Unsexy Walk

So in a moment of feeling jiggly, I gathered Boy and Dog up for a jaunt around the neighborhood. I figured that should be good for 3 or 4 pounds of post-stuffing/mashed potatoes/gravy mixed with apple pie in one bowl water weight.

When we got to the top of the driveway, I realized Dog still had his Invisible Fence collar around his neck. Thanks to the advent of around the waist leashes (no more choosing if I should carry my phone or my wine!) I quickly snapped it off and crossed the Invisible Line. I was holding the fabric part of the leash but the metal part, the vital part that delivers a Stage 5 mad shock, was touching the metal handle of the stroller.

Flashback to some high school science class when we learned that metal was a pretty fabulous conductor. The jolt that kicked my elbow was more intense than contractions.

But the worse part was when my husband yelled up the driveway (between shrieks of laughter) "That will teach you to leave the yard!"

Unsexy Positions

In your 20's it is fine, nay encouraged, to have sex with the lights on and with mirrors strategically placed. Once the Big 3-0 surprise birthday party has come and gone however, things slow down, shift, sag and spotlights pointing out that fact is way less than sexy. I mean good for you it you are like, "Gerl, I go to bed with a Sharpie to point out exactly what's a happenin'." But I am all about "out of sight, out of mind."

What brings this on is last night: having some racy weekday sex, lights on (I had worked out that day and had only eaten raisins), I was on top and happened to glance at myself in the closet door mirror mid-Cowgirl thrust. When I stopped moving, it took a few seconds for everything to catch up. (special effect of a boner slowly drooping).

It got me thinking of other positions that porn stars seem to make look glamorous but common folk can't quite seem to achieve. I'll jump right to the winner of the Unsexiest Position: 69. I'm not sure what caveman invented this charming maneuver, but I would bet that if pressed under the influence, most men would agree this rarely works. Unless you are exactly the same height, your choice is either a bum in your face or your parts around his neck so you can reach his...and at that point you may as well be kneeling on tile like you were when all this started.

Now I am off to Position 11, sleeping side by side...

These Boots are Made for...

Last night was a Toddler potluck for Baby Boy's play group. As days tend to do, it flew by and personal grooming took a backseat to making a somewhat kid-friendly cheese platter to bring. (My son loves Camembert and goat cheese, why shouldn't they?)

My phone alarm whined a 15-minute warning, leaving no time to shave my very hairy, pale legs. Problem solved: I will wear my fabulous knee-high gray suede boots. I will look amazing and no one will know of the rainforest sprouting below my thighs.

Upon walking into the gorgeous entryway, I notice the small mountain of shoes, kid and adult alike. My panicked eyes rose to see stocking footed daddies and nylon-clad mommies slipping across the cherry floors.

SHIT.

"Um, yes," the hostess says taking my stinky French cheese platter from me. "Just had the floors refinished, so I'm sure you understand that we cannot, cannot have little heel marks." She jutted her chin to the shoes. "So you can just...okay then."

Baby Boy was long gone into the gigantic playroom so snatching him by his hood and dragging him back home wasn't possible. The lights were on way too bright to hope that I could hide in the shadows. I could say I was Mommy and Daddy both?

Off came the boots and then the idea hit me. I avoided the swam of guests and locked myself in the bathroom. Digging through drawers I found a dull, plastic razor but no lotion or cream with which to prepare and moisturize the skin. Oh well. The razor was so dull that it skipped across my legs knicking and biting wherever it could. Dots of blood appeared soon turning into streams puddling on the white granite floor.

I grabbed a "for guests only" towel and feeling giddy, sopped up the blood with the monogrammed linen.

20 minutes later: I was hairless and the bleeding had pretty much stopped. Or so I thought until a few minutes into the buffet the hostess slipped me a tampon as her chin jutted down to the blood running down my calves.

A-B-C is as Easy as....$7500.00

What is Unsexy are my bubbies. They were fine pre-baby--not huge, but at least they didn't go through the days staring at my feet. I never had a problem with them--except when once during foreplay, a boy said they were "cute and perky," which really isn't the most sensual language one can hear. Next time we fooled around, I told him his P was "cute and perky." We never saw each other again.

So 8 months after breast feeding and my boobs are sad, deflated zucchinis and though I appreciate and respect (blah, blah, blah) their function in nourishing my son, as a woman I am horrified at what they have become--what I am sporting makes me looks like a less tan Magda from Something About Mary.

After thinking about getting them lifted, (and that is what I am telling people even though I want to go all out and get them DONE) I called to have a consultation. The place I chose has this state-o-the-art 3-D imaging program so you can really see what different sizes will look like on you.

I don't think I am a boob-job type of gal, but I think if I can walk away not looking like a porn star but like Blake Lively, I will be really happy.

Then again, after I get a copy of a picture of me as a "full C" maybe that will be all I need to sate my need for fabulous breasts. I can hang that on the fridge, keep buying Stage 5 padded bras and no one will be the wiser--except my toes that feel constantly judged from my nipples that they really need a pedicure.

G2GUL Friday! Sexy White Dessert

Happy Guaranteed to Get You Laid Friday! Many places are getting their first dusting of snow so in celebration of the beginning of winter, here is A Sexy White Dessert. This is such a sensual, romantic dessert that can get you into trouble once you start researching creative ways to eat it.

A Sexy White Dessert – Strawberry Zabaglione

2 eggs
30g golden caster sugar
2tbsp marsala
90ml double cream, softly whipped
25 strawberries, 7 pureed, the rest kept whole
small biscuits to decorate

Put the eggs, sugar, marsala and a pinch of salt in a large glass bowl. Fill another larger bowl with iced water and set aside. Put the first bowl over (not in) a pan of simmering water. Whisk the mixture with electric beaters until very thick or about 3 times the volume. Remove from the heat and set inside the bowl of iced water, then whisk again until cold. Fold in the whipped cream and pour into glasses. Swirl a spoonful of the puree through each. Decorate with whole strawberries, then chill for at least 3 hours before serving.

Guilt isn't Sexy

Even when I am not carrying my 25-lb Toddler around, I am still lugging a heavy sack of guilt. All moms do it, which is why we always walk lopsided. I wish I could blame Darling Husband for this baggage, but it is all me. I feel like I have to hide any moment in the day that I take for myself. When DH comes home with, "So, what did you do today?" I quickly rattle off the scads of things I crossed off my list and never mention the two pages of my very overdue library book that I snuck in.

SAHM's get a reputation for having this really easy life that revolves around drunken story times and watching shirtless gardeners weed wack the yard. I promise you that isn't true...it is much too cold in November to make them take their shirts off. But we feel like we need to prove how hard "staying home" really is to the detriment of all else.

Even if I set aside time to read or get a pedi, I can't focus or enjoy it because the Nagging Mother in me is criticizing the waste of time and money.

"How nice that your toes are painted Black Cherry Chutney--they will look splendid against the giant piles of smooshed food and dirty clothes all over the floors at home."

But feeling constantly worn down and haggard and intellectually depleted doesn't do anymore for the ego than the black guilt, so today's Sexy Naptime is to really, truly have some Guilt-Free Mama time.

The magic in this is that Mamas are fabulous multi-taskers. It does ease some pressure if you have a load in the dryer, dinner in the crock pot and wine in the chiller.

I had the sitter take Baby Boy for the morning so I could clean the house without him "helping" and once that was done, took a fabulously indulgent hour to eat peanut butter and catch up on Tom Kat and Brangelina, and there ain't nothing wrong with that.

Unsexy Noises

UnSexy Tip of the Day: Never Fart and believe people think your baby/dog/husband did it. They always will think it is you.

Sexy Clean Pantry

My big project for Sexy Naptime was to completely gut and reorganize my pantry. What sparked this was Darling Husband informing me that canned tomatoes were now supposedly poisonous. Apparently, the acid in the tomatoes causes BPA lining the cans to leach into my famed spaghetti sauce. I did some unscientific research and found no conclusive results regarding Attack of the Killer Tomatoes. However, the thought of a spotless pantry was as intoxicating as swimming in champagne.

Since we are a mostly vegetarian household, I pulled scads of chicken stock, soups and other things along with the allegedly evil cans of tomatoes that easily filled two giant drum liners.

Enter ethical dilemma.

I hate wasting food, so the thought of these bounteous bags getting tossed at the dump made me cringe. On the other hand, is it OK to offload these unopened yet mostly expired (potentially BPA-ridden) goods at the closest food pantry?

This is the time of year when do-gooding is done. Schools, businesses and charities conduct food drives all over the city. Most people grab whatever cans have the most dust on them and never give it another thought. But consider the ones who end up with your neglected cans. If you didn’t eat your olives or (I’m not making this up) pork brains in milk gravy, chances are they won’t be fighting over them at the church either.

Food pantries are not a place to dump whatever is leftover or cheap. The majority of donated foods are high in sodium and lacking in nutritional value. There is a rising number of children who receive donated food items. Think about what these growing kids, who are already questioning where their next meal will come from, need to thrive. What do you feed your own kids? Whole grains and pasta, canned vegetables and fruits they’ll actually eat, low sodium soups, granola bars, crackers and peanut butter and throw in some cookies, they are kids after all.

When you shop for your own family, buy a few duplicate items to drop off with your kids so they can see first hand how some people live rather than ignoring your dinnertime speeches about all the hungry kids that would kill for that squash.

Sexy Red

I am now a red head again--nothing makes me feel more sexy or confident than have vibrant red hair. I highly recommend if you are craving a change...

Sexy Scrabble

I have taken a few days off of even checking my email--a virtual fast of sorts. It has felt good to not feel strapped to FB updates or constant IM greetings. (what doesn't feel good is seeing 235 messages in my Inbox).

My mother in law is here and she is like a Scrabble professional--I have beaten her twice (in 7 years) and that has made me feel very boastful, especially when I come up with words like Equine on the triple word score.

We played all afternoon and my random letters gave me consecutive words: sexy, horny, breast and ass. As to not make more discomfort e.g every movie we came across on TV last night had some sort of raunchy sex scene in it, I opted for hex, corny, rest and as....I lost.

Unsexy Vote

I am saddened and repulsed that my state voted to repeal the rights of same sex couples to marry. Their misleading ad campaign (backed by the church) was revolting--do people really believe that "explicit gay sex" is taught to 2nd graders?

All that students will take from this is that it is OK to hate. 

Unsexy/Sexy Halloween

Another Halloween has passed, i.e. Dress up as a Slutty nurse/teacher/bunny Day--damn those slutty rabbits!  My BFF and I dressed as Before and Afters--she was the Before in black stilettos, black dress, pink apron, perfect hair and nails, holding a tray of handmade meat pies. I, the After, dressed in rollers, bright green cleansing mask (which was actually frosting b/c the mask, when dry, made it impossible to speak), unflattering pajamas, slippers and I held a bottle of wine called Mad Housewife. 

Long after the kids had gone to bed, and the butter-based frosting had guaranteed me a breakout worthy of 10th grade, the ladies got into a discussion about how we felt some husbands haven't "held up their end of the bargain" since marriage. It boiled down to that the men bent over backwards to get us to be their wives: trips, jewels, poems, flowers, watching shows on Bravo...none of us could even recall the last time we got flowers. One husband told his wife when she remarked on this that, "Every time you buy flowers at the grocery store, who do you think pays for those?" 

Lovely.

But have we held up our end of the proverbial bargain? When I think about how much time I spent in the gym and how much money I spent on waxing and blow outs to "get a husband," that isn't feasible for my current lifestyle. But there is a wonderful intimacy that comes with being married that we tend to write off because it doesn't feel the same as the all encompassing 

lust that comes with dating. 

We need to shift focus from being pissed off that that feeling is gone (occasionally stirred when the hot UPS driver pulls in) to embracing the other ways our husbands show us they care. 

Some recent things I thought of: letting me sleep in this morning until almost 9am; going to the grocery store without being asked and getting all the right brands of food; bringing home Thai for dinner even though he was already miles past the restaurant when I called asking for it; washing my car...these are just a few. Granted, they are more subtle and not as sweep-me-off-my-feet as diamond earrings, but made me feel so loved and part of a team. 

Now ladies, we need to come up with a few things we know they love. Mine include: cook him a steak even though I am a vegetarian and basically force him to be as well; move some of his Netflix picks to the top half of the queue; stop throwing away his Megan Fox Rolling Stone; actually give him the neck rub that I promise nightly...and when in doubt, blow jobs are never wrong.