's been so unused that I'm pretty sure that my daily shower is the only thing keeping the cobwebs out of my c*nt. My special fun zone was totally shut down and out of operation. I was seriously considering rubbing myself against random strangers on the street at one point to see if it would bring at least a tiny measure of sexual satisfaction, but frottage isn't really my thing. That and I don't really want to be labeled as a sex offender.
I mentioned in yesterday's blog post that I still experience spotting episodes. When do I experience spotting? After orgasm. Now, before you think that I've been flouting the pelvic rest rule and engaging in some masturbatory fun, I feel compelled to defend myself and say that I haven't. Only the love and concern that I have for my unborn baby could keep me from going for it on my own. Seriously, this has been a ridiculously long dry spell in my sex life.
So how is it that I'm coming? Well, I've been experiencing spontaneous orgasms in my sleep. Actually, they wake me up out of a sound sleep. I know, I know! I'm a 35-year old middle-aged woman, not a 15-year old teenaged boy. It is what it is and I can't explain it.
My OB was surprised that I'm having what can only be called wet dreams. I told him that it's not like I'm doing it on purpose and I have no idea why it's happening, but that it is distressing because it results in spotting. Of course, if it weren't for the spotting that occurs afterward, I'd be pretty freaking thrilled with myself and mentally giving my snatch a high-five.
After I explained that I'm not intentionally doing anything to make myself come, he casually mentioned that some women would kill to have such a pleasant wake up call and indicated that he's never had a patient tell him that they have a similar experience. I don't disagree that I'm damn lucky that this is happening (again, if it weren't for the spotting, I'd be totally thrilled), but I find it hard to believe that he's never had another patient have spontaneous orgasms in their sleep. He's been an OB/GYN for nearly 30 years and has probably had thousands upon thousands of patients so I can't possibly be the only one! Later, in his office, I pushed him on that point.
He insists that he's never had another patient indicate that they have had a similar occurrence and, due to the design of female anatomy and her sexual response, it's highly unusual to have a spontaneous orgasm with absolutely zero physical stimulation. Yeah, I'm pretty familiar with what it takes to make me come so I already know that. I smirked and nodded my head when he basically told me to not worry about it and just relax & enjoy.
I'm hoping to get some reassurance from readers that spontaneous orgasm is something that happens all the time in pregnancy - even if no one has told my doctor about it. I mean, I can't be that friggin' unusual. . .can I? Speaking anonymously, have you ever had this happen? If you told your doctor about it (frankly, I wouldn't have if it weren't for that stupid spotting), what did they say? My fingers are crossed that I'm not officially titled The World's Horniest Pregnant Woman.
Monday, July 11, 2011
I'm Baaaack! (and possibly grosser than ever)
Guess who's back? I took a looong overdue vacation and gave my blog a break at the same time. Now it's time to shield your kiddo's eyes from your monitor because this blog is back up & running.
I wasn't sure if I'd be allowed to go on this trip since I've been on a travel restriction once this pregnancy began. My doctor made it clear than car travel would not terminate this pregnancy, but since the pregnancy did begin with a solid month of experiencing a majorly bloody mess, he recommended staying close to home so I could see him right away if further problems arose. Considering that I've had spotting after the initial daily bleeding stopped, it seems like it was prudent to follow his advice.
I saw my doctor on the 1st and we not only heard our sweet baby's heartbeat via doppler (I never tire of hearing that sound!), but we also were given the auditory treat of several jarring THWAP! sounds. Yes, that would be my baby kicking the heck out of me. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but this baby seems even more active than my son was in the womb. I might end up with internal bruises by the time 40-weeks rolls around!
The doctor gave a tepid green light to our travel plans so we set out after leaving his office. My husband was in the office with me and I'm glad I had his interpretation of what the doctor actually said versus what I thought I heard or I may not have gone. I really have a bad way of not hearing anything that a doctor says, any doctor, and it really is helpful to have hubs' ears help me out.
I should add that, much to our dismay, my pelvic rest has been ordered to continue. I don't think I've mentioned it in this blog, but I haven't been allowed to have sex since I got a positive pregnancy test and I bled for over a month afterward. I guess my pelvis must need further rest because I've had additional episodes of spotting in the last two weeks (I also did it for several days on vacation), but it really is getting old to not be allowed to sex up my husband. Heck, it was already old once the initial bleeding stopped and I was up for some action. Never let it be said that I don't sacrifice for my children, right?
I've been resting my pelvis according to the doctor's orders, but I find that I have scant spotting after I have an orgasm. No, I'm not getting a little self-love on the side. I'm embarrassed to admit that I've actually been awakened out of a sound sleep from the spasms of an O. Yes, really. Apparently all this pelvic rest is causing my body to behave like an unsatisfied teenaged boy and I'm getting my orgasms wherever I can. . .even if it's only from dreams.
Other than a couple of tearful hormone-fueled meltdowns in front of my family (I'm oh-so-classy, eh?), I had a great trip and feel somewhat refreshed. I only feel somewhat refreshed because I'm actually more fatigued now than I was just a couple of short weeks ago. I can't figure out what the problem is other than I did follow my doctor's orders and discontinued taking the progesterone suppositories (I weaned off vs going cold turkey, for those who are interested) while I was on vacation. So the upside is that my vadge is no longer a constantly drippy suppository-filled mess, but the downside is that I want to sleep all the time.
I've spent months feeling constantly wet down below, courtesy of the progesterone suppositories, and I was looking forward to finally being able to wear panties without a pad to catch the, uh, drippings. It is nice to not wear a pad, but I've discovered that my ladyparts are still a bit on the moist side. I don't know if I'm constantly feeling this sensation because I'm chronically horny of if pregnancy-induced leukorrhea has finally made an appearance. Actually, it could have been there all along for all I know and the melting suppositories just masked what was naturally occurring. It is an uncomfortable feeling, particularly with my history of bleeding and spotting, and sometimes I'm not sure what I might find when I wipe. Honestly though, as long as it isn't pink or red, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I'm over 14-weeks now and, though I've gained less than five pounds, I am inexplicably showing. This makes absolutely zero sense to me and fills me with particular dread because ALL of my maternity clothes are packed and gone. The few clothes that I still have in the house will have to last for another couple of months or I'll have to drag my old bones out to the store and do a bit of shopping before too long - bleh!
I wasn't sure if I'd be allowed to go on this trip since I've been on a travel restriction once this pregnancy began. My doctor made it clear than car travel would not terminate this pregnancy, but since the pregnancy did begin with a solid month of experiencing a majorly bloody mess, he recommended staying close to home so I could see him right away if further problems arose. Considering that I've had spotting after the initial daily bleeding stopped, it seems like it was prudent to follow his advice.
I saw my doctor on the 1st and we not only heard our sweet baby's heartbeat via doppler (I never tire of hearing that sound!), but we also were given the auditory treat of several jarring THWAP! sounds. Yes, that would be my baby kicking the heck out of me. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but this baby seems even more active than my son was in the womb. I might end up with internal bruises by the time 40-weeks rolls around!
The doctor gave a tepid green light to our travel plans so we set out after leaving his office. My husband was in the office with me and I'm glad I had his interpretation of what the doctor actually said versus what I thought I heard or I may not have gone. I really have a bad way of not hearing anything that a doctor says, any doctor, and it really is helpful to have hubs' ears help me out.
I should add that, much to our dismay, my pelvic rest has been ordered to continue. I don't think I've mentioned it in this blog, but I haven't been allowed to have sex since I got a positive pregnancy test and I bled for over a month afterward. I guess my pelvis must need further rest because I've had additional episodes of spotting in the last two weeks (I also did it for several days on vacation), but it really is getting old to not be allowed to sex up my husband. Heck, it was already old once the initial bleeding stopped and I was up for some action. Never let it be said that I don't sacrifice for my children, right?
I've been resting my pelvis according to the doctor's orders, but I find that I have scant spotting after I have an orgasm. No, I'm not getting a little self-love on the side. I'm embarrassed to admit that I've actually been awakened out of a sound sleep from the spasms of an O. Yes, really. Apparently all this pelvic rest is causing my body to behave like an unsatisfied teenaged boy and I'm getting my orgasms wherever I can. . .even if it's only from dreams.
Other than a couple of tearful hormone-fueled meltdowns in front of my family (I'm oh-so-classy, eh?), I had a great trip and feel somewhat refreshed. I only feel somewhat refreshed because I'm actually more fatigued now than I was just a couple of short weeks ago. I can't figure out what the problem is other than I did follow my doctor's orders and discontinued taking the progesterone suppositories (I weaned off vs going cold turkey, for those who are interested) while I was on vacation. So the upside is that my vadge is no longer a constantly drippy suppository-filled mess, but the downside is that I want to sleep all the time.
I've spent months feeling constantly wet down below, courtesy of the progesterone suppositories, and I was looking forward to finally being able to wear panties without a pad to catch the, uh, drippings. It is nice to not wear a pad, but I've discovered that my ladyparts are still a bit on the moist side. I don't know if I'm constantly feeling this sensation because I'm chronically horny of if pregnancy-induced leukorrhea has finally made an appearance. Actually, it could have been there all along for all I know and the melting suppositories just masked what was naturally occurring. It is an uncomfortable feeling, particularly with my history of bleeding and spotting, and sometimes I'm not sure what I might find when I wipe. Honestly though, as long as it isn't pink or red, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I'm over 14-weeks now and, though I've gained less than five pounds, I am inexplicably showing. This makes absolutely zero sense to me and fills me with particular dread because ALL of my maternity clothes are packed and gone. The few clothes that I still have in the house will have to last for another couple of months or I'll have to drag my old bones out to the store and do a bit of shopping before too long - bleh!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
The Urge + The Surge = Aw, Yeah!
My son woke me twice in the early morning; once at 3:00 am and again at 4:00 am. I hardly woke up the first time he came to our room, but his whining and wailing jolted me awake an hour later. What was the problem? I have no idea and I was beyond irritated when he wouldn't go back to bed. Naturally, he went right to sleep when Daddy tucked him back in bed.
Unfortunately, I wasn't able to sleep again from that point on. There's not much to do at that time of day and I considered going to the gym. Seriously, I did consider it.
I quickly dismissed gym-bound ideas in favor of sexy thoughts. Sure, sex isn't all that good of a workout, but at least you get immediate results for your effort! However, I was distracted away from my mental porn by thinking about my cervix.
I blogged about my cervical adventure last night and I still find the thing pretty fascinating. I was curious if it felt differently this morning so I popped in to check it out. Whoa! I am so glad that I did!
Remember when I mentioned that the cervix changes around ovulation? I felt those changes this morning. Crazy, right? It was totally different less than twelve hours earlier!
This morning it was higher and softer. The dimple somehow felt deeper, but I couldn't really tell as the cervix itself was so much higher than it was just last night and it wasn't as easy to reach. I think it also felt wetter (for lack of better term), but wasn't sure if that could be traced to my earlier thoughts about sex. Yeah, I probably should have checked my cervix before letting my mind run wild.
After making this cervical discovery, I jumped up and ran to the bathroom to pee on an ovulation predictor stick. Sure enough, I was experiencing the LH surge that I've been waiting for the last several days. Yes!
So now I have a date that I can begin to take the progesterone and, if nothing else, hopefully that will help extend my luteal phase so I won't be back on my period in less than ten days. Ideally, of course, the progesterone will help support a pregnancy if I conceive. I'll be thankful for the former, but I'd prefer the latter!
Following that train of thought, I wondered if I should hit up hubs for a roll in ze hay (someone's been watching Young Frankenstein!) right then or if I should wait until this evening. I know that my "egg-whites" will be showing up shortly - probably within 12- to 24-hours. Feeling unsure if the timing was right, I inspected my cervical fluid at length and I'm still not positive that it was stretchy and slippery enough for my husband's swimmers to make it where they need to go. It stretched around 1.5" between my fingers. . .certainly stretchy, but nowhere near as stretchy as I've seen it before. I kept digging around, wondering if my fluid was good enough and finally decided to stop overthinking everything so I made up my mind.
I went for it.
Am I presenting fertile cervical fluid? Sort of. Would it have been better to wait until this evening? Probably. So why did I go for it anyway? Well, because sex can lead to children, but it's supposed to be enjoyable just for the sake of having it too. I was uncharacteristically horny at a very early hour (night owls paired with early birds quickly learn the joys of afternoon delight!) and wanted my husband. Put simply, I wasn't going to let the lowered chance of conception stop me from enjoying him.
I sure that anyone who has been trying to achieve pregnancy can agree that trying for a baby is fun and exciting for a limited amount of cycles. I found that it became disheartening after around a year of trying. That's not to say that sex is no longer fun or exciting after that point, it's just that you become very aware of when you should do it and it paints the act with a special sense of urgency and pressure. That urgency and pressure creates stress and stress can unfortunately kill your sexual desire.
Don't I want a baby? Well, yeah! But I wanted him more this morning and I thought that nurturing our relationship was far more important than worrying about expanding our family.
Unfortunately, I wasn't able to sleep again from that point on. There's not much to do at that time of day and I considered going to the gym. Seriously, I did consider it.
I quickly dismissed gym-bound ideas in favor of sexy thoughts. Sure, sex isn't all that good of a workout, but at least you get immediate results for your effort! However, I was distracted away from my mental porn by thinking about my cervix.
I blogged about my cervical adventure last night and I still find the thing pretty fascinating. I was curious if it felt differently this morning so I popped in to check it out. Whoa! I am so glad that I did!
Remember when I mentioned that the cervix changes around ovulation? I felt those changes this morning. Crazy, right? It was totally different less than twelve hours earlier!
This morning it was higher and softer. The dimple somehow felt deeper, but I couldn't really tell as the cervix itself was so much higher than it was just last night and it wasn't as easy to reach. I think it also felt wetter (for lack of better term), but wasn't sure if that could be traced to my earlier thoughts about sex. Yeah, I probably should have checked my cervix before letting my mind run wild.
After making this cervical discovery, I jumped up and ran to the bathroom to pee on an ovulation predictor stick. Sure enough, I was experiencing the LH surge that I've been waiting for the last several days. Yes!
So now I have a date that I can begin to take the progesterone and, if nothing else, hopefully that will help extend my luteal phase so I won't be back on my period in less than ten days. Ideally, of course, the progesterone will help support a pregnancy if I conceive. I'll be thankful for the former, but I'd prefer the latter!
Following that train of thought, I wondered if I should hit up hubs for a roll in ze hay (someone's been watching Young Frankenstein!) right then or if I should wait until this evening. I know that my "egg-whites" will be showing up shortly - probably within 12- to 24-hours. Feeling unsure if the timing was right, I inspected my cervical fluid at length and I'm still not positive that it was stretchy and slippery enough for my husband's swimmers to make it where they need to go. It stretched around 1.5" between my fingers. . .certainly stretchy, but nowhere near as stretchy as I've seen it before. I kept digging around, wondering if my fluid was good enough and finally decided to stop overthinking everything so I made up my mind.
I went for it.
Am I presenting fertile cervical fluid? Sort of. Would it have been better to wait until this evening? Probably. So why did I go for it anyway? Well, because sex can lead to children, but it's supposed to be enjoyable just for the sake of having it too. I was uncharacteristically horny at a very early hour (night owls paired with early birds quickly learn the joys of afternoon delight!) and wanted my husband. Put simply, I wasn't going to let the lowered chance of conception stop me from enjoying him.
I sure that anyone who has been trying to achieve pregnancy can agree that trying for a baby is fun and exciting for a limited amount of cycles. I found that it became disheartening after around a year of trying. That's not to say that sex is no longer fun or exciting after that point, it's just that you become very aware of when you should do it and it paints the act with a special sense of urgency and pressure. That urgency and pressure creates stress and stress can unfortunately kill your sexual desire.
Don't I want a baby? Well, yeah! But I wanted him more this morning and I thought that nurturing our relationship was far more important than worrying about expanding our family.
Monday, February 28, 2011
How is Your Sex-Esteem?
A million thanks goes to my very good friend, who shall remain nameless (unless she chooses to reveal her identity), for coining the term "sex-esteem."
We all have heard of self-esteem and we know how we value self, but how do we value sex and our relationship with the act? How do you truly feel about your sex life? Is it good, bad, or indifferent? Rockin' awesome or just adequate? Have you ever considered your sex-esteem?
I'm far from being a sexpert and I don't usually think sex is all that difficult, but it really is a complicated thing, isn't it? I mean, really, it is the most intimate expression possible between humans. The physical joining of separate people can be deeply moving, to the point that tears of joy are shed over the wondrous experience. Or it can be profoundly disappointing to the point that you don't even see the point. I can say that I've experienced both situations and, even though crying during or after sex is generally discouraged, the former is far preferred over the latter!
Sex is odd, right? It can be an expression of the highest and purest form of love, freely giving everything you can offer to someone else. . .so wonderful and so touching. Yet it can also be a base and animalistic response, completely detached from our higher thinking and any sense of reason. . .so wonderful and so hedonistic.
Sexual compatibility is important in a relationship. I think so anyway. That's not to say that I think simultaneous orgasms are necessary to have compatibility. It's very nice, of course, but certainly not necessary. I think it's more important to clearly communicate desires and reach an understanding of sexual expectations.
I'm sure this shocks no one reading this, but I like to do it a lot. And, if that's not happening, I have no problem taking matters into my own hands - if you catch my meaning. But I damn sure would have a problem if my husband wasn't willing to at least try to accommodate me or be respectful of my desires. It would hurt my sex-esteem!
I'd begin to feel unloved, unwanted, and undesirable if my partner's actions (or, more accurately, lack of action) were injuring my sex-esteem. Even more detrimental to the relationship, I'd begin to feel judged. Nothing kills the glorious blossom of true intimacy more completely than harshly judging your partner's desires. Nothing!
You know, I basically just described how I felt throughout my first marriage and that was a sad, sad chapter in my life. My self-esteem was wounded and, more painfully, my sex-esteem was battered. His rejection and ambivalence damn near did me in. Just when I was dejectedly sprawled out at the brink, the smoldering rebellion that never was fully snuffed out somehow reached full flame and I burned that marriage, that entire relationship, to the ground.
I walked away and never looked back. In doing so, I rediscovered who I am and I found that I really like myself. I am a bit of a horn-dog, but that's okay. I'd wager that my husband thinks that's more than just okay - ha! I learned a lot from that dark time, most notably that a person is a complex tapestry of feelings, moods, and emotions. And that self-esteem and sex-esteem are often fully intertwined.
As I relearned to value myself, I learned to value my pleasure. I realized that my sex drive is as much a part of me as my kindness, loyalty, or generosity. All of those things are good and so is knowing who I am from a sexual standpoint. My sex-esteem was built up and restored through my relationship with my husband and my self-esteem naturally rose with my joy and personal satisfaction.
Have you ever considered your sex-esteem? Is your partner respectful of your desires? Are you happy with your relationship from a sexual standpoint? If you've answered "no" to the immediately previous two questions, you really should have a heart to heart talk with your partner.
Are you shying away from having that potentially dangerous conversation? I can understand that it may be uncomfortable and possibly lead to an argument or even a dissolution of the relationship. But please realize that honesty is always the best foundation for any relationship. It's like faking orgasms - you should never do it because then you are always compelled to fake it. And, at some point, we always will tire of faking it and we'll want to feel something genuine.
We were all meant to live a real life and it's my hope that you're living yours to the fullest. Leave pretending to actors and be real in every aspect of your life!
We all have heard of self-esteem and we know how we value self, but how do we value sex and our relationship with the act? How do you truly feel about your sex life? Is it good, bad, or indifferent? Rockin' awesome or just adequate? Have you ever considered your sex-esteem?
I'm far from being a sexpert and I don't usually think sex is all that difficult, but it really is a complicated thing, isn't it? I mean, really, it is the most intimate expression possible between humans. The physical joining of separate people can be deeply moving, to the point that tears of joy are shed over the wondrous experience. Or it can be profoundly disappointing to the point that you don't even see the point. I can say that I've experienced both situations and, even though crying during or after sex is generally discouraged, the former is far preferred over the latter!
Sex is odd, right? It can be an expression of the highest and purest form of love, freely giving everything you can offer to someone else. . .so wonderful and so touching. Yet it can also be a base and animalistic response, completely detached from our higher thinking and any sense of reason. . .so wonderful and so hedonistic.
Sexual compatibility is important in a relationship. I think so anyway. That's not to say that I think simultaneous orgasms are necessary to have compatibility. It's very nice, of course, but certainly not necessary. I think it's more important to clearly communicate desires and reach an understanding of sexual expectations.
I'm sure this shocks no one reading this, but I like to do it a lot. And, if that's not happening, I have no problem taking matters into my own hands - if you catch my meaning. But I damn sure would have a problem if my husband wasn't willing to at least try to accommodate me or be respectful of my desires. It would hurt my sex-esteem!
I'd begin to feel unloved, unwanted, and undesirable if my partner's actions (or, more accurately, lack of action) were injuring my sex-esteem. Even more detrimental to the relationship, I'd begin to feel judged. Nothing kills the glorious blossom of true intimacy more completely than harshly judging your partner's desires. Nothing!
You know, I basically just described how I felt throughout my first marriage and that was a sad, sad chapter in my life. My self-esteem was wounded and, more painfully, my sex-esteem was battered. His rejection and ambivalence damn near did me in. Just when I was dejectedly sprawled out at the brink, the smoldering rebellion that never was fully snuffed out somehow reached full flame and I burned that marriage, that entire relationship, to the ground.
I walked away and never looked back. In doing so, I rediscovered who I am and I found that I really like myself. I am a bit of a horn-dog, but that's okay. I'd wager that my husband thinks that's more than just okay - ha! I learned a lot from that dark time, most notably that a person is a complex tapestry of feelings, moods, and emotions. And that self-esteem and sex-esteem are often fully intertwined.
As I relearned to value myself, I learned to value my pleasure. I realized that my sex drive is as much a part of me as my kindness, loyalty, or generosity. All of those things are good and so is knowing who I am from a sexual standpoint. My sex-esteem was built up and restored through my relationship with my husband and my self-esteem naturally rose with my joy and personal satisfaction.
Have you ever considered your sex-esteem? Is your partner respectful of your desires? Are you happy with your relationship from a sexual standpoint? If you've answered "no" to the immediately previous two questions, you really should have a heart to heart talk with your partner.
Are you shying away from having that potentially dangerous conversation? I can understand that it may be uncomfortable and possibly lead to an argument or even a dissolution of the relationship. But please realize that honesty is always the best foundation for any relationship. It's like faking orgasms - you should never do it because then you are always compelled to fake it. And, at some point, we always will tire of faking it and we'll want to feel something genuine.
We were all meant to live a real life and it's my hope that you're living yours to the fullest. Leave pretending to actors and be real in every aspect of your life!
Sunday, February 27, 2011
My Epiphany - Part II
I've discovered that the subject of my epiphany post is still working at the same place I met him and that has caused me a lot of distress over the last few weeks. I have frequently attended his workplace with my young son for well over a year. The kiddo loves it there and I always have too. However, I'm concerned that I should avoid this place at all cost because I'm not so sure that it would be emotionally safe for me to visit if it means that I might see him.
I mentioned all this to a very dear friend. She knew me back then and she knew him too. I indicated that my concern is that I'd see him and that I'd see that the spell between us was broken between us. That I'd just be some frumpy middle-aged housewife in his eyes. That's true, as I'd sure hate the blow to my ego, but it's more than that though. . .it's that I fear that I would be putting myself directly in temptation's path.
I detest liars, thieves, and cheaters. And believe me when I say that someone who cheats on their spouse is all three in one. We so easily begin to resemble that which we hate. . .could I ever be an adulteress? Could I ever be so easily tempted? I don't think so, but I am very aware that my pride in my faithfulness could very well lead to faithlessness.
My friend smartly pointed out that I'm too much in love with my husband and our son to do anything to jeopardize this family. She's right about that because my family is my everything. I'm sure readers of this blog know how much my husband & son mean to me; they truly are as vital as the air that I breathe.
She also pointed out that my epiphany subject was old back then and that means that he's ancient now. She's not so right about that. He's only a few years older than my husband and I certainly don't think my hubs is "old" - let alone "ancient!"
She added that we probably wouldn't even recognize each other anyway since so much time has gone by and we surely have aged in the last twenty-years. Oh my, she is right about that! I was looking over some old photos of myself and, well, I look nothing like I did back then. I think I peaked (from a physically attractive standpoint) at around 19- or 20-years old. And it totally pains me to admit that was a long time ago. It sucks, but there you go.
I am an honest woman and I have discussed this potential problem at length with my husband. He knows about the entire relationship and he knows every intimate detail. Yeah, yeah, so I kiss & tell - to my spouse!
Yet he laughed at my concerns and basically advised me to stop worrying about silly situations that weren't likely to ever happen. After all, I go to this place with our son - that alone stops any sexy situations dead. I guess no one really wants to make time with a Mom. Additionally, we frequently are in the company of other mamas & toddlers - another sexual killer.
And that's even allowing for the thought that this man and I would still have this fiery hot connection burning between us. . .and, let's face it, we do not and we will not because the years would have eroded whatever it was that brought the two of us together. So, really, the chances to destroy my marriage are virtually nil.
My little boy and I went to this particular place the other day. We had a wonderful time with two other mamas and their children. I did not run into an old love and I didn't particularly worry about it either. My son gets so excited when he sees where we are going and I can't possibly trip down my own memory lane when my little boy is busily building his own memories.
The past is gone and I've never made a habit of going backward. So it is entirely possible (remotely possible, really) that I may see this man at some point. . .but I wasn't brought to him to have for life. However, I did voluntarily give myself to my husband in a ceremony that was witnessed by well over 100 of our friends and family. And that union brought forth our son. . .our wonderful son!
I am my beloved's and he is mine. No man will tear us apart; even a man who has known me in the distant past. I can confidently enjoy this venue because I do know that the love I have for my husband overrides any lust or nostalgia that I can possibly feel. Feelings, after all, are fleeting. But the love and admiration that I have for my husband is deeper than the oceans, higher than the sky, and sweeter than the most tender nectar. He is the harbor in which I seek refuge and life's storms will never tear me from his safe bay. To put it quite simply, I adore my husband and nothing that is of this world could pull me away from him.
So I will confidently enter this park and appreciate seeing the joy in my son's face. And I will leave the past where it belongs. . .solidly in the past.
I mentioned all this to a very dear friend. She knew me back then and she knew him too. I indicated that my concern is that I'd see him and that I'd see that the spell between us was broken between us. That I'd just be some frumpy middle-aged housewife in his eyes. That's true, as I'd sure hate the blow to my ego, but it's more than that though. . .it's that I fear that I would be putting myself directly in temptation's path.
I detest liars, thieves, and cheaters. And believe me when I say that someone who cheats on their spouse is all three in one. We so easily begin to resemble that which we hate. . .could I ever be an adulteress? Could I ever be so easily tempted? I don't think so, but I am very aware that my pride in my faithfulness could very well lead to faithlessness.
My friend smartly pointed out that I'm too much in love with my husband and our son to do anything to jeopardize this family. She's right about that because my family is my everything. I'm sure readers of this blog know how much my husband & son mean to me; they truly are as vital as the air that I breathe.
She also pointed out that my epiphany subject was old back then and that means that he's ancient now. She's not so right about that. He's only a few years older than my husband and I certainly don't think my hubs is "old" - let alone "ancient!"
She added that we probably wouldn't even recognize each other anyway since so much time has gone by and we surely have aged in the last twenty-years. Oh my, she is right about that! I was looking over some old photos of myself and, well, I look nothing like I did back then. I think I peaked (from a physically attractive standpoint) at around 19- or 20-years old. And it totally pains me to admit that was a long time ago. It sucks, but there you go.
I am an honest woman and I have discussed this potential problem at length with my husband. He knows about the entire relationship and he knows every intimate detail. Yeah, yeah, so I kiss & tell - to my spouse!
Yet he laughed at my concerns and basically advised me to stop worrying about silly situations that weren't likely to ever happen. After all, I go to this place with our son - that alone stops any sexy situations dead. I guess no one really wants to make time with a Mom. Additionally, we frequently are in the company of other mamas & toddlers - another sexual killer.
And that's even allowing for the thought that this man and I would still have this fiery hot connection burning between us. . .and, let's face it, we do not and we will not because the years would have eroded whatever it was that brought the two of us together. So, really, the chances to destroy my marriage are virtually nil.
My little boy and I went to this particular place the other day. We had a wonderful time with two other mamas and their children. I did not run into an old love and I didn't particularly worry about it either. My son gets so excited when he sees where we are going and I can't possibly trip down my own memory lane when my little boy is busily building his own memories.
The past is gone and I've never made a habit of going backward. So it is entirely possible (remotely possible, really) that I may see this man at some point. . .but I wasn't brought to him to have for life. However, I did voluntarily give myself to my husband in a ceremony that was witnessed by well over 100 of our friends and family. And that union brought forth our son. . .our wonderful son!
I am my beloved's and he is mine. No man will tear us apart; even a man who has known me in the distant past. I can confidently enjoy this venue because I do know that the love I have for my husband overrides any lust or nostalgia that I can possibly feel. Feelings, after all, are fleeting. But the love and admiration that I have for my husband is deeper than the oceans, higher than the sky, and sweeter than the most tender nectar. He is the harbor in which I seek refuge and life's storms will never tear me from his safe bay. To put it quite simply, I adore my husband and nothing that is of this world could pull me away from him.
So I will confidently enter this park and appreciate seeing the joy in my son's face. And I will leave the past where it belongs. . .solidly in the past.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Are Tan Lines Sexy?
My husband and I were discussing sunbathing the other day. If you know how pale the two of us are, you'd quickly realize just how lame this convo must have been, but we had it nonetheless. It's official, we must have run out of things to talk about since we're kvetching about the dumbest topics!
Anyway, I scoffed at these horrible tan lines and my hubs was waaay the heck into them. Like really diggin' tan lines. He even reminisced about the tan lines his ex-wife sported. I was surprised almost to the point that my mouth was going to hang agape. After all, I'm a white chick who is a nude sunbather and I assumed everyone liked sun-kissed skin. Turns out I was wrong!
He said tan lines are sexy because they highlight the very best parts of a woman's body. I don't disagree that they call attention to boobs, butts, and the rest, but I also don't think they're sexy. I mean, you'd know a snatch were there whether or not there was a tan line, right?! So why is a tan line necessary to call attention to it???
I realize that I'm pretty damn free & loose about such things, but I see a tan line and think it's sad that the wearer didn't have the opportunity to sunbathe nude. Honestly, there is little else in this life that is as appealing to me than the feeling of the sun kissing my entire body. Completely and totally reaching every single part of me. The feeling of being at one with all of nature is simply unbelievable unless you've also experienced such unfettered joy.
I sunbathed nude for many years and never gave much thought about my sun exposure. Well, I gave plenty of thought about it the time I sunburned my nipples and my labia. . .other than that though, I never really cared. I just feel like the sun lights me up and I love how it feels when the tingling of the sun's rays go running throughout my body whenever I'm lazing about in the sun. It's my Summer poison and I love it!
Having neighbors (dangit!) and a kid (aww!) make it darn near impossible to chillax in the buff on my hammock in the backyard. And hitting Trail 6 at San Onofre is even more out of reach, not to mention more illegal these days. What's a semi-nudist to do? Wear the smallest bikini she can squeeze her fat ass into I suppose. I hate wearing a bathing suit, but you gotta do what you gotta do to not completely scandalize the neighborhood.
It's just as well, I guess, since my son seems entranced by my pubic hair these days. Should I take that as my cue to stop being seen naked in front of him? I don't want him to be all weirded out by nudity, but I also don't want to raise Oedipus. I'm sure I'll end up writing a post about it, but does anyone have any thoughts on this?
What are your thoughts? Are tan lines hot? Or is an all-over tan sexier? Weigh in below and I'll see you in the Summer. . .with or without a suit! ;-)
Anyway, I scoffed at these horrible tan lines and my hubs was waaay the heck into them. Like really diggin' tan lines. He even reminisced about the tan lines his ex-wife sported. I was surprised almost to the point that my mouth was going to hang agape. After all, I'm a white chick who is a nude sunbather and I assumed everyone liked sun-kissed skin. Turns out I was wrong!
He said tan lines are sexy because they highlight the very best parts of a woman's body. I don't disagree that they call attention to boobs, butts, and the rest, but I also don't think they're sexy. I mean, you'd know a snatch were there whether or not there was a tan line, right?! So why is a tan line necessary to call attention to it???
I realize that I'm pretty damn free & loose about such things, but I see a tan line and think it's sad that the wearer didn't have the opportunity to sunbathe nude. Honestly, there is little else in this life that is as appealing to me than the feeling of the sun kissing my entire body. Completely and totally reaching every single part of me. The feeling of being at one with all of nature is simply unbelievable unless you've also experienced such unfettered joy.
I sunbathed nude for many years and never gave much thought about my sun exposure. Well, I gave plenty of thought about it the time I sunburned my nipples and my labia. . .other than that though, I never really cared. I just feel like the sun lights me up and I love how it feels when the tingling of the sun's rays go running throughout my body whenever I'm lazing about in the sun. It's my Summer poison and I love it!
Having neighbors (dangit!) and a kid (aww!) make it darn near impossible to chillax in the buff on my hammock in the backyard. And hitting Trail 6 at San Onofre is even more out of reach, not to mention more illegal these days. What's a semi-nudist to do? Wear the smallest bikini she can squeeze her fat ass into I suppose. I hate wearing a bathing suit, but you gotta do what you gotta do to not completely scandalize the neighborhood.
It's just as well, I guess, since my son seems entranced by my pubic hair these days. Should I take that as my cue to stop being seen naked in front of him? I don't want him to be all weirded out by nudity, but I also don't want to raise Oedipus. I'm sure I'll end up writing a post about it, but does anyone have any thoughts on this?
What are your thoughts? Are tan lines hot? Or is an all-over tan sexier? Weigh in below and I'll see you in the Summer. . .with or without a suit! ;-)
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The Hottest Song in History
I know it's Wednesday and I've slacked off on posting a pic once a week, but I can't access my other computer so I won't be doing a picture post today. I've been cruising youtube for my musical entertainment and I kept hitting up songs that I remember well from my late-teens to early-20s. I have a wide range of musical likes and today it was all about Tupac and LL Cool J.
I've probably mentioned before that I dig LL Cool J and his songs are always fun. I know that I probably don't seem like someone who'd like his music since I'm something of a folk-rocking hippie, but I totally love him. I guess his name is accurate, eh? And, oh my, that man has the sexiest lips on the planet. I'm not a big fan of kissing on the mouth, but I'd make an exception for him.
This song is typically censored to bits on the radio, but here's the uncensored version of Doin It. It is probably the sexiest song ever written and, if it were possible to make me blush, I'd be beet red at certain parts. I submit the following line as an example: "I need a rough neck nigga Mandingo in the sac who ain't afraid to pull my hair and spank me from the back." Well, that young lady certainly knows what she needs!
I didn't make a Wordless Wednesday post, but I suppose I made a Wanton Wednesday one instead. They don't call it "hump day" for nothing!
I've probably mentioned before that I dig LL Cool J and his songs are always fun. I know that I probably don't seem like someone who'd like his music since I'm something of a folk-rocking hippie, but I totally love him. I guess his name is accurate, eh? And, oh my, that man has the sexiest lips on the planet. I'm not a big fan of kissing on the mouth, but I'd make an exception for him.
This song is typically censored to bits on the radio, but here's the uncensored version of Doin It. It is probably the sexiest song ever written and, if it were possible to make me blush, I'd be beet red at certain parts. I submit the following line as an example: "I need a rough neck nigga Mandingo in the sac who ain't afraid to pull my hair and spank me from the back." Well, that young lady certainly knows what she needs!
I didn't make a Wordless Wednesday post, but I suppose I made a Wanton Wednesday one instead. They don't call it "hump day" for nothing!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Forgiveness, Fidelity, and Love
I almost posted this yesterday, but thought it was not a good post for Valentine's day. I suppose it's cool for the day after though.
I was talking with a friend a few days ago and the subject of infidelity came up. I have very definite opinions on infidelity; after all, that was what finally forced me to pull the plug on my first marriage. I find it interesting that of all things that I found so intolerable about that entire marriage, and there were many, infidelity was apparently where I drew the line and it was the only thing that I would not tolerate.
It would be understandable if I said that I find infidelity unacceptable because most people aren't exactly for cheating. . .but that's not exactly what I said to my friend. I told her that I thought one indiscretion or even a brief fling wasn't enough of a reason to scrap an otherwise good marriage. A boyfriend/girlfriend relationship, sure, but not a marriage.
I could hardly believe the hypocrisy of what I had said, considering infidelity is what ultimately made me sink the doomed ship that was my first marriage. I've been mulling over what I said and wondering why I said it, but I do believe it to be true. We are all human and there are times that we totally and completely screw up. Yes, sometimes we can even screw up so badly that we screw people other than our own spouse.
Would I be happy with the knowledge that my husband gave all of his love to another? Of course not! I divorced one husband over it (among other things) and I would not be pleased if this husband did the same, but this is a completely different marriage and I'm in a different place in my life. That's not to say that hubs is getting a free pass to knock one out with some chippy, I'm just saying that a good marriage shouldn't be destroyed by one colossal mistake. . .understand that I'm not saying that I find repeated indiscretions to be acceptable.
The problem (just one problem, mind you) with infidelity is that, once it has been discovered, it is nearly impossible for the betrayed spouse to remove it from their mind. You may forgive your spouse and want to move forward, but you will never completely forget what they have done. The pain and doubt will linger, causing you to do and think things that you hate; I've been there and done that.
Even innocent things seem suspicious at that point; arriving home a little late from work, getting a phone call at an odd hour, any changes from the normal routine. You ultimately find yourself pawing through their things for further evidence because trust has been violated. Indeed, my rifling through my ex-husband's stuff yielded far more dirt than I ever could have imagined. . .and I have a pretty wild imagination!
What's the most important quality in a relationship? I think it's love and forgiveness naturally flows from love. After all, forgiveness is one of the greatest expressions of love. None of us has the right to get on our high horse and lord anything over our spouse and, if you truly love, you can truly forgive.
What are your thoughts? Am I growing altogether too libertine in my age or does this actually make sense to anyone else?
I was talking with a friend a few days ago and the subject of infidelity came up. I have very definite opinions on infidelity; after all, that was what finally forced me to pull the plug on my first marriage. I find it interesting that of all things that I found so intolerable about that entire marriage, and there were many, infidelity was apparently where I drew the line and it was the only thing that I would not tolerate.
It would be understandable if I said that I find infidelity unacceptable because most people aren't exactly for cheating. . .but that's not exactly what I said to my friend. I told her that I thought one indiscretion or even a brief fling wasn't enough of a reason to scrap an otherwise good marriage. A boyfriend/girlfriend relationship, sure, but not a marriage.
I could hardly believe the hypocrisy of what I had said, considering infidelity is what ultimately made me sink the doomed ship that was my first marriage. I've been mulling over what I said and wondering why I said it, but I do believe it to be true. We are all human and there are times that we totally and completely screw up. Yes, sometimes we can even screw up so badly that we screw people other than our own spouse.
Would I be happy with the knowledge that my husband gave all of his love to another? Of course not! I divorced one husband over it (among other things) and I would not be pleased if this husband did the same, but this is a completely different marriage and I'm in a different place in my life. That's not to say that hubs is getting a free pass to knock one out with some chippy, I'm just saying that a good marriage shouldn't be destroyed by one colossal mistake. . .understand that I'm not saying that I find repeated indiscretions to be acceptable.
The problem (just one problem, mind you) with infidelity is that, once it has been discovered, it is nearly impossible for the betrayed spouse to remove it from their mind. You may forgive your spouse and want to move forward, but you will never completely forget what they have done. The pain and doubt will linger, causing you to do and think things that you hate; I've been there and done that.
Even innocent things seem suspicious at that point; arriving home a little late from work, getting a phone call at an odd hour, any changes from the normal routine. You ultimately find yourself pawing through their things for further evidence because trust has been violated. Indeed, my rifling through my ex-husband's stuff yielded far more dirt than I ever could have imagined. . .and I have a pretty wild imagination!
What's the most important quality in a relationship? I think it's love and forgiveness naturally flows from love. After all, forgiveness is one of the greatest expressions of love. None of us has the right to get on our high horse and lord anything over our spouse and, if you truly love, you can truly forgive.
What are your thoughts? Am I growing altogether too libertine in my age or does this actually make sense to anyone else?
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
A Sexy Questionnaire
A friend requested some more sexy stuff in my blog and I'm happy to oblige, but I want to get a little info about the readership so I came up with this questionnaire. It looks long, but should only take 5-10 minutes to complete. I think I covered everything, but feel free to elaborate if I missed anything that you'd like to share.
Please copy and paste this questionnaire into the comment box below and input your own information. Do make the comment anonymously because I want truthful answers. You can always send your answer to bloggymcbloggerstein@gmail.com but be aware that I'll probably know who sent the questionnaire in if you go that route.
What is your gender?
What is your age?
What is your sexual orientation?
At what age did you lose your virginity?
How many sexual partners have you had?
Are you in a relationship?
If so, how long have you been with your significant other?
How often do you engage in vaginal sex in a given week?
How often do you engage in anal sex in a given week?
How often to you give or receive oral sex in a given week?
Have any of these numbers measurably changed since the early days of your relationship?
Do you use any sex toys in the bedroom? If so, which ones?
Do you role play? If so, what do you like? Example: teacher/student, employer/employee, etc.
Do you try any BDSM? If so, what?
Do you swing or have an open relationship?
What is your opinion on porn?
What kind of porn do you like?
What kind of porn do you not like?
Do you look at/watch porn with your significant other?
Do you look at/watch porn by yourself? If so, does your significant other know?
Do you think or know that your significant other looks at/watches porn without you?
Have you ever found bedroom inspiration in porn?
How is your pubic region groomed: hardwood, Berber, or shag?
How is your significant other's pubic region groomed?
How do you prefer genitals to be groomed?
Has porn influenced your pubic grooming habits and preferences?
Have you ever cheated on your significant other?
Have you ever cheated on anyone?
If you have, was it with a stranger or someone you know?
Was your primary relationship destroyed from the indiscretion?
Have you ever been cheated on? If so, did it destroy your relationship?
Is there anything that you prefer not to do in the bedroom? If so, what?
Is there anything that you absolutely will not do in the bedroom? If so, what?
If you have anything that's off the table, can you elaborate on why?
Is sex an important part of your relationship (or relationships)?
How often do you orgasm with your significant other in a given week?
How often do you orgasm by yourself in a given week?
To the best of your knowledge, how often does your partner orgasm in a given week?
Anything else? Please share.
Please copy and paste this questionnaire into the comment box below and input your own information. Do make the comment anonymously because I want truthful answers. You can always send your answer to bloggymcbloggerstein@gmail.com but be aware that I'll probably know who sent the questionnaire in if you go that route.
* * *
What is your gender?
What is your age?
What is your sexual orientation?
At what age did you lose your virginity?
How many sexual partners have you had?
Are you in a relationship?
If so, how long have you been with your significant other?
How often do you engage in vaginal sex in a given week?
How often do you engage in anal sex in a given week?
How often to you give or receive oral sex in a given week?
Have any of these numbers measurably changed since the early days of your relationship?
Do you use any sex toys in the bedroom? If so, which ones?
Do you role play? If so, what do you like? Example: teacher/student, employer/employee, etc.
Do you try any BDSM? If so, what?
Do you swing or have an open relationship?
What is your opinion on porn?
What kind of porn do you like?
What kind of porn do you not like?
Do you look at/watch porn with your significant other?
Do you look at/watch porn by yourself? If so, does your significant other know?
Do you think or know that your significant other looks at/watches porn without you?
Have you ever found bedroom inspiration in porn?
How is your pubic region groomed: hardwood, Berber, or shag?
How is your significant other's pubic region groomed?
How do you prefer genitals to be groomed?
Has porn influenced your pubic grooming habits and preferences?
Have you ever cheated on your significant other?
Have you ever cheated on anyone?
If you have, was it with a stranger or someone you know?
Was your primary relationship destroyed from the indiscretion?
Have you ever been cheated on? If so, did it destroy your relationship?
Is there anything that you prefer not to do in the bedroom? If so, what?
Is there anything that you absolutely will not do in the bedroom? If so, what?
If you have anything that's off the table, can you elaborate on why?
Is sex an important part of your relationship (or relationships)?
How often do you orgasm with your significant other in a given week?
How often do you orgasm by yourself in a given week?
To the best of your knowledge, how often does your partner orgasm in a given week?
Anything else? Please share.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Possible Blog Name Change and Rock Concerts
I began writing yet another sexy-ish post today and stopped myself because readers might begin to suspect my integrity, but I'm beginning to think that the name of this blog should be changed to The Insatiable Mrs. Brown!
I knew that hubs and I were chafing at the time wasted on pelvic rest, but geez we're acting like a couple of lustful teenagers. Looks like we'll have to start stocking up on the Vitamin E. (wink!)
So enough of my sexy shenanigans because I'm guessing that there are only two people on this planet who give a rip about our sex life. Instead, I want to bitch about music - concerts, to be specific.
Ages ago it was discovered that both my husband and I like Eric Clapton, but it's interesting that neither of us have ever attended one of his concerts. We decided that we'd totally go the next time he plays in our area. All my recent musical exploration revealed that he's playing in our area in a month from now. I nearly peed myself at the awesome timing of finding out before the concert!
I checked out the ticket prices and, uh, I can swallow some pretty high prices, but don't think I can take $123 for a nosebleed seat. You read that right. It would cost $246 just for two seats! Perhaps I'm old-fashioned or just cheap, but $246 seems like a lot of money for the privilege of listening to a musician for around ninety-minutes. I hope a kiss is included in the price of admission because I already feel f*cked.
I shook my tiny fist of impotent rage at the computer and kvetched about it on Facebook. My brother-in-law had a very interesting comment that I agree with wholeheartedly. His feelings are that these exorbitant ticket prices serve to keep kids out of shows and only allows your more well-heeled or mature audience to attend. He's right.
Then he added that wasn't what rock & roll is about. And it really isn't. Rock is for the youth, but even at $8+ minimum wage, the young kids today would likely find it tough to pony up $123 per ticket. Want to help expose some young people to this fantastic music? Try lowering the ticket prices! I understand that they'll only charge what audiences are willing to pay, but DAMN!
What music would be played at a Clapton concert? A lot of hits that were recorded well over 20-years ago. Songs that were written for the enjoyment of young people. . .young people who grew up to be the only people who would probably be willing to spend $123 for a Clapton concert ticket. I don't want to spend that kind of money and I don't want to miss the show either. Crap!
Anyway, I came across this fun clip today. . .how many of you remember listening to vinyl??? I still have a fairly respectable record collection. All of the albums from The Eagles (still have an ancient The Long Run T-shirt somewhere), Zeppelin IV, and many others that I can't think of off the top of my head. Those were just my favorites. Yeah, I told you all that I was born twenty-years too late.
In closing, rock out with your cock out. Oh, sh*t! I had to go back to sex, huh?
I knew that hubs and I were chafing at the time wasted on pelvic rest, but geez we're acting like a couple of lustful teenagers. Looks like we'll have to start stocking up on the Vitamin E. (wink!)
So enough of my sexy shenanigans because I'm guessing that there are only two people on this planet who give a rip about our sex life. Instead, I want to bitch about music - concerts, to be specific.
Ages ago it was discovered that both my husband and I like Eric Clapton, but it's interesting that neither of us have ever attended one of his concerts. We decided that we'd totally go the next time he plays in our area. All my recent musical exploration revealed that he's playing in our area in a month from now. I nearly peed myself at the awesome timing of finding out before the concert!
I checked out the ticket prices and, uh, I can swallow some pretty high prices, but don't think I can take $123 for a nosebleed seat. You read that right. It would cost $246 just for two seats! Perhaps I'm old-fashioned or just cheap, but $246 seems like a lot of money for the privilege of listening to a musician for around ninety-minutes. I hope a kiss is included in the price of admission because I already feel f*cked.
I shook my tiny fist of impotent rage at the computer and kvetched about it on Facebook. My brother-in-law had a very interesting comment that I agree with wholeheartedly. His feelings are that these exorbitant ticket prices serve to keep kids out of shows and only allows your more well-heeled or mature audience to attend. He's right.
Then he added that wasn't what rock & roll is about. And it really isn't. Rock is for the youth, but even at $8+ minimum wage, the young kids today would likely find it tough to pony up $123 per ticket. Want to help expose some young people to this fantastic music? Try lowering the ticket prices! I understand that they'll only charge what audiences are willing to pay, but DAMN!
What music would be played at a Clapton concert? A lot of hits that were recorded well over 20-years ago. Songs that were written for the enjoyment of young people. . .young people who grew up to be the only people who would probably be willing to spend $123 for a Clapton concert ticket. I don't want to spend that kind of money and I don't want to miss the show either. Crap!
Anyway, I came across this fun clip today. . .how many of you remember listening to vinyl??? I still have a fairly respectable record collection. All of the albums from The Eagles (still have an ancient The Long Run T-shirt somewhere), Zeppelin IV, and many others that I can't think of off the top of my head. Those were just my favorites. Yeah, I told you all that I was born twenty-years too late.
In closing, rock out with your cock out. Oh, sh*t! I had to go back to sex, huh?
Monday, February 7, 2011
Sex Isn't Very Important. . .
if you don't have a good sex life.
Come on, you didn't really think I'd say sex wasn't important without tacking on that last part, did you?!
I've been told that sex isn't very important by several people over the years. I initially bought the line because I'm a romantic at heart, but I've come to form the opposite opinion. I think it is very important because, well, I like sex and I don't care if that makes me sound whorish or not.
I mean, I like sex so much that I can't understand why someone just doesn't care about it. I can not wrap my head around such a thought. It feels great and it makes you feel connected (literally and figuratively) to another person! Why wouldn't you like it?
I've only heard the "sex isn't all that important" line from women and I wonder why. Is it that sex is such a charged issue to women that they can't just go for it even if that means denying an immense amount of pleasure? Is it that so many women were sexually abused or mistreated in some fashion so they have a hard time accepting sexual desire because it caused such hurt? Is it that somewhere inside we think that fish really don't need bicycles? Or is it an entirely different reason?
I'm not exactly a shrinking virgin and I lost my cherry at a shockingly young age, though it wasn't so shocking to me at the time. I have sometimes wondered why I let someone pluck my sweet peach when it was barely ripening. I don't really have an answer other than it seemed to be the thing to do back in those days. I guess I didn't buy the "nice girls don't put out" line, eh? And I've always thought that a fish would really appreciate a good bicycle!
So I have a rather lengthy sexual history, relative to my age, and I know myself pretty well in the bedroom. If I'm in a relationship and we go any length of time without sex, I start to pick apart and question the entire relationship. It doesn't take long before I'm wondering if there's an unspoken reason for the lack of lovemaking; some resentment, infidelity, or just plain ol' boredom. If I go any long length of time without an orgasm (whether anyone else is involved or not), I start feeling dissatisfied with my entire life and I become somewhat confrontational without that release. Orgasms are a joyous thing and I miss them terribly when they are gone. I'm aware that I probably sound like a guy right about now, but I can assure you that I'm all-woman.
Perhaps you're thinking that I must have been sexualized at a young age or that I suffer some deep-seated psychological damage. Perhaps you'd be right or perhaps not. I have noted that women who were sexually abused tend to go only one of two ways: they either need sex to feel any value & self-worth or they detest sex & hate penis.
I need sex to feel connected with my husband, not to feel my own value. There's no way I can describe how it feels to have all of your love inside. . .and I mean that in the most literal way possible. It's a thing of beauty and a gift.
Look, I'm not saying sex is the most important thing in a relationship because it's not - not by a long shot. Fidelity, forgiveness, honesty, friendship, kindness, respect and stuff like that are more important than sex, but sex is still pretty damn important in my book. Speak anonymously if you'd like, but what do you say on the matter?
Hm, looks like I've uncovered yet another reason why my husband nabbed me and took me for his own as soon as I was back on the market.
Come on, you didn't really think I'd say sex wasn't important without tacking on that last part, did you?!
I've been told that sex isn't very important by several people over the years. I initially bought the line because I'm a romantic at heart, but I've come to form the opposite opinion. I think it is very important because, well, I like sex and I don't care if that makes me sound whorish or not.
I mean, I like sex so much that I can't understand why someone just doesn't care about it. I can not wrap my head around such a thought. It feels great and it makes you feel connected (literally and figuratively) to another person! Why wouldn't you like it?
I've only heard the "sex isn't all that important" line from women and I wonder why. Is it that sex is such a charged issue to women that they can't just go for it even if that means denying an immense amount of pleasure? Is it that so many women were sexually abused or mistreated in some fashion so they have a hard time accepting sexual desire because it caused such hurt? Is it that somewhere inside we think that fish really don't need bicycles? Or is it an entirely different reason?
I'm not exactly a shrinking virgin and I lost my cherry at a shockingly young age, though it wasn't so shocking to me at the time. I have sometimes wondered why I let someone pluck my sweet peach when it was barely ripening. I don't really have an answer other than it seemed to be the thing to do back in those days. I guess I didn't buy the "nice girls don't put out" line, eh? And I've always thought that a fish would really appreciate a good bicycle!
So I have a rather lengthy sexual history, relative to my age, and I know myself pretty well in the bedroom. If I'm in a relationship and we go any length of time without sex, I start to pick apart and question the entire relationship. It doesn't take long before I'm wondering if there's an unspoken reason for the lack of lovemaking; some resentment, infidelity, or just plain ol' boredom. If I go any long length of time without an orgasm (whether anyone else is involved or not), I start feeling dissatisfied with my entire life and I become somewhat confrontational without that release. Orgasms are a joyous thing and I miss them terribly when they are gone. I'm aware that I probably sound like a guy right about now, but I can assure you that I'm all-woman.
Perhaps you're thinking that I must have been sexualized at a young age or that I suffer some deep-seated psychological damage. Perhaps you'd be right or perhaps not. I have noted that women who were sexually abused tend to go only one of two ways: they either need sex to feel any value & self-worth or they detest sex & hate penis.
I need sex to feel connected with my husband, not to feel my own value. There's no way I can describe how it feels to have all of your love inside. . .and I mean that in the most literal way possible. It's a thing of beauty and a gift.
Look, I'm not saying sex is the most important thing in a relationship because it's not - not by a long shot. Fidelity, forgiveness, honesty, friendship, kindness, respect and stuff like that are more important than sex, but sex is still pretty damn important in my book. Speak anonymously if you'd like, but what do you say on the matter?
Hm, looks like I've uncovered yet another reason why my husband nabbed me and took me for his own as soon as I was back on the market.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
I've Had an Epiphany. . .that is Probably Obvious to Everyone!
I'm so excited to report that I've had an epiphany!
I've always thought it was weird when someone has a very definite "type" that they're interested in, but have noticed that I'm extremely predictable when it comes to the men I pick for dating, mating, and marriage. I know that I've mentioned my proclivities in this blog, but I only realized today that I've had a "type" since I was a teenager. We're always the last to know what's patently obvious to the rest of the world, right?
Desires change over time and, when I was a young teen, I had preferences that differ somewhat from my current choices. In a nutshell, I wouldn't look twice if they didn't have dark skin, hair, and eyes. No blond-haired or blue-eyed albinos were gonna get a piece of my action! I used to joke with my BFF that I was like the UN of dating because every ethnicity and nationality was equally represented. Of course, that's a little bit of an exaggeration!
I was busily watching mid-70s era Eric Clapton videos on youtube while my son napped this afternoon. Shocking, huh? Anyway, I was admiring his full head of hair, his face full of fuzz, and his skinny hips when it hit me - I've been attracted to this look since I was around 17-years old. I'm not saying that I felt all tingly in my girlie parts when looking at 65-year old men, but I'm also not saying that I didn't. In case you're interested, I did today!
But I realized why I like that "type" and it was a revelation to me. I was with a man who sported that exact look back in 1992 or so. We weren't exactly boyfriend-girlfriend in that it wasn't a societally appropriate relationship and I never considered bringing him to meet my parents, but he was absolutely taken with me and I thought he was just wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.
Over the years, I've often thought with disdain about the men who were with my under-aged self. As an adult, I find it repugnant that grown men would take advantage of such a young girl. Sure, I was hot to trot, but I was still a friggin' kid and they should have practiced a little self-control.
Interestingly, I've never lumped this particular man in with that group for some damn reason - and he was far & away the oldest to have me! Why do I give him a pass? I don't know. I guess because he loved me. And, oh, how he loved me. Even as a young girl, I could see that I was a feminized ideal to him. I was the Yoko to his John and he was so smitten. Just over the moon. He made me feel perfect and lovely, two things that I haven't felt very frequently. He cherished me and, though I loved him the best I could and I felt alive and free when I was with him, I could not stop myself from pushing him away.
Was it the 25-year age difference? Was it the knowledge that he didn't have and never wanted children? Was it that I feared my parents' certain negative response? I think it was all of those things and the fact that I actively sabotaged my own happiness for many, many years. In hindsight, I know that I could have been happy with him.
I've thought of him often over the years. . .wondering if he replaced me in his heart and yearning to see him just once more. Did he ever find someone more perfectly lovely than me? I hope he did, but on some selfish & childish level, I hope he didn't because I loved being that piece of feminine perfection for someone.
I can't listen to Cat Stevens sing Wild World without thinking of him. I can't see a specific print without thinking of him. I can't give a bearded man a hug & kiss without thinking of him for just a fleeting moment. And, I suppose in some weird way, I desire the men I desire because I never lost my desire and admiration for this particular man.
My husband and I have discussed this relationship a time or two and hubs is fairly disgusted by it all. Not that he's jealous (if you know my hubs you know that he's one of the most confident men on the planet), but that he thinks this man was a total freaking pervert. Yes, 25-years is a big freaking difference when one person in the relationship is only 17. Yes, it was illegal as it gets. Yes, I can understand that some people just won't understand.
But I maintain that if my husband knew my 17-year old self, he'd also find it impossible to resist my charms. Long dark hair straight down to my waist, only weighed around 115-pounds, teeny-tiny waist with nicely rounded hips, and a free & loose attitude toward sex. Damn, I think I just turned myself on by talking about myself!
Really though, hubs should probably send this man a Thank You note because he opened my eyes to the excitement that can only be found with significantly older lovers. Yeah, a 19-year old kid might bang you all night long, but a man knows how to take his time, how to get all cylinders firing, how to take direction, and how to satisfy intellectually. Perhaps that last bit only applies to me, but I can not get stimulated sexually if I'm intellectually strangled.
So there it is; that's my epiphany. My love of older and bewhiskered men is directly traceable to one man. Sometimes I find it crazy how your past shapes your present and your future.
Wherever he is now, I hope he has the same happiness that I experience. . .and I still kind of wonder if he ever fondly remembers me.
I've always thought it was weird when someone has a very definite "type" that they're interested in, but have noticed that I'm extremely predictable when it comes to the men I pick for dating, mating, and marriage. I know that I've mentioned my proclivities in this blog, but I only realized today that I've had a "type" since I was a teenager. We're always the last to know what's patently obvious to the rest of the world, right?
Desires change over time and, when I was a young teen, I had preferences that differ somewhat from my current choices. In a nutshell, I wouldn't look twice if they didn't have dark skin, hair, and eyes. No blond-haired or blue-eyed albinos were gonna get a piece of my action! I used to joke with my BFF that I was like the UN of dating because every ethnicity and nationality was equally represented. Of course, that's a little bit of an exaggeration!
I was busily watching mid-70s era Eric Clapton videos on youtube while my son napped this afternoon. Shocking, huh? Anyway, I was admiring his full head of hair, his face full of fuzz, and his skinny hips when it hit me - I've been attracted to this look since I was around 17-years old. I'm not saying that I felt all tingly in my girlie parts when looking at 65-year old men, but I'm also not saying that I didn't. In case you're interested, I did today!
But I realized why I like that "type" and it was a revelation to me. I was with a man who sported that exact look back in 1992 or so. We weren't exactly boyfriend-girlfriend in that it wasn't a societally appropriate relationship and I never considered bringing him to meet my parents, but he was absolutely taken with me and I thought he was just wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.
Over the years, I've often thought with disdain about the men who were with my under-aged self. As an adult, I find it repugnant that grown men would take advantage of such a young girl. Sure, I was hot to trot, but I was still a friggin' kid and they should have practiced a little self-control.
Interestingly, I've never lumped this particular man in with that group for some damn reason - and he was far & away the oldest to have me! Why do I give him a pass? I don't know. I guess because he loved me. And, oh, how he loved me. Even as a young girl, I could see that I was a feminized ideal to him. I was the Yoko to his John and he was so smitten. Just over the moon. He made me feel perfect and lovely, two things that I haven't felt very frequently. He cherished me and, though I loved him the best I could and I felt alive and free when I was with him, I could not stop myself from pushing him away.
Was it the 25-year age difference? Was it the knowledge that he didn't have and never wanted children? Was it that I feared my parents' certain negative response? I think it was all of those things and the fact that I actively sabotaged my own happiness for many, many years. In hindsight, I know that I could have been happy with him.
I've thought of him often over the years. . .wondering if he replaced me in his heart and yearning to see him just once more. Did he ever find someone more perfectly lovely than me? I hope he did, but on some selfish & childish level, I hope he didn't because I loved being that piece of feminine perfection for someone.
I can't listen to Cat Stevens sing Wild World without thinking of him. I can't see a specific print without thinking of him. I can't give a bearded man a hug & kiss without thinking of him for just a fleeting moment. And, I suppose in some weird way, I desire the men I desire because I never lost my desire and admiration for this particular man.
My husband and I have discussed this relationship a time or two and hubs is fairly disgusted by it all. Not that he's jealous (if you know my hubs you know that he's one of the most confident men on the planet), but that he thinks this man was a total freaking pervert. Yes, 25-years is a big freaking difference when one person in the relationship is only 17. Yes, it was illegal as it gets. Yes, I can understand that some people just won't understand.
But I maintain that if my husband knew my 17-year old self, he'd also find it impossible to resist my charms. Long dark hair straight down to my waist, only weighed around 115-pounds, teeny-tiny waist with nicely rounded hips, and a free & loose attitude toward sex. Damn, I think I just turned myself on by talking about myself!
Really though, hubs should probably send this man a Thank You note because he opened my eyes to the excitement that can only be found with significantly older lovers. Yeah, a 19-year old kid might bang you all night long, but a man knows how to take his time, how to get all cylinders firing, how to take direction, and how to satisfy intellectually. Perhaps that last bit only applies to me, but I can not get stimulated sexually if I'm intellectually strangled.
So there it is; that's my epiphany. My love of older and bewhiskered men is directly traceable to one man. Sometimes I find it crazy how your past shapes your present and your future.
Wherever he is now, I hope he has the same happiness that I experience. . .and I still kind of wonder if he ever fondly remembers me.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Why Chicks Dig Guitarists
I might be horn-dog, but I'll let you decide after reading this post. What's that? You don't need to read this post to form an opinion on that matter? Hm. . .
If you're friends with me on Facebook, you may have noticed that I've been cruising youtube a lot lately. I love music and I've discovered that the site offers a plethora of live performances that are, quite simply, amazing to enjoy. Over the last several weeks, I've had a blast spending several hours watching clips from long-forgotten television programs and epic concerts from long before my birth.
I was born around twenty-years too late and my musical appetite usually is only sated by late-60s to mid-70s folk music, yacht rock, and the sublime harmonies & polished arrangements that seem to be completely absent in modern music. And guitars, baby. Lord of mercy, I do love guitarists!
My great regret in life is that I never learned how to play an instrument - any instrument. I was actually kicked out of band in school because I couldn't make sound happen when I blew a flute. Uh, settle down, that's not a euphemism for anything sexy. I really could not figure out how to hold my mouth when working with a flute. . .thankfully, the skin variety is far more receptive to my oral manipulations. And, yes, that last part means exactly what you think! Insert a saucy wink here!
I realize that I'm not dead and I still can find the time to learn how to pluck a few chords, but I don't see that happening. In typical parent fashion, I am instead giving my son solid encouragement to take up an instrument. I get the impression that most parents probably hate musical toys, but I actively have bought my son several instruments in an effort to encourage musical exploration. Sure, there are times that the cacophony is a little hard to take, but I'm generally delighted by his artful performances.
The best motherly advice I've given my son to date is this, "Be sure to learn how to be an instrument, the guitar or possibly the piano, because musicians get all the chicks." So sue me, I want him to get laid by hot chicks when he's a grown up. Yeah, I'm sure all this will be worked out in his therapy sessions in about 18-years.
I ran across a clip that effectively demonstrates why chicks dig guitarists. And, to keep the horny vibe going, it's a song by Cream. Heh, I wrote "vibe!" And "horny" and "cream." All in the same sentence! That might be the dirtiest-sounding sentence I've ever written. Okay, you're right; it's nowhere near reaching the notoriety of being the winner in the contest to find the top selection (or would that be bottom?) of my artistic literary depravity.
The entire performance is fantastically awesome, but Clapton is in full God-mode from about 4:05 through the end of the clip. DAMN! That mofo sure can play! Add that he looks high as Hell in this performance and I'm just blown away by his gift.
Check at the 5:20 (to about 5:30) mark to see why I'm captivated by guitarists. Honestly, even the most pug-ugly guitarist can get the chicks if he do that with his hands. I don't think it would take more than around fifteen seconds with that kind of concentrated pressure and vibration - if you catch my drift! I think I got wet just from watching it and I'm not talking about peeing myself.
If a guitarist can work his instrument with that kind of skill and precision, just imagine what he could do with his hands on the instrument of your body. Granted, there is no other guitarist who can come remotely close to the greatness that is Eric Clapton, but the point still stands.
You know, I don't think the word "might" is really necessary in my opening sentence. . .
If you're friends with me on Facebook, you may have noticed that I've been cruising youtube a lot lately. I love music and I've discovered that the site offers a plethora of live performances that are, quite simply, amazing to enjoy. Over the last several weeks, I've had a blast spending several hours watching clips from long-forgotten television programs and epic concerts from long before my birth.
I was born around twenty-years too late and my musical appetite usually is only sated by late-60s to mid-70s folk music, yacht rock, and the sublime harmonies & polished arrangements that seem to be completely absent in modern music. And guitars, baby. Lord of mercy, I do love guitarists!
My great regret in life is that I never learned how to play an instrument - any instrument. I was actually kicked out of band in school because I couldn't make sound happen when I blew a flute. Uh, settle down, that's not a euphemism for anything sexy. I really could not figure out how to hold my mouth when working with a flute. . .thankfully, the skin variety is far more receptive to my oral manipulations. And, yes, that last part means exactly what you think! Insert a saucy wink here!
I realize that I'm not dead and I still can find the time to learn how to pluck a few chords, but I don't see that happening. In typical parent fashion, I am instead giving my son solid encouragement to take up an instrument. I get the impression that most parents probably hate musical toys, but I actively have bought my son several instruments in an effort to encourage musical exploration. Sure, there are times that the cacophony is a little hard to take, but I'm generally delighted by his artful performances.
The best motherly advice I've given my son to date is this, "Be sure to learn how to be an instrument, the guitar or possibly the piano, because musicians get all the chicks." So sue me, I want him to get laid by hot chicks when he's a grown up. Yeah, I'm sure all this will be worked out in his therapy sessions in about 18-years.
I ran across a clip that effectively demonstrates why chicks dig guitarists. And, to keep the horny vibe going, it's a song by Cream. Heh, I wrote "vibe!" And "horny" and "cream." All in the same sentence! That might be the dirtiest-sounding sentence I've ever written. Okay, you're right; it's nowhere near reaching the notoriety of being the winner in the contest to find the top selection (or would that be bottom?) of my artistic literary depravity.
The entire performance is fantastically awesome, but Clapton is in full God-mode from about 4:05 through the end of the clip. DAMN! That mofo sure can play! Add that he looks high as Hell in this performance and I'm just blown away by his gift.
Check at the 5:20 (to about 5:30) mark to see why I'm captivated by guitarists. Honestly, even the most pug-ugly guitarist can get the chicks if he do that with his hands. I don't think it would take more than around fifteen seconds with that kind of concentrated pressure and vibration - if you catch my drift! I think I got wet just from watching it and I'm not talking about peeing myself.
If a guitarist can work his instrument with that kind of skill and precision, just imagine what he could do with his hands on the instrument of your body. Granted, there is no other guitarist who can come remotely close to the greatness that is Eric Clapton, but the point still stands.
You know, I don't think the word "might" is really necessary in my opening sentence. . .
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Me So Hooooorny!
Yeah, I just stole the title of this post from two pop culture references. Do you know the movie and the song? My alternate title was: One Week Down, Five More to Go
What's the surest way to make me think of something non-stop? Much like dealing with a spoiled child, tell me I can't have something and that is all I want to have or think about. I want to throw myself a tantrum on the floor and beg for whatever it is that I can't have.
What am I restricted from for five more weeks? Sex.
I get that I just had a completed miscarriage and all that, but why was I told that I needed 6-weeks of "pelvic rest?" I read the hospital discharge paperwork and was taken aback at the severity of most of the restrictions, but this one really threw me for a loop. Seriously, six-friggin'-weeks. A month and one half. In case you're wondering, I don't think that's considered a short amount of time and I sure as heck don't like to have my hoo-haw ordered on lockdown.
This waiting period seems rather excessive since I'm not in any pain and I'm certainly good to go - if you know what I mean. Add in that I've been on doctor-ordered pelvic rest nearly non-stop since the end of November and you might understand why I'm chomping at the bit to get back to business with my hubs.
I think my lonely pelvis has only been in full operation for like two solid weeks since the very end of November and it's friggin' February now. How much rest does one pelvis really need?? I can truthfully say that my pelvis is plenty rested at this point!
And what the heck does "pelvic rest" mean anyway? I get that penile penetration is probably out, but what about everything else? Is third-base still on the table? And, if that's not okay, then why does every doctor I see lately feel compelled to get their gloved hands up my vadge? What about orgasms? Will I wreck something up there if I just go for the Big O by myself? Is horseback riding okay? What about enjoying a glass of wine and setting the washing machine to agitate for a good long while?
I've come to the conclusion that these doctors hate my husband, therefore I have had a perpetual pelvic rest restriction for what seems like forever. Do these doctors want me to go bat-shit crazy? Because, if so, the diabolical plan is totally working.
In closing, remember this helpful bit of advice the next time you're trying to decide whether or not to have kids or go to the doctor: Kids don't kill your sex life - doctors do!
What's the surest way to make me think of something non-stop? Much like dealing with a spoiled child, tell me I can't have something and that is all I want to have or think about. I want to throw myself a tantrum on the floor and beg for whatever it is that I can't have.
What am I restricted from for five more weeks? Sex.
I get that I just had a completed miscarriage and all that, but why was I told that I needed 6-weeks of "pelvic rest?" I read the hospital discharge paperwork and was taken aback at the severity of most of the restrictions, but this one really threw me for a loop. Seriously, six-friggin'-weeks. A month and one half. In case you're wondering, I don't think that's considered a short amount of time and I sure as heck don't like to have my hoo-haw ordered on lockdown.
This waiting period seems rather excessive since I'm not in any pain and I'm certainly good to go - if you know what I mean. Add in that I've been on doctor-ordered pelvic rest nearly non-stop since the end of November and you might understand why I'm chomping at the bit to get back to business with my hubs.
I think my lonely pelvis has only been in full operation for like two solid weeks since the very end of November and it's friggin' February now. How much rest does one pelvis really need?? I can truthfully say that my pelvis is plenty rested at this point!
And what the heck does "pelvic rest" mean anyway? I get that penile penetration is probably out, but what about everything else? Is third-base still on the table? And, if that's not okay, then why does every doctor I see lately feel compelled to get their gloved hands up my vadge? What about orgasms? Will I wreck something up there if I just go for the Big O by myself? Is horseback riding okay? What about enjoying a glass of wine and setting the washing machine to agitate for a good long while?
I've come to the conclusion that these doctors hate my husband, therefore I have had a perpetual pelvic rest restriction for what seems like forever. Do these doctors want me to go bat-shit crazy? Because, if so, the diabolical plan is totally working.
In closing, remember this helpful bit of advice the next time you're trying to decide whether or not to have kids or go to the doctor: Kids don't kill your sex life - doctors do!
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Sex, Childbirth, and Tight Vaginas
It's been raining for days on end here and, as a result, I've spent a fair amount of time goofing around on the internet while my son totally destroys my living room. I came across a thread on a website I frequently check and it left me more than a little disgusted. The article was about the alarming rise of unnecessary C-sections, unnecesareans if you will, that are being foisted upon American women. The comments on the article were mainly about whether a woman should always opt for a Cesarean so she can keep a "perfect" and tight vagina.
Nearly 33% of babies are now born via C-section and that percentage has risen for the last 13-years. If that doesn't alarm you, then you just don't understand why a Cesarean should only be used in a legitimate emergency situation and you don't realize that 32.9% of births are most certainly not emergency situations. I wonder why no one brings up the incredibly high C-section rate in this country when discussing maternal mortality because it most certainly has an impact on that number.
I understand why Obstetricians may push for a C-section. They do have prohibitively expensive malpractice insurance costs because parents want blood, or money, if their child is born with anything that can remotely be considered a "defect." Doing something, even if it's a major abdominal surgery, is viewed as better than nothing; that is, letting a baby be born the way nature intended - through the vagina.
A certain John Edwards, yes that John Edwards, and his lawsuits concerning cerebral palsy (basically he blamed vaginal birth and, though there is no real evidence to prove that, juries bought his argument) can certainly be thanked for a sharp rise in C-sections. Practicing defensive Obstetrics and adopting the line of, "when in doubt, cut it out," absolutely has to do with bloodsucker attorneys. It is interesting to note that the cerebral palsy rate is roughly the same though Cesareans have increased dramatically in the last several years. But this really isn't about a womanizing failed political candidate who fathered a child while his wife was dying of cancer. This is about how the medical & legal system, and society in general, is failing women and failing newborns.
A Cesarean isn't something to be chosen lightly. It is a major abdominal surgery. Major! Understand that a mother who has experienced (in my opinion, suffered is the better word) a C-section will have to recover from a major abdominal surgery while caring for a newborn and any other children at home. She is more likely to struggle while establishing a breastfeeding relationship because she probably didn't get to nurse her child for an hour or more after delivery and a six-inch scar across her lower abdomen doesn't particularly make it comfortable to have an 8-pound bundle of joy resting on the incision to nurse. She is more likely to have complications while recovering from childbirth because, in addition to delivering a baby, she experienced a major abdominal surgery. She is also more likely to die from childbirth (during and after) than a mother who delivers vaginally. And that's just negative impact on the mom!
The baby is more likely to have breathing difficulties because they didn't get the benefit of having their chest squeezed through the birth canal, thus helping to clear their lungs. The baby doesn't get the benefit of the exposure to bacteria present in normal vaginal flora, which is thought to help reduce asthma, allergies, and various infections. The benefits of breastfeeding for infants is well-documented and babies born via C-section are less likely than their vaginally delivered counterparts to enjoy these benefits for any length of time. The baby, a newborn, is exposed to the analgesics and anesthesia required to perform a major abdominal surgery. This one really gripes me because I lived a very clean life when I was pregnant and I believed that a spinal would not reach my son. . .guess what? Regional anaesthesia does reach the baby.
Before I get a bunch of breastfeeding Cesarean survivors all up in my grill, let me be clear that I'm living proof that it's possible to establish a good nursing relationship - even if you had what is called an "elective" c-section, but it will be a more difficult endeavour than if you'd had a vaginal birth or at least experienced some labor.
It's hard to argue with what I've written thus far because I haven't just been spouting my opinions today. Note though that my position about Cesareans, vaginal births, and vaginal birth after Cesarean (VBAC) have only been strengthened by the facts that I've learned about childbirth in America while I researched this post. Needless to say, I will absolutely prepare myself as much as possible to have a VBAC when it's time for this baby to be born and I'm thankful that our HMO does encourage women to have a VBAC if possible and if the woman so desires.
I've written how the medical and legal system fail women and now I want to focus on how society fails women on this issue. The myth of the "perfect" vagina is just that - a myth. The "perfect" vagina does not exist. Unfortunately, a lot of women do strive to achieve vaginal perfection and they are disappointed when they realize that it is not realistic.
Outside of mainstream porn with their proliferation of vaginas that have clearly had vaginoplasty and labiaplasty, most vaginas are pretty damn weird looking. It's a dark and mysterious place that looks funny inside and out. But guess what? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I'm willing to bet that the individual you have sex with thinks your vagina is freaking spectacular and they probably would love to get in it every single day.
Does vaginal birth "wreck" or "blow out" your vagina? I don't know because I've never experienced a vaginal birth, but I'm inclined to say that it does not get ruined by childbirth. If it did, no one would have more than one child. Seriously, think about it. If vaginas are left permanently floppy and sloppy after childbirth, why would it get penised enough to get the woman pregnant again? The man would have a really difficult time ejaculating if his penis didn't get any friction from the vaginal walls and no ejaculation equals very slim chance of pregnancy.
I'd imagine that the first few times having sex after a vaginal birth aren't really all that great. Perhaps it might still feel a little slack weeks later or maybe stitches (if she was cut or tore) are still irritating. Well, women who have vaginal births aren't the lone rangers when it comes to awkward post-childbirth sex. In my typical way of sharing way too much information, sex after a Cesarean isn't exactly awesome and it very nearly brought me to tears (and they weren't tears of joy) because my incision site was so damned painful more than six-weeks later. And that's not even the entire story. I know it makes no sense, but things somehow felt different on the inside to me too and not in a good way. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I figure that post-childbirth sex isn't going to be the most mind-blowing sex ever experienced so get back in the habit and eventually it will be great again.
Have you (or your partner) experienced vaginal birth? Were Kegels practiced prior to birth and afterward? Long clenches, short & rapid clenches, or a mix of both? What was the end result of the vagina? Did it feel any different? Was sex better, worse or about the same? Am I crazy for throwing caution to the wind and risking the size of my tiny vaginey by deciding to have a VBAC?
I know that I've touched on some fairly controversial issues in this post today. I hope that any comments can be respectful and that we can express ourselves without belittling or attacking each other. Remember to fight the position, not the person.
* * *
Nearly 33% of babies are now born via C-section and that percentage has risen for the last 13-years. If that doesn't alarm you, then you just don't understand why a Cesarean should only be used in a legitimate emergency situation and you don't realize that 32.9% of births are most certainly not emergency situations. I wonder why no one brings up the incredibly high C-section rate in this country when discussing maternal mortality because it most certainly has an impact on that number.
I understand why Obstetricians may push for a C-section. They do have prohibitively expensive malpractice insurance costs because parents want blood, or money, if their child is born with anything that can remotely be considered a "defect." Doing something, even if it's a major abdominal surgery, is viewed as better than nothing; that is, letting a baby be born the way nature intended - through the vagina.
A certain John Edwards, yes that John Edwards, and his lawsuits concerning cerebral palsy (basically he blamed vaginal birth and, though there is no real evidence to prove that, juries bought his argument) can certainly be thanked for a sharp rise in C-sections. Practicing defensive Obstetrics and adopting the line of, "when in doubt, cut it out," absolutely has to do with bloodsucker attorneys. It is interesting to note that the cerebral palsy rate is roughly the same though Cesareans have increased dramatically in the last several years. But this really isn't about a womanizing failed political candidate who fathered a child while his wife was dying of cancer. This is about how the medical & legal system, and society in general, is failing women and failing newborns.
* * *
A Cesarean isn't something to be chosen lightly. It is a major abdominal surgery. Major! Understand that a mother who has experienced (in my opinion, suffered is the better word) a C-section will have to recover from a major abdominal surgery while caring for a newborn and any other children at home. She is more likely to struggle while establishing a breastfeeding relationship because she probably didn't get to nurse her child for an hour or more after delivery and a six-inch scar across her lower abdomen doesn't particularly make it comfortable to have an 8-pound bundle of joy resting on the incision to nurse. She is more likely to have complications while recovering from childbirth because, in addition to delivering a baby, she experienced a major abdominal surgery. She is also more likely to die from childbirth (during and after) than a mother who delivers vaginally. And that's just negative impact on the mom!
The baby is more likely to have breathing difficulties because they didn't get the benefit of having their chest squeezed through the birth canal, thus helping to clear their lungs. The baby doesn't get the benefit of the exposure to bacteria present in normal vaginal flora, which is thought to help reduce asthma, allergies, and various infections. The benefits of breastfeeding for infants is well-documented and babies born via C-section are less likely than their vaginally delivered counterparts to enjoy these benefits for any length of time. The baby, a newborn, is exposed to the analgesics and anesthesia required to perform a major abdominal surgery. This one really gripes me because I lived a very clean life when I was pregnant and I believed that a spinal would not reach my son. . .guess what? Regional anaesthesia does reach the baby.
Before I get a bunch of breastfeeding Cesarean survivors all up in my grill, let me be clear that I'm living proof that it's possible to establish a good nursing relationship - even if you had what is called an "elective" c-section, but it will be a more difficult endeavour than if you'd had a vaginal birth or at least experienced some labor.
I'm not against necessary Cesareans; they do absolutely have their place in Obstetrics. They absolutely can save the lives of mothers and children. But they are performed far too frequently in America and hopefully everyone understands why a vaginal birth is preferable to a Cesarean (in the absence of a true emergency) in terms of maternal and infant health. Even the word "emergency" might be confusing because many women have been lied to about what is a true emergency. For the record, "failure to progress" does not usually signify an emergency; it signifies that the OB wants to go home for the day.
I might add that the true disservice being done to the unnecesarean victim isn't even apparent until the woman wants another child. In some areas and with some doctors, a woman who had one C-section will deliver all future children in the same fashion. Kinda makes you question the motivation behind the actions of some "cutters, " doesn't it? After all, Cesarean deliveries are billable for far larger amounts than a routine vaginal birth.
* * *
It's hard to argue with what I've written thus far because I haven't just been spouting my opinions today. Note though that my position about Cesareans, vaginal births, and vaginal birth after Cesarean (VBAC) have only been strengthened by the facts that I've learned about childbirth in America while I researched this post. Needless to say, I will absolutely prepare myself as much as possible to have a VBAC when it's time for this baby to be born and I'm thankful that our HMO does encourage women to have a VBAC if possible and if the woman so desires.
I've written how the medical and legal system fail women and now I want to focus on how society fails women on this issue. The myth of the "perfect" vagina is just that - a myth. The "perfect" vagina does not exist. Unfortunately, a lot of women do strive to achieve vaginal perfection and they are disappointed when they realize that it is not realistic.
Outside of mainstream porn with their proliferation of vaginas that have clearly had vaginoplasty and labiaplasty, most vaginas are pretty damn weird looking. It's a dark and mysterious place that looks funny inside and out. But guess what? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I'm willing to bet that the individual you have sex with thinks your vagina is freaking spectacular and they probably would love to get in it every single day.
Does vaginal birth "wreck" or "blow out" your vagina? I don't know because I've never experienced a vaginal birth, but I'm inclined to say that it does not get ruined by childbirth. If it did, no one would have more than one child. Seriously, think about it. If vaginas are left permanently floppy and sloppy after childbirth, why would it get penised enough to get the woman pregnant again? The man would have a really difficult time ejaculating if his penis didn't get any friction from the vaginal walls and no ejaculation equals very slim chance of pregnancy.
I'd imagine that the first few times having sex after a vaginal birth aren't really all that great. Perhaps it might still feel a little slack weeks later or maybe stitches (if she was cut or tore) are still irritating. Well, women who have vaginal births aren't the lone rangers when it comes to awkward post-childbirth sex. In my typical way of sharing way too much information, sex after a Cesarean isn't exactly awesome and it very nearly brought me to tears (and they weren't tears of joy) because my incision site was so damned painful more than six-weeks later. And that's not even the entire story. I know it makes no sense, but things somehow felt different on the inside to me too and not in a good way. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I figure that post-childbirth sex isn't going to be the most mind-blowing sex ever experienced so get back in the habit and eventually it will be great again.
Have you (or your partner) experienced vaginal birth? Were Kegels practiced prior to birth and afterward? Long clenches, short & rapid clenches, or a mix of both? What was the end result of the vagina? Did it feel any different? Was sex better, worse or about the same? Am I crazy for throwing caution to the wind and risking the size of my tiny vaginey by deciding to have a VBAC?
* * *
I know that I've touched on some fairly controversial issues in this post today. I hope that any comments can be respectful and that we can express ourselves without belittling or attacking each other. Remember to fight the position, not the person.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Is a Merkin Next??
I've held off on writing this for a long time, but I found a grey eyelash in the last week and it prompted me to actually create this post. There's no time like the present, so here goes. . .
I grew the first grey hairs on my head when I was around 16 or so. I didn't look like Emmylou Harris or anything, but I had a few here and there. I did what any mortified teenager would do: I plucked them out until I began to regularly color my hair.
I discovered a grey eyebrow hair a few years ago. Though I immediately plucked out the offending hair, that miserable little grey thread really bummed me out. I mean, it's no big deal if I begin to sport a crowning glory of silver hair on my head, but grey body hair. . . well, that's something totally different. I've spent enough time on nude beaches to know what was coming next.
Several months ago, it may have been a year, I discovered it. Something that I had been dreading. Something even more disturbing to me than that one damned grey eyebrow hair.
I found a grey pubic hair.
For my younger readers, pubic hair is what is naturally grown on your "mound" or around your "junk." You may well wax it all off, thereby ripping it from your flesh, but it has existed nonetheless. I give props to those of you who go this route as there is no way that I'll commit to keeping a shiny & pristine p*ssy and waxing makes me bleed like a mo-fo. I'm not saying that I'm a Sascrotch or anything, but for hirsute folks like myself, we just try to manage our pubic area effectively while not causing injury to any visitors or ourselves. A controlled chaos, if you will.
Grey pubic hair. Oh man, what a load of crap. How am I possibly old enough to have grey pubes? And what am I supposed to do about it? Shall I begin to color it? It wouldn't be too big of a deal, I suppose. After all, when I used to keep up my hair color, I always made sure the carpet matched the drapes. Perhaps I should just shave it all off and present a pre-pubescent illusion? Not that I have anything against a bald vulva, mind you, it's just that I'm a little weirded out by keeping it that way all the time. Besides, I don't have all day to spend in the shower while I shave my snatch. Maybe I should just pretend it doesn't exist and pluck it out whenever I find one.
So I have grown grey pubic hair. Good fucking grief! What's next? Will I begin to lose my body hair? Actually, all those days spent on nude beaches has prepared me for that inevitability. . .and that leads me back to the title of this post.
Will I be sporting a merkin next?
I grew the first grey hairs on my head when I was around 16 or so. I didn't look like Emmylou Harris or anything, but I had a few here and there. I did what any mortified teenager would do: I plucked them out until I began to regularly color my hair.
I discovered a grey eyebrow hair a few years ago. Though I immediately plucked out the offending hair, that miserable little grey thread really bummed me out. I mean, it's no big deal if I begin to sport a crowning glory of silver hair on my head, but grey body hair. . . well, that's something totally different. I've spent enough time on nude beaches to know what was coming next.
Several months ago, it may have been a year, I discovered it. Something that I had been dreading. Something even more disturbing to me than that one damned grey eyebrow hair.
I found a grey pubic hair.
For my younger readers, pubic hair is what is naturally grown on your "mound" or around your "junk." You may well wax it all off, thereby ripping it from your flesh, but it has existed nonetheless. I give props to those of you who go this route as there is no way that I'll commit to keeping a shiny & pristine p*ssy and waxing makes me bleed like a mo-fo. I'm not saying that I'm a Sascrotch or anything, but for hirsute folks like myself, we just try to manage our pubic area effectively while not causing injury to any visitors or ourselves. A controlled chaos, if you will.
Grey pubic hair. Oh man, what a load of crap. How am I possibly old enough to have grey pubes? And what am I supposed to do about it? Shall I begin to color it? It wouldn't be too big of a deal, I suppose. After all, when I used to keep up my hair color, I always made sure the carpet matched the drapes. Perhaps I should just shave it all off and present a pre-pubescent illusion? Not that I have anything against a bald vulva, mind you, it's just that I'm a little weirded out by keeping it that way all the time. Besides, I don't have all day to spend in the shower while I shave my snatch. Maybe I should just pretend it doesn't exist and pluck it out whenever I find one.
So I have grown grey pubic hair. Good fucking grief! What's next? Will I begin to lose my body hair? Actually, all those days spent on nude beaches has prepared me for that inevitability. . .and that leads me back to the title of this post.
Will I be sporting a merkin next?
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Is Jerking Off a Good Workout?
I guess it is! Think I'm joking? See the commercial clip below and judge for yourself.
Don't guys get enough of this, uh, "exercise?"
I swear that this is how the Shake Weight was invented: Three friends were sitting around a table, trying to come up with a way to make men want to work out more often. They were stumped. Suddenly, Harry Palms stood up and said, "I've got it! Let's make lifting weights more like jerking off!" Dick Tugger nodded silently and Peter Yankodick gave high fives. Yes, they had awiener winner on their hands with this idea.
Back to the pervy commercial, doesn't it look like the guy at :11 just took a load to the face?
Don't guys get enough of this, uh, "exercise?"
I swear that this is how the Shake Weight was invented: Three friends were sitting around a table, trying to come up with a way to make men want to work out more often. They were stumped. Suddenly, Harry Palms stood up and said, "I've got it! Let's make lifting weights more like jerking off!" Dick Tugger nodded silently and Peter Yankodick gave high fives. Yes, they had a
Back to the pervy commercial, doesn't it look like the guy at :11 just took a load to the face?
Monday, September 27, 2010
Will I Be Banging Other Guys??
I usually would be like, "Ah, Hells Naw!" at the title of this post, but a couple of recent situations made me reconsider - and have a hearty laugh. Of course, I am not an adulteress and this post is supposed to be funny. Also realize that I rarely can do funny, so sorry if you think I suck.
My husband was rear-ended while I was in New Jersey for my brother's memorial service. He was rear-ended while driving my car. My relatively new car. My not-totally-paid-for car. {sigh}
He was rear-ended by a manager of sorts for a local Hyundai dealership. The UNINSURED manager of sorts for a local Hyundai dealership. The apparently very important UNINSURED manager of a local Hyundai dealership.
I wasn't exactly happy to find out that my car would be unavailable for a week while it was being fixed. But our local Hyundai dealership performed all the work gratis. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I don't think it looked as awesome when I purchased the car. I think that they even worked the clay compound to make that sheetmetal look like a smooth & clear lake. I guess that UNINSURED manager was very important indeed!
I was cruising with my hubby the other day in my impossibly glassy and awesome ride and we were talking about my upcoming doctor appointment. I'm not a fan of going to the doctor because I have a busy life and getting naked for a guy who I'm not going to screw isn't really high on my list of things to do. My husband sees the same physician that I signed up to see and he said that I'd like the good doctor. I begged to differ because, well, I don't tend to like kickin' it with doctors. Simply put, I have better things to do and I'd imagine they do too.
"What's he like?" I asked.
My husband gave some info about his experiences with the doctor and I thought that it sounded like the doctor was a bossy prick. But then he said that our doctor's first name is Clapton. Clapton!
I might have mentioned in my previous blog that my first choice of name for my son was Clapton. Yes, it is because of the awesome guitar rock god, Eric Clapton. I was showering while pregnant and thinking about names that went well with my last name. I came up with the name "Eric." I ixnayed the name because it was so terribly close to my brother's name (Derek) and I thought that people might think that my son was my brother's son - and we're not from Arkansas, so there you go. My apologies to any Arkansan readers, but surely you know the jokes made about your state.
Anyway, I adore the name Clapton and I pretty much think that any guy named Clapton is going to end up with trim lined up around the block. If he plays the guitar, the p*ssy will only be magnified. So I naturally told my husband that I'd be banging our doctor if he strolled in with a guitar.
My husband gave me a crazy look and said, "I don't think he'll be walking in with a guitar."
Well, in that case, I guess I won't be banging my doctor!
For the first time in a long time, I was watching SNL with my husband. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't SNL supposed to be funny? Or have I finally reached the point that I'm just too old and out of touch to "get it?"
Anyway, they had Amy Poehlner in a sequence that briefly included JT. Ordinarily when I reference JT I'd be talking about James Taylor, but in this case I'm talking about Justin Timberlake. Justin Timberlake of N'Sync fame. Justin Timberlake of super-awesome teeny-bopper lust. Justin Timberlake of "wardrobe malfunction" notoriety.
I looked at my husband and calmly remarked, "I'd f*ck that kid ten ways until Sunday."
I should add that it technically was Sunday. But, um, yeah. As if.
My husband was rear-ended while I was in New Jersey for my brother's memorial service. He was rear-ended while driving my car. My relatively new car. My not-totally-paid-for car. {sigh}
He was rear-ended by a manager of sorts for a local Hyundai dealership. The UNINSURED manager of sorts for a local Hyundai dealership. The apparently very important UNINSURED manager of a local Hyundai dealership.
I wasn't exactly happy to find out that my car would be unavailable for a week while it was being fixed. But our local Hyundai dealership performed all the work gratis. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I don't think it looked as awesome when I purchased the car. I think that they even worked the clay compound to make that sheetmetal look like a smooth & clear lake. I guess that UNINSURED manager was very important indeed!
I was cruising with my hubby the other day in my impossibly glassy and awesome ride and we were talking about my upcoming doctor appointment. I'm not a fan of going to the doctor because I have a busy life and getting naked for a guy who I'm not going to screw isn't really high on my list of things to do. My husband sees the same physician that I signed up to see and he said that I'd like the good doctor. I begged to differ because, well, I don't tend to like kickin' it with doctors. Simply put, I have better things to do and I'd imagine they do too.
"What's he like?" I asked.
My husband gave some info about his experiences with the doctor and I thought that it sounded like the doctor was a bossy prick. But then he said that our doctor's first name is Clapton. Clapton!
I might have mentioned in my previous blog that my first choice of name for my son was Clapton. Yes, it is because of the awesome guitar rock god, Eric Clapton. I was showering while pregnant and thinking about names that went well with my last name. I came up with the name "Eric." I ixnayed the name because it was so terribly close to my brother's name (Derek) and I thought that people might think that my son was my brother's son - and we're not from Arkansas, so there you go. My apologies to any Arkansan readers, but surely you know the jokes made about your state.
Anyway, I adore the name Clapton and I pretty much think that any guy named Clapton is going to end up with trim lined up around the block. If he plays the guitar, the p*ssy will only be magnified. So I naturally told my husband that I'd be banging our doctor if he strolled in with a guitar.
My husband gave me a crazy look and said, "I don't think he'll be walking in with a guitar."
Well, in that case, I guess I won't be banging my doctor!
* * *
For the first time in a long time, I was watching SNL with my husband. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't SNL supposed to be funny? Or have I finally reached the point that I'm just too old and out of touch to "get it?"
Anyway, they had Amy Poehlner in a sequence that briefly included JT. Ordinarily when I reference JT I'd be talking about James Taylor, but in this case I'm talking about Justin Timberlake. Justin Timberlake of N'Sync fame. Justin Timberlake of super-awesome teeny-bopper lust. Justin Timberlake of "wardrobe malfunction" notoriety.
I looked at my husband and calmly remarked, "I'd f*ck that kid ten ways until Sunday."
I should add that it technically was Sunday. But, um, yeah. As if.
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