Tasting Lips of Wine

I LOVE it when I wake up in the morning after having wonderful dreams full of passion.

Call me a woman, but I prefer the romantic & passionate dreams over the hard core XXX sex ones.

Actually, it's not really romance exactly. Chocolate and roses and stuff like that are boring in dreams. I like the really passionate ones...the way you feel when you are first attracted to someone - that FIRE, you know? Lots of passion. Those dreams are awesome.

I had one last night and I feel fantastic. It feels like I just met someone new and that I've got a crush going on. I've got that glowing happy feeling.

And not that I'm overly lacking in passion in my life or that I'm unhappy right now in that way. And I'm not LOOKING for anything outside my marriage. My husband and I have a very stable kind of love (at least if you ask me today we do. Ask me again tomorrow.)...we understand each other completely. We are companions. There is still attraction and passion, but I'm sorry, it will never be the way it was 16 years ago when we first met, b/c...well...we first met 16 years ago, not yesterday! It can't be repeated! It can be revised and revisited and rekindled, but not repeated.

So the dreams and getting that feeling back is fun. In my dream last night, I met Benicio Del Toro at a party.

I used to have a huge crush on him. He can look bad, but he can look really good sometimes in a dark way. At this party, he was really into me, and I was digging it. We flirted and flirted, and ended up in some back room. I can't even remember if we kissed or did anything, but we were getting there. Just the fact that he was attracted to me was awesome.
















You know how dreams are weird. Come to think of it, it wasn't really Benicio Del Toro. I mean it was supposed to be him, but he really looked more like Adrian Grenier. His eyes were definitely Adrian's.























There was also a little bit of this guy from Tracker in him, a Tracker I will not name! In my dream, this Benicio/Adrian/Tracker dude combo talked kind of funny. He was cute, but at times he looked squirrelly. But in the dream, I was like, "so he's a little odd. It's BENICIO DEL TORO! And he wants ME!".

And I woke up feeling all girlish and giddy, and I still feel that way.

I think that is the way to go. If you need that beginning of a relationship passion forever in your life, instead of getting divorced and remarried all the time in order to constantly try to maintain that beginning passion (and I know that's not the only reason people get divorced, but I do believe it's the reason for some), enjoy your dreams fully. If you don't dream, fantasize. My dreams are very safe. No one will get hurt, and I can enjoy the passion fully without any heartbreak. When I have dreams like that about my husband, that is the ideal. But I'll take movie stars, too.

Imaginary lovers
Never turn you down
When all the others turn you away
They're around
It's my private pleasure
Midnight fantasy
Someone to share my
Wildest dreams with me
Imaginary lover
You're mine anytime
Imaginary lover, oh yeah

When ordinary lovers
Don't feel what you feel
And real-life situations lose their thrill
Imagination's unreal
Imaginary lover, imaginary lover
You're mine anytime

[Instrumental Interlude]

Imaginary lovers never disagree
They always care
They're always there when you need
Satisfaction guaranteed
Imaginary lover, imaginary lover
You're mine all the time
My imaginary lover
You're mine anytime


It's a cheesy song to hear, but I like the words. And of course, don't forget The Everly Brothers:

Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
When I want you in my arms
When I want you and all your charms
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream

When I feel blue in the night
And I need you to hold me tight
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam

I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine
Anytime night or day
Only trouble is, gee whiz
I'm dreamin' my life away

I need you so that I could die
I love you so and that is why
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam

I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine
Anytime night or day
Only trouble is, gee whiz
I'm dreamin' my life away

I need you so that I could die
I love you so and that is why
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream


(But, "gee-whiz", that seems to be about someone specific and a bit obsessive and melodramatic.)

If you are my husband, don't EVER respond to a personal ad. In fact, don't even look at them. Don't even THINK about them.

I listened to The Pina Colada Song on the way to work today, word for word. I mean I really listened to the story.

At the end, they are all "oh ha ha, ah me, it's YOU! " chuckle chuckle giggle.

Let me just say that if this scenario happened to my husband and me, a huge fight would ensue.

"What the f? Why the hell are you placing personal ads looking to screw someone? Pina coladas my ass"

"Well, what about YOU?? You just did the same thing and I caught you!"

"Oh, well, uh, no you didn't. I only did this to see if I could trick YOU into responding, and you FAILED the test!"

"why are you testing me???"

etc.


At least that's how things would happen in my dysfunctional world. That wouldn't make for as good of a song though. :)

Do you ever...

....drive through a stoplight following other cars, and then wonder afterwards if the light was really green?

...drive all the way to work and then realize you don't remember anything at all about the drive?

These things happen to me all the time. Especially with regards to the latter, this is why it is advised that you take different routes to routine destinations every now and again. You become so familiar with the same routes, that you get too comfortable (and in my case, you start daydreaming about how you are a rock star, or about how the person you had a crush on in h.s. is going to think you are SO HOT at your 20-year reunion next year and will gaze at you from across the room wishing they had you and how they will rue the day they rejected you....all with the music on the radio as the backdrop to the scene), and are therefore more likely to have an accident. That is why they say accidents are more likely to happen closer to home.

And those are Karla's Words of Wisdom for the day. Or maybe Karla's Stating the Obvious.

In any case, I had to put a post above my Sick of Shit post, which has been there forever, and which I keep reading as SACK of Shit. I have not been Sick of Shit for this long, I promise. It was just a day or two, at most. Now, I am thoroughly enjoying the shit for all it's color and aroma. After all, it never really goes away; it's all in how you choose to deal with it.

sick of shit

I am at a point, unfortunately, where I am sick of everyone's shit. Just sick of it. Whine whine whine...right? no - I don't freaking have a hard life. I have an easy life. But one more little shovel of shit and I swear....I am on the brink. I am sick of people's fucking bullshit and the pile and stink it is making on my otherwise happy life.

Something has got to change. Me. Other people. Things. Something.

Comments on a play..

My husband and I went to see an interesting play Saturday: The Persecution and Assassination of Jean-Claude Marat by the Marquis De Sade. See if you can follow this: It was supposed to be De Sade's play, that de Sade wrote to be acted out by the inmates of the asylum in which he was committed in the 18th century. But really, the play was written by a 20th century playwright; he wrote it as if it was de Sade writing it. To make matters more confusing, the play we were watching was supposed to be acted out by modern inmates in a modern asylum, but they were pretending to be the 18th century inmates. So it was a play within a play within a play.

So the whole time, I thought it was supposed to be de Sade and Marat and Charlotte Corday (Marat's murderer) actually as inmates in the asylum....but really they were just inmates pretending to be those characters. Actually, they were inmates pretending to be those inmates pretending to be those characters.

It was so weird...it was in a smaller theater where you sit very close to the stage, the seats wrapping around the stage. The whole thing was set up as if you were in a real insane asylum. As we waited in line to enter the theater, a girl walked around yelling at everyone to turn their cell phones off b/c the inmates will go nutso if they ring. Cute.

Then they only let us in one at a time. After they beckoned me, I walked up to the door, away a bit from the rest of the line, and had to wait for the door opener to get some queue that it was okay to enter...then they open the door, say you can go in, and close it behind you (the door having these loud bam! and clicking noises as if really asylum doors). Next you wait in a waiting room for a sec, and another guy sprinkles holy water or something on the wall and lets you in. Crazy!

The theater was almost full when I walked in, so I just waited for my husband by the door. All of the "inmates" were mostly naked (they had flesh colored undies on) and were lined up, stoic and expressionless, against the back walls of the theater, behind the seats.

So my husband and I ended up in the front row (I think everyone else was too chicken to take those seats, so we didn't have much of a choice. Some of the inmates were at our feet half of the time), and when the play started , all of the inmates ran up on stage and starting hastily wrapping themselves in this gauze like stuff, and then the play began.

I could go on and on, but I'll just say the play was really good...and eerie...and interesting. There was a lot of groping and sexuality about it (being it is supposed to be about de Sade, after all).

The guy who played Marat had a fantastic body. OMG. He was half-naked too... just a beautiful physique. He was also a great actor. His voice inflection reminded me of Ralph Fiennes. The guy who played de Sade was an excellent actor, as well, but not as great of a body. He was thin...which I imagine de Sade to be tall and thin. Actually, I've looked it up, and he ended up being quite obese in his older age. I'm not sure how old he was supposed to be in this play. Charlotte Corday was also very good, and and quite attractive and appealing as an actress. Most of the other actors could really look in to doing some Body for Life. :)

When the play was over, the "inmates" stripped down out of their gauze wraps, ran off the stage, and lined up against the wall again, except this time, they were facing the wall with their backs to us. That was even freakier than the beginning. It reminded me of the Blair Witch Project.

And like the end of the BWP when I saw it in the theater, the audience just sat there in the end not knowing what to do. So we all just awkwardly clapped...but the actors stayed in character and never came back to bow or any of that. It just got all quiet, everyone sat there for a couple of seconds, and then we started quietly filing out of there. Cool.

(btw...I wish I would have let my cell phone ring. No one's did. I wonder if they worked it in the play to actually go berserk if one started ringing)

I don't care what anyone says...

...but is is tough finding time to exercise properly when you have a child.

I am not talking about using the fact that you have a child as an excuse not to exercise. It can be done. I'm just saying all things being equal, it is way tougher to find time to work out if you have a child than if not. I should add in particular that I'm talking about babies really. Mine is 19 months old. I can't say yet if it is more difficult if one has older children.

I speak from experience. I was without child for more than 10 years after I got married. Without a baby, really, I had all the time in the world to do whatever I wanted. My husband was/is not an obstacle at all, as he is generally supportive of most of my endeavors. Besides, he was working 2nd shift (i.e. I was alone from 5 pm to 2 am nightly), so I had all kinds of time to myself - to exercise, sing karaoke, perform rock operas in my living room - whatever!

I am not complaining. I LOVE being a mom and having a son, and I don't miss my past life and don't want it any other way. I am only comparing my life pre-child versus post-child when it comes to working out....and as I said, all things being equal, it is way more difficult to find the time. That is, if you want to be a good mom.

I could ignore my kid and do what I want to do, but I don't want to do that. A big part of this problem is that I work 40 hours a week outside the home. So I really want to spend time with him...as much time as possible, when I am home. That, to me, is more important than getting a workout in.

I know it's important to keep my own health up, too, for the sake of my son, and I'm still doing that. But damn...if time is tight, and I have a choice of working out for an hour versus playing with my baby after not seeing him all day, you are damn right that I am playing with the baby.

In some ways, being a SAHM might be harder, but I know I'd get my workouts in if I was one, and I'd get a heck a lot more stuff down around the house, too. For one thing, my mom can watch the baby one day a week so that would buy me some time. Also, at this writing, baby sleeps for 2-4 hours in the afternoon, so I get stuff done then on weekends (if I don't crash), so I know I could do it on week days, too.

Right now, all I do is work all day then take care of my family on week days, with barely anything extra home-wise on weekends. My household management has gone to hell in a hand basket. I literally don't have the time! And I'm not even watching much TV or wasting my time in ways like that. We end up having the same Netflix movies for months due to the lack of time, in fact. I don't have much time for the computer either...I have to schedule it in if I want to indulge.

My wanting to spend time with baby has nothing to do with my husband helping or not helping either. He helps. I am just really attached to the little guy (baby, not husband. He's not little. So he likes to think), and I want to keep it that way.

This is one of those things that I was wrong about pre-motherhood. I thought moms were just making all kinds of excuses and were lame. But now I understand (and the list of things I "understand" now goes on and on...you really CANNOT judge ANYONE unless you've lived their lives...it's true. And since you will never live someone else's life directly, you can never judge.).

That said...I am still getting my workouts in (although it may not be absolute perfection like I aspired to pre-baby), and having children is still not a good excuse for not exercising at all. I'm just saying, it is a lot harder than it was when it was just me I had to think about.

And I just have one child. I can't imagine 5, or having 3 below the age of 5, or anything like that. I would think it would be damn near impossible if that were the case, whether you are a SAHM or not.

Now, as my son gets older and becomes not so dependent on me for his every need (and in fact wants me to get out of his face which will be duly noted by the "KEEP OUT" sign on his bedroom door) , I would imagine it'll get easier to get my time in. Unless of course I'm spending all my spare time running around to soccer games and practice.

In conclusion, I don't care what anyone says, it is way harder to find any kind of me time, let alone to work out, for an hour if you have a 19-month old son versus having no kids at all. It can be done, but it takes a lot more planning and energy and resources. Everyone should respect that fact.

If this blog was a car...

....someone would have written "wash me" in the dust by now.

:)

Berger Time

And moving on to an entirely offbeat subject, as is the usual fare with me:

What is the deal with these freaking big ass boogers?

I mean, I am not sick. I do not have a cold. Yet every morning I wake up with these gigantic boogers in my nose. And I'm sorry, but the only way to get them out is with the good ol' finger. However, I am not rubbing them off on the dresser, nor am I eating them. Ewww. Heh...I wait until I get in the bathroom for nasal exploration, where I dispose of them properly in my husband's sink. Kidding! A tissue.

But still...these big ass boogers. What the heck? It's an almost strange satisfaction to get them. out.


My husband is getting them, too. Is there something wrong with the air quality in our house? Is it just b/c it's so freaking dry right now? We run the humidifier at night. So is there mold or dust in our house, or what????

anyway...


***************************************************************

Related to boogers, for reasons unknown to me, my parents pronounce "boogers" as "bergers". If you are raised to pronounce a word the wrong way, you don't know any better. Let me share the story of the day I discovered I did not pronounce this word correctly. I'll give you three guesses as to how I learned this:


1) Looked it up in Webster's

2) My parents realized their mistake and then re-taught me the correct pronunciation

3) I was made fun of by other kids



If you picked either 1) or 2), you lived a very sheltered life. You were also very smart and had open-minded parents.


I was at a slumber party in 5th or 6th grade, slumber parties being the mecca for personal slander against your peers (I was made fun of at 10 years old for never having French kissed before. French kissing at 11? And this was 1981!! See...kids have been messing around like that for years...)

Who knows how the topic surfaced, but I sad the toxic word for whatever reason:

"Berger"

"WHAT??? What did you just say???"

(again..I am nor never was good with the comebacks or the impromptu task of saving myself from embarrassment. So, I just meekly said it again, the wrong way, again, like an idiot)

"berger....????"

(finger pointing...)

"BWHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHAHAH!!!!! DID YOU HEAR WHAT KARLA SAID? SHE SAID 'BERGER'. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!!:

(I should add that this bitch was the leader of the popular pack at the time [she later became the class whore and flunked out], so the other kids joined in unison):

"BWHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!! SHE SAID 'BERGER'!!!!

(the only response I could think of, said again, very meekly:)

"Well, how do you say it then?"

"BOO-ger. It's BOO-ger"

(said in the most exaggerated way possible, both for effect and for corrective purposes)

(more laughter)

at which my time honored response was:





...





...





...







to look like I was about to cry.

"What's wrong with YOU??? You look like you are about to cry!!!"


And so in true 5th grade melodramatic fashion, I do an about face and go running into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind me.

Still staying true to form in 5th grade fashion, the other girls form a committee outside the door, trying to decide what to do next, everyone wanting to be the savior of the situation. I heard the popular girl exclaim "I'm the one who did it! I should be the one she lets in".

Then the mom intervened and seemed rather annoyed by my tactics, so I eventually came out on my own. I actually don't remember what happened immediately following that. I remember lying that I just didn't feel good, and then the mom offering me various medicines that I refused.

This same leader of the pack girl, by the way, created a bit of a fiasco at my own slumber party when she mooned us all. But it wasn't her fault. We had put her into a trance.

Anyway, that's my boo-ger story. And for a long time, I still pronoucned it wrong. I kept exaggerating the BOO...like the mean girl did at the party. It wasn't until I met my husband that I was properly and finally (but nicely) corrected once and for all. Thank God I can finally say that word right.

Fat Lipped Girls Make the Rockin' World Go Round

Celebrities, rich women, regular women, whomever: You need to stop getting lip injections or implants to make your lips look bigger and thicker.


Seriously.


Stop it.


Now.


It's hideous.



Naturally thick lips are, or can be, beautiful. See Angelina Jolie.


Artificially thickened lips are hideous.


I don't understand why people think these are necessary. Granted, I have thin lips, but I'd much rather have these naturally thin lips than those unnaturally thickened lips.


I've seen studies before regarding this and how it all goes down to the biological level of physical attraction. These studies say that thickened lips remind the male counterpart of our species of the labia, and thickened, engorged labia are a sign of sexual arousal. Therefore, thick lips (back to the face again here) are supposed to be attractive.


Hey, again, naturally thick lips, cool. Fake ones look really bad, especially when the owners start trying to talk with them.


As far as sexual arousal, and the possibility that maybe blow jobs are better with thick lips...well...at least I've got a long tongue that I can point at will. (and please....do not get surgery to make your tongue long and pointy. Work with what you've got, people).

Sarcasm School

EDIT 2-15-08: I've decided to delete most of this post for the simple reason that I do not like to slam my friends on the internet. I think that is in bad form. I feel better now that I vented, and I think I've found novel and witty ways to deal with her. I trust everyone that read it agreed with me. If you didn't have a chance to read it, well, I'm sure you weren't missing much.

**************************************************************************

And related to my previous post about being positive..."When Sarcasm Goes Wrong":


Being sarcastic can be funny. Being sarcastic can also be mean, also known as "sardonic" - cruelly sarcastic. I have made the mistake many times, but I don't like it when I make that mistake. My aim is to be witty, or funny at best, not to hurt people.


Sarcasm should be used carefully. It probably shouldn't be used at all when talking about other people, as opposed to using it regarding situations.

[rest of this deleted...see above]

[all you need to know is:.........]
She needs a lesson in sarcasm. She needs to enroll in Sarcasm School.

On Being Positive

I am on a new, or rather, renewed quest to be a positive person.



I was reading a motivational book by a religious guy. I had to stop reading though when he got just a little *too* Jesus-y on me. I "believe" and all that. I really do. It's just that, I have my own style of worship, and well...my style is just not like the author's style. I like his sermons, but, well, I just don't quote scripture to people. I just don't. I don't think there is anything wrong with it, although I can't imagine hanging out with a script quoter all day if they did it all day like that. I can't explain it other than I just don't quote scripture out loud all day. If you knew me in person, you'd understand.



Back to the point, much of his message is plain logic, and true. This is true for fitness or for any aspect of your life, but he is saying that you are what you think you are. You feel what you think you feel. If you have positive thoughts and positive outlooks, that's what you'll get. The opposite is true of negative thoughts and feelings. In psychology, it's called the "self-fulfilling prophecy".



I have spent my whole life being a negative person, unfortantly. I never realized this until recently. I don't believe most negative people know what downers they are. I'm not even going to go into the background of why I have been negative - I could come up with a million reasons - but I don't think it's important. What is important now is today and the future.



I once had a "friend" tell me about 10 years ago that I was too negative for her to hang out with anymore. That hurt like heck and I didn't believe her. I see her point now, although she did not go about it in the right way...her approach was wrong (i.e. she was pretty mean to me about it). But maybe there is no right approach to that. She was trying to get rid of the negative influences in her life, friends that would bring her down in their negativity, and that is what I am trying to do now. Actually, I've been working on that the last few years. There are no friends I'm going to dump at the moment, heh.



Currently, I am working on controlling my own thoughts. I used to be really down on myself. That aspect of negativity I think I have mostly conquered.



What I really have to work on now is not being so negative about other people, and about certain hands that fate had dealt me or continues to deal to me, or rather, the hands fate seems to deal me, in my warped perception.



My husband is really bad at this (I hope I didn't make him this way after living w/me for so long), and we feed off each other. We automatically assume the worst in people, and in situations. We have gone to the grocery store hating every person we ran into b/c they "got into our way" or "purposely" did something to slight us. Driving is horrid. Everyone and every thing is out to get us. Every company and business is out to screw us over.



Whew....what a drag! I don't want to be that way anymore. There's a difference between joking around about how stupid people are, and really hating your fellow men and women. It brings you down, and bad stuff does happen to you, if that's the way you want to look at.



But we have so many blessings, too many to take for granted. I'm not sure if I can change my husband's way of thinking, but I am hoping that my positive outlook will eventually rub off on him.



So every day, I drown out negative thoughts with positive ones, and I tell myself good things will happen. I look in the mirror and tell myself that I am going to have a good day. I try to watch and read mostly positive movies and books, and if I watch or read downers, I don't see it as a reflection of my own life. I want my son to learn a positive way of thinking from me. It would be way easier to learn that from your parents and to grow up with it, than to try at 37 like I am.



It's not easy. And I screw up all the time. But, I already feel happier, and feel that things will get even better and that the future is bright.



I'm not sure how this will affect my cynical/sarcastic sense of humor. I always found that to be interesting in other people. Writing about all happy stuff seems boring. Oh well...I'm sure my entire personality won't change. I know it won't. But I at least don't want to go around hating people and smothering myself in self pity about how everyone has done me wrong.

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One thing that bothered me about that book was this:

The author told a story of how his mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and given just weeks to live. They prayed every day for a miracle, and every day, his mother quoted scripture having to do with recovery and healing. And she was saved and didn't die. That was the 80's and she's alive today.



Now, I *do* believe in the power of prayer, which goes along with fate and positive thinking. In fact, I think it does no good to worry or to give up, and that positive thoughts can go a long way. I'll even go so far to say that I believe in miracles (you sexay thing (a song. Never mind. The Full Monty? anyone???).



What I didn't like about the story, and maybe this is that cynic in me again, but to me the story insinuated that the reason our loved ones have passed away is b/c we didn't pray hard enough or weren't positive enough. I immediately thought of my grandma who died from cancer in 1987. Did I not pray hard enough? Was I not positive enough? (and I didn't pray and wasn't very positive at 16. I was scared out of my mind (of death - as in, of seeing her in a dying state) for one thing...)



People are going to die some day. I want to think positive and pray that my parents or no one else I love will never have to suffer in any way, but I don't want to feel guilty if they die, although I will feel pain in other ways.


*****************************************************************************




In conclusion...I am certain that one of my future posts will be a cynical look at how stupid people are. This quest is more about how I think in my head...how when I lay in bed at night, I replace obsessive thoughts of past mistakes I have made, or past fights, or things that stressed me out in the past (deaths of pets, doing poorly in college, not making the h.s. volleyball team, etc - I've been known to obsess and think about all these things and other things, even visualizing my own funeral or the funerals of loved ones that I don't want to die, for goodness sakes), with the happiest thoughts I have, like remembering being pregnant and the baby as he has gotten older, of every happy memory I can think of. It has made my days and nights much more enjoyable.

We Are Experiencing Technicals Difficulties

Be back soon.

Pee Control...Issues much?

You know that Prince song "Pussy Control"? Funny song. My husband hates it. Anyway, this is about Pee Control...issues.



This happens just about every morning: I'm in that early morning state of drifting in and out of a light sleep. But the light sleep is very soothing...very relaxing. I am very warm under the cozy covers. I know I have to get up when the alarm goes off, but that is a whole hour away.



Then it happens. The demon pee demands to be let out. Most people would just get up and pee, right? Not me. Lemme tell you, I fight that pee all the way to the toilet.



When I first feel the urge, I totally ignore it, as if ignoring it will somehow make it evaporate right through my bladder and skin and out of my body. But the pee is a persistent little bitch. It starts to become downright painful. And I'm like FUCK I am NOT getting up yet. I'm NOT! F U Pee. F U!!! The problem is that once I'm physically up that late in the morning, there is no going back to sleep.



I'm pissed off (heh) that the pee is controlling me. IT is making me get up when I don't want to. I want to control it and I want to pee on MY terms. If that isn't having issues, I don't know what is.



Sad to say...the pee always wins. 100% of the time. Pee has a 1000-0 record. It gets to the point where I'm about to wet the bed, and then I pretty much have to get up. It is quite a relief by that point to let it out, heh.





I'm like that at work, too. I don't wait nearly as long, but if I'm in the middle of a project at work, I feel resentful that I have to get up and pee. Such an interruption. What a "waste of time", ha ha.



This is the definition of being anal, or anal retentive. You are such a control freak and so obsessive compulsive about everything, that you will not poo when you are supposed to. Instead, you hold it in and wait until a time that is perfect for you; you retain it in the anus (should be the name of a song). I do that, too (poo almost always wins that battle, too, although its record is not quite as clean as pee's. However, the revenge it later takes is quite painful, and not worth the fight). I am certain that I would be classified as being "anal", as well, in my general personality. But not about all things.



Well, gotta go pee now. I've been fighting it through this entire post.



;-)



(or is it Pussy Patrol, not Control? Hell, I can't remember, and Google won't let me Google the word "pussy". Why not? :) )

Rhetorical Questions, Holiday Cheer, and Bah! Humbug - Being Cross

It infuriates me when people flick their cigarettes out of their car when I'm driving behind them, and the burning cig comes back and hits my car. It happens all the freaking time.

It happened today. And it really pissed me off. I flicked my brights at the wench, and as they say constantly on Thomas the Tank Engine, I felt very "cross".

The anger was building, and I was cussing to myself. The more I thought of the burning cig hitting my car, the madder I got at the helplessness of the situation (what can I do about it now? She got her way with her cig and my car).

As I was feeling angry, Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" played on the radio. I had just watched "A Christmas Carol" last night and read the story last week. I realized I was fuming mad at someone I didn't know for no real good reason, right in the middle of a holiday season when I should be feeling joy towards Humankind.

Do cigarettes that hit my car really hurt me or my car? I honestly don't know, but I doubt it. I know I don't like the *idea* of a burning flying object hitting my car. Could it blow up my car somehow, lol? I know that's a silly girl thing to say, but what if a drop of gas got on my car after I filled up? What then? Could the heat of the cig hurt my paint job? Back when I had a sun roof and if I had it open, I worried about the cig flying into my car. But typically, it just hits the front of my car, but it does hit my car. I'm sure what makes me mad is that I feel like I'm being trampled on by my neighbor. The haughty taughty smoker thinks that she's so above me that she can fling her cig at my car. It's humiliating on some level. (not to mention the anonymous people who flick their cigs in our driveway. Why do people think they can throw their trash out like that? That's what it is. Trash.)

So my first question is: What is a normal response to a burning cigarette being thrown at one's car? Clearly, I was way too angry about it. In the spirit of A Christmas Carol, am I just supposed to smile and feel cheery and love my fellow driver, burning cig projectile and all? I'm not being smart ass...I really want to know! Is a normal response a feeling of mild irritation, internally, without blinking the brights, and then move on and be happy and love my fellow driver again? In other words, is the proper response just to lay low and take it?

My second question is: Why *am* I so angry these days? Before the cig incident this morning, I was mad at another driver. I was behind her waiting to turn left out of our neighborhood. There was lots of traffic b/c we live right by a high school where classes were about to start, but still, at some point, you just have to go already. This woman waited, and waited, and waited, and waited...I mean I swear she was waiting until she could see no cars anywhere.

I was getting really frustrated (cross again)...you know, have to get to daycare, have to get to work, etc. And I started cussing. What the fuck is she waiting for? And JC! (sorry JC). All of this while baby was in the car....bad. (he doesn't really notice now, but he will, and you know, he probably notices more than I realize).

She finally went, and I was right behind her. We came up to a red light. When it turned green, she just sat there. She rolled backwards a little. Ah...now I see the problem. Engine problems. Her car kept dying. Not totally her fault. And so then I felt all forgiving, right? Wrong. I said "what the fuck is she doing now?" and went around her. The truck behind me was right behind me.

So...why am I so angry? Am I just a bad person, like Scrooge? Is it the environment I was raised in? Is it the sometimes over the top angry person I live with? Am I generally unhappy with my life? Do I hate my fellow man that much? Are there little stresses just nagging at me which surface when I drive? Is it just "that time of year"?

I'd really like to know, b/c I am trying to be a better person. For my baby, for myself, for the good of all. I want to be kind, forgiving, understanding, gentle. I don't know if I'll ever get to all of that, but I cannot over-react every time little things happen. Plus, I really do wonder where all this anger is coming from. I think I have ideas, but I don't like that answer. Although it's fixable, with a little work.


I think writing it out like this is a good first step in Anger Management. I want to fix it. I want to stop my auto-response or at least have more control over it. I don't want to end up with 3 spirits visiting me, although, if that's what it takes, bring 'em on.

P.S. This is not a slam against my smoking friends. Most people I actually know who smoke are quite courteous. It's those smoking strangers who seem to be the foolios. :)

Week 6

I'm in the middle of week 6 of a 12-week challenge, and I'm really feeling the motivation. It takes a few weeks, you know? Most people, including myself, are pretty impatient. After a few days, if I am not feeling super fantastic all the time, I tend to wonder why. I know it's not enough time, but logic doesn't prevail.

I start feeling a little better at about 2 weeks, super better at 4, and now at week 6 it's an all time high. I can be in a really bad mood before I lift weights, and then mid-workout, the endorphins kick in, and I am in a chipper mood. It's a fantastic feeling, not only to be high, but to be on a natural high.

And cardio. Ah cardio. That takes a *really* long time for me to start to enjoy. 5 weeks to be exact. I am now finally really into it and I look forward to it. I am doing Turbo Jam dvd's. At first, I drug my butt through it and did the bare minimum. I wondered if I'd ever be able to make it through. Now, I am using weighted gloves and bouncing around as much as the bounciest girls on the video do, and giving it as much gusto. I'm like a little old cheerleader, heh. It still kills me...but I get a rush. I generally feel great afterwards.

My overall energy levels are very high, and I love that. I get so much done in this state of mind. Around 8 pm, I still get tired, and when it's bed time, I crash. But I sleep very well, unless it's interrupted by the various living things in my house that will interrupt sleep.

Also, my self-esteem is higher. I can walk with pride, limp and all (not everyone knows that story. A later post). It's hard to describe the feeling you get when you take care of yourself. It just changes you. I even notice I photograph better. I think it's all the water that helps my skin.

None of this is news to me. I've done several challenges before, but this is my first real breakthrough challenge since having baby in 2006.

I know I'm not going to miss a workout now. I've been perfect so far, and each day I remember that, and I don't want to mess up the perfection by missing a workout. Now, if something legit comes up...baby starts puking or a tree falls on our house...sure, I'll miss a workout. But I've yet to have a valid reason like that yet.

Just Sunday, the thought crossed my mind to skip my ubwo. I thought...I'll just do it Monday. I'll double up on cardio and ubwo. That's where the important decision has to be made, right then and there, and I decided to work out on Sunday. When I start procrastinating and making stupid excuses, I fail. There was no reason not to work out Sunday other than pure laziness in the guise of "I have other things to do". I knew that, and so I did not go off plan. I've made it a priority.

Eating is not so bad. Could be better. I'm working on it. Tonight though, I'm having a beer. :)

I hope I don' t get sick this year. That happened the first year I did this workout/eating right program - I didn't get sick all winter. Not even a cold. That was a first for me, b/c I almost always get several colds a winter.

Not getting sick may be too much to ask with little baby in daycare and the exposure I get to all these little kid germs. However, I think this week I had a cold, and didn't even know it. I realized I was sniffing a bit and sneezing, too, and felt something something in the back of my throat, but it's almost like an afterthought or a side note instead of ruling me. My body becomes very powerful when it's in tip top shape.

Body Part Progress Report:

Face - looks thinner. My cheek bones are showing nicely (not too thin). It's pretty easy to slim down my face though.

Shoulders - shaping up nicely and getting definition.

Arms - ditto shoulders for arms. I'm liking my biceps, although they are long and will not get huge. My forearms don't look half bad either for being so scrawny.

Back - I have not looked at my back lately. I need to.

Chest above boobage - shaping up nicely.

Boobage - Not shrinking too badly. Yet.

Stomach/Abs - Upper abs are looking very nice. Obliques are not bad either. The little pooch around my belly button is being stubborn. It's my "baby" pooch. It does not upset me at all. I'm so happy I had a baby. I will be very patient with this area of my body. Maybe it will never go away. I did not get stretch marks. In so many ways, I am very lucky.

Butt - Slimming down...need to slim down quite a bit more. I like the junk...but it's hard to get my pants to fit right. Can't quite get into 4's yet (I'm in a 6 mostly). Also, with my junk comes cellulite, and we can't have that.

Thighs - Looking not half bad. Getting some good quad definition and cellulite is melting away.

Calves - well..these always shrink down to little sticks when I work out. I know my calves are stronger, but doubt they will build up a whole lot. That's okay.


Overall, I am feeling much stronger in every exercise and can lift more and more. All my measurements have gone down.

However, my scale weight has not gone down much at all. I know to not pay attention to the scale. I've not weighed myself much lately. But, I've been trained by society to really dig really low numbers in weight on myself. I think I'm #132 now. I'd like to be #125, but I do not want to sacrifice muscle for it. I may never get to my #125 pre-pregnancy weight. That's okay, as long as I feel good.

I have not taken my body fat measurements. I need to.

My only slight concern is that I seem to have pulled something in my chest or my back. I can't tell which...it's deep inside. Hard to explain, but when I pick up baby, for instance, I feel it. Like a pain deep inside...feels like back pain to me. I did lift an awful lot (for me) on my back on Sunday. Then doing those bench pullovers put you in an awkward position where it's easy to do it wrong. To save time, I did not take a break between 1 arm dumbell row sets, since you switch arms anyway. Maybe I needed the rest.

Also...I can really feel it in my joints when I do cardio. Man...I'm getting old. My doctor recommended something that lubricates joints (due to my bum arthritic hip). I didn't buy it b/c it was too expensive. I may need to look into it now.

Please Wait To Be Seated

My husband and I went out to eat last weekend. Another fun restaurant experience.

We got there early. We were seated in a row of 2-seater booths, fairly close to the hostess area. As the evening progressed, more people filled the waiting area, until it was pretty full with people waiting for a table. This was a little Italian place, on the informal side. Nothing super fancy.

One woman in waiting decides that she is not going to wait in the designated waiting area. Oh no. Instead, she goes not just past the "wait to be seated" sign, not just into the restaurant proper, but directly beside our booth. There was a wall across from our table, across the very narrow aisle, that she was leaning on, arms folded, and she was no more than 2 feet away from us, just lurching over us like a vulture.

I mean, she could hear every word of our conversation. I'm telling you, she was RIGHT THERE. Not that our conversation was all that intriguing or anything, so I decided to make it so:

Me: "So, have you gotten laid lately?"
Hubby (who quickly follows suit): "Um, no, I haven't. Damn wife is frigid. Good thing I have you."
"Yeah, but I'm so sore all the time"
"I know. I've been told I'm too big before"
"Too big? Now that's an understatement".
"Are you complaining?"
"Oh no! I love them big, fat and juicy. The bigger the better. We just have to practice more"
etc., etc.

She just stood there. Continued to stand. And when we said the raunchiest stuff, she would look directly at us, like at our faces. As if we were in *her* space.

I even went so far as to say, "Gee...it's so nice to be able to get out for once and have adult conversation, one on one, in private, where no one can hear us". She still didn't leave until she got a table.

We said later that we should have just sarcastically asked her if she'd like to join us.

I know I'm a bit uptight with my personal space, but geez. If our table had bordered the waiting area, it would not have been her fault. But she was clearly out of bounds.

I always wonder what is running through people's minds when they act like idiots, and I wonder why they are not more like me (perfect - heh). I would feel very self-conscious hovering over someone's table like that. Why didn't she? Heck, maybe our fake conversation made it irresistible for her to leave.

At least hubby and I had a good test of our improvisational skills.


Edit: I just realized that my last post and this post are complaints about how people annoy me, ha ha. I see a theme here. My next post should be something more cheerful and positive. I'll work on it. I think I do have some upbeat things to report, but they are just not as interesting. :)

Feel Good, Inc.

Now, *this* is how I remember feeling on my first couple of BFL challenges. I've got that natural high, and I have lots of energy. You wouldn't believe how much I got done this weekend. No need for caffeine.

However, this doesn't mean by 9 pm I am not ready to crash, b/c I totally am. 9 p.m.! But, I am sleeping very well these days. Better than a baby.

Also, I feel extremely positive. Life is always going to suck at times, but I find myself handling stress very well, and taking everything very lightly, esp the small stuff that annoys me, the stuff that *should* be taken lightly. When not in a healthy state of mind, I tend to blow the smallest things out of proportion. Now though, I'm feeling all sane and logical and stuff.

Just today, I had a test of the ol' temper. I went to get my flu shot. There was a long ass line. That alone did not bother me. I brought a book just in case there was such a situation. When I'm at my worst, I'd freak out (internally) and worry and fret about the long line. Today, I felt calm and just took it. Like a man. :)

But on to the better story. Long ass line, right? There's a lady behind me, b/c that's how lines work. As the line progresses, she ends up right beside me. And she walks beside me for several minutes.

Now I'm thinking, wtf is this lady doing? But I basically ignore her, although I think, "surely the heck she is not trying to cut??". She keeps looking around to the front of the line, as if she can somehow see exactly what is going on and as if this knowledge will somehow speed things along.

Next thing I know, she is next to the lady in *front* of me! Okay, so old me would have been furious and would have said something. New me, well, I did feel that little fire brew inside me, like, "it's not fair!!! This cannot happen!" But here's the thing: who fucking cares. If she needs a flu shot that fucking bad, let her cut all the way to the front. What difference does it really make to me?

However, I could not resist turning around and talking to the lady behind me about it. I calmly said pretty much what I said above, without the F bombs. Then the lady in front of me turned around and looked at me like "WTF?" regarding cutter lady beside her now. I look at her like "dunno", and I say in a normal voice: "I guess she *really* needs her flu shot", at which point cutter lady looks at me and gets back behind lady in front of me (but still cutting in front of me!).

I was annoyed, but remained calm, and decided, as I said, that this was too small of a battle to give my time, too. (this all is VERY unlike my usual, uptight, personality. Cutting was always a pet peeve of mind. I felt it a huge injustice, ha ha).

And lemme tell ya, there's a good ending to this story. Poetic justice. Before getting the shot, we had to fill out paperwork. I ended up getting my shot first. BWHAHAHAHA! So many moral lessons that could be quoted here. You get the drift. I truly believe that what comes around goes around. In my mind, I thought, "yeah baby. Take that beeyotch". But said nothing and reacted not at all. I didn't need to.

Now...we'll see if all this calmness will help my road rage. I'm really working on that, and it's 100% b/c of baby. Don't worry, I do not own a gun. But I am daily pushed by the really, really dumb drivers around here. I have to totally put my mind outside of my body and ignore all the "injustices" on the road, while at the same time paying attention to the actual vehicles around me as one needs to do when you are driving. It's a whole other dimension.

Got my workouts in today and yesterday, and eating squeaky clean. Man, I feel good.

My gosh, you work out?

Okay...I'm actually going to talk fitness. I really do work out and am interested in fitness, not just all the other crap I write about.



I'm in my fifth Body for Life challenge. It's just the first week, I tend to not like to talk about things when I first embark on them for fear of failure. Not because I think it will jinx it if I tell people, well, partly. But mostly b/c if I fail than it's like I was talking out my ass.



Since having baby, I've finished 2 challenges. The first one went pretty well. The second was sort of half-assed. I skipped workouts and ate what I wanted. It wasn't horrible eating, but far from good. Plus, I drank way too much booze.



Even the first challenge since baby was so-so b/c I was trying to figure stuff out, and I was only doing 3 sets of 12 in my weights. "Okay" results, but man, that BFL way really works for me.



In both challenges since baby, I didn't feel "it", you know? I was longing for the way I felt on my first challenge, that I Want To Do This Every Day, feeling. I'm glad to say I'm feeling it now. There are some concrete reasons for that, some of which I mention below. The point is, the feeling is there, and I'm feeling strong. Now to practice patience (on seeing results). I want to be presentable at the Arnold Expo.

I feel sooo good when I get all my water in, eat right, and exercise daily (duh - but the feeling is an amazing one). I have returned to the traditional 12, 10, 8, 6, 12, 12 lifting plan, which as I said, worked very well for me.

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The basic work out plan:

5 a.m. every day

Sunday: Rotate LBWO/UBWO
Monday: 20 minute Turbo Jam cardio
Tuesday: Rotate UBWO/LBWO
Wednesday: 20 minute Turbo Jam cardio
Thursday: Turbo Jam Body Sculpt (weight + cardio for 45 min)
Friday: 20 minute Turbo Jam cardio
Saturday: Free Day

Baby often has a different agenda, so I have created a Plan B so I am less likely to back out or screw this up:
PLAN B: 7 p.m. while hubby gives baby bath instead of 5 a.m. OR lunchtime if 20 min cardio.
Trading workout for different days depending on what events transpire that day.


It is not completely standard BFL, but I have to mix it up to keep it interesting. If the Turbo Jam stuff doesn't show good results, I will switch back to standard HIIT. I was just so bored with that. Turbo Jam does incorporate some HIIT though, but not exactly the same.

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Menu for this week:

M1 - Cream of wheat with protein powder and skim milk + a banana sometimes
M2 - Nutrition/Protein Shake
M3 - Baked potato with: low sod. chicken broth (2 tsp), lf cottage cheese, chicken breast, broccoli, & salsa
M4 - Slice of LF cheese + an apple
M5 - Dinner: either chicken noodle soup or mexipasta skillet (all efl approved, lf, low salt, ww pasta, etc.)
M6 - EFL pumpkin pie (contains protein powder)

Plus 80 oz of water a day; sometimes skim milk as a sub (at most 16-24 oz a day) but no other beverages (no soda, coffee, etc).

Alcohol rule: I love to drink. I just do. It's easier not to when I'm working out really hard. However, I like something to look forward to. I will still have my cocktail on Saturdays. Friday night, I get a glass of wine with dinner, IF I am perfect the rest of the week. Not a 100% clean plan, but it works for me. The alternative is drinking every day.

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There you go....I've written out my exercise and M1-M6 - BORING. Ha ha. It's interesting to me if I'm actually doing it.

I'm not posting any pics until after my challenge is complete, unless my team requires it. I don't like looking at my week 0 pic for 12 weeks. It does not motivate me.

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It's day 4, and I've been perfect in every sense of the word. I feel I will continue to be, unless I get hit by a Mack truck.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

On a side note: My husband I recently tried another in vitro round, which sadly, did not work. I never thought it was possible to mourn a period. It's just so sad to see it all come out.

Sorry that's gross, I know. But it does pain me, and not physically. Normally, one doesn't give a second thought to it other than it being a nuisance. Now I consider it the life force behind the lives that didn't happen - gone, drained.

I keep worrying that I really was pregnant, that they were wrong, and now I screwed up by stopping the meds. But I'm sure that's not the case. There was only a 10% chance it would work this time.

I really appreciate the blessing I do have. There are many.

Full Circle

I was starting to re-read my previous entry b/c I haven't been back here in a while. Geesh...I can't believe I had the nerve to write some of that crap. Oh well. Gotta accept who I am.

But it's funny, as I am writing something, I think it's the greatest thing ever (sometimes). I re-read it a month later, and I think, gawd, what a freaking dumb ass. It's like hearing your voice on a tape recorder; it makes you flinch a little. ( Do they still make tape recorders btw? Or cassette tapes for that matter?) Anyway, that's why I delete my blogs from time to time. Part of the reason.

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Back to the topic at hand. I had an interesting, "first". A first for a mother, something I'm thinking most moms experience. At least I hope so for the sake of my sanity (explained more at the end of this).

My dad likes to rehash old stories into the ground. What dad doesn't do that? Many of his stories involve me, being that I'm an only child. Some of them are downright humiliating, like the story of how when I was six, I lost control of my hippee flower-laden banana-seat bicycle (a hand-me-down) going down a steep hill and a curve, and totally wiped out. My dad was behind me on his bike. He laughs about it to this day. It's not funny! :)

Another story involves making me feel guilty for something I did to my dad when I was 3 or 4 years old. My grandma babysat me daily while Mom worked and Dad was in school. I was really close to this grandma, all the way until when she died when I was 16 years old. [She was only 56 (breast cancer).]

Dad came to pick me up one day, and I did not want to go with him. I started crying. I was basically a good kid, so I did not throw an all out hissy fit, I don't think. But I did cry, and I probably whined that I wanted to stay with Grandma.

Well, I hurt my dad's feelings. He clammed up, seemed mad, and went storming back to his car. Actually, I was in my grandma's room on the bed crying, so I didn't see him leave. My grandma, who by all accounts was genuinely a good person through and through, came to me and said, "I think you hurt your daddy's feelings, Karla. He just left. You better go and chase him down before he leaves." (btw, my dad at the time was all of 25 years old.)

I immediately felt bad and guilty (as a 3 year old!) , and didn't like the idea of my dad abandoning me there after all, and so I ran after my dad. I caught him in time, but he would not talk to me all the way home.

He eventually forgave me, probably that day, I don't really remember, but he brings it up all the damn time ever since then. I felt guilty and sad about it for years. It was only VERY recently after some self-discovery that I can forgive myself for this atrocity because I was ONLY THREE (OR MAYBE FOUR) YEARS OLD!!!! I KNEW NOT WHAT I DID! C'MON!

Besides, I think my dad only brings it up all the time b/c he still must need reassurance that I love him. Mind you, he doesn't bring it up in a hateful tone. It's just a "remember that one time..." story. In fact, I think *he* might feel bad for reacting to me the way he did when I was 3. HE was the adult.

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WHICH BRINGS ME FULL CIRCLE:

My 14 mo. old son is pretty attached to me, although I would not describe him as overly attached. He doesn't cling to me all the time. He is generally happy to see me. He is very lovable and likes to hug and cuddle and kiss, IF he feels like it. If he's busy playing or whatnot, he's not going to hug for very long. And that is perfectly okay.

Particularly, if he hasn't seen me for a while, he will run up to me, jump up and down intermittently on each foot (running in place sort of), and raise his arms for me to pick him up. If I were to try to leave without him in that situation, he'd be very upset. I don't want him to be too attached, and he rarely gets that crazy about me picking him up. Only the first time after not seeing me all day will he *sometimes* do that. And I must admit, it tugs at my heartstrings just a bit that he is so happy to see me.

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My husband usually picks him up from daycare. The other day, I picked him from daycare.

So I go inside to get him....and....

He doesn't want to leave with me. Not at all.

He just clings to the caregiver like I'm the devil or something. When I finally pulled him off of her, he was crying a lot in his "NO! I don't want that" way, and he was putting his arms out for her to take him back from me. He was not screaming bloody murder or anything, and once we were walking out to the car, he seemed fine. But I gotta tell ya, I was a little heartbroken.

I did not react like my dad when he was 25 (had I been 25, I may have done the same thing; as it is, I'm 37). I acted completely normal on the outside. I didn't force myself on him, other than having to carry him to my car. I mean, I didn't smother him in hugs or kisses. I simply talked to him in normal tones and pointed things out to him and sang to him as we drove. The usual as far as outside appearances. But inside, I was hurting.

It's not HIS fault. Of course not. And it's not personal. I know all this. It hurt me just the same. Or rather, I felt sad. I know it's not logical or right to feel this way, but I felt it nonetheless.

I know kids do this and their moods change daily, hourly, by the minute. I just did NOT expect it. It was so all of a sudden! He was so happy to see me just the day before!

I dwell on things...and I started to wonder later if I was a bad mom. I wondered if when I went to get him out of his crib the next morning, he would start screaming and not want me.

Of course, he didn't. And since then, things have been back to normal, although I have not had to pick him up lately. I pick him up today though, so we'll see how it goes.

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Now I know exactly how my dad felt. It's a little stab in the heart. A little betrayal. It's not the little guy's fault. But man, if your baby doesn't want you, at least the first time, it's a bit of a shock. I do feel a sort of closure with regards to that story with my dad though, and closer to my dad because of it. An "Ah! So *that's* what he meant" feeling, as happens so often to us as we grow up and re-live our parents' lives.

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You know, now a few days later, I learned something from this. And that is, I cannot place all my value on any one person, not even my darling son.

I've overcome most of my demons from the past, all my fucked up ways of thinking. One of my bad habits though was totally relying on someone to love me. If that person didn't love me, I was not a complete person. I couldn't function.

First it was my parents. And then my husband. Ah...my poor husband and the burden I put on him. No one can make someone else completely happy. That person really has to be happy with himself/herself first. It took me years to realize this. And I think I finally did/do get it with regards to my husband.

I think the demon resurfaced though with my son. Unknowingly, I think I was a little too in love with the little guy and I was putting ALL my love and self-worth into him. I knew, or thought, his love for now was unconditional. I knew I could always rely on him to love me and that I would always be a good mom. Not like a husband (sorry husband)...who argues with you and criticizes you and is emotional or emotionally unavailable from time to time (Read: they are HUMAN).

The pain I felt that day made me realize that I was wrong. I should NOT feel betrayed. I SHOULD be more logical about it. Just b/c baby is having an off day does not mean he doesn't love me. And so what...if he has days he doesn't love me...(or thinks he doesn't), it does not mean I am a bad person or a bad mom. And I am still loved. Why is it so hard for people to accept this, people that are like me? I want to say, "ME? No, I'm not really loved. Couldn't be.", but I totally am. :)

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This was every reaction to how I was feeling that day. I've written it all. I kept 95% of it inside me. It wasn't like I went berserk that day.

I did try to share with hubby. He does not understand, and was getting sort of mad at me. He kept saying pretty harshly: "That's just not LOGICAL! How do you think baby feels??? You cannot react this way!" (again, I was very calm when I told him this and not hysterical, although a bit hurt and sad). When I said all I wanted was empathy, he replied in a very, again harsh, and sarcastic tone: "Well, now you know how *I* feel all the time. How's THAT for your empathy?". [I love him, but sometimes he is not very nice. I cannot talk to him about how I am feeling sometimes, which makes me sad in a way.]

So...here I am. A new lesson in motherhood. Not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but definitely an interesting and very new feeling.

Dirty Movies (and added later: strip clubs)

My problem is this: I just can't relax about things.

Over the years, I've become way more relaxed than I used to be. However, I have accepted the fact that I am me, and I will never be totally relaxed about stuff. I analyze, I wonder, I can't just take it as it is.

Take porn for instance. My...isn't it easy access these days? I used to have to sneak and look at my dad's mags. If I was lucky, I'd get my hands on a videotape. But you know, it was always very risky. Should my parents come home mid-viewing, I'd have to stop the tape, rewind it, put it back in the box, and back in it's hiding place. That's lots of work. Now, aren't we lucky that all we have to do is click the little x at the top of the screen if someone walks in? Thank God for pop-up blockers, too. (have you ever tried to close out of a site and then a thousand other naked body sites pop up! Geez!)

Back then, and I'm talking high school, I didn't feel much guilt about viewing porn, the little that I saw. I was a virgin until I was 19, and I was soooo curious about the whole thing. I remember that I could not BELIEVE that "it" went ALL THE WAY IN THERE! (I had previously thought just the tip did). I still use material from the very first porn I saw. It's funny how that burns on your brain like that, the first porn you see. Back then, even a slight hint of soft porn would turn me on. Funny how it usually doesn't do much for me now.

These days, most of the curiosity is gone, b/c you know, I've done a lot of it, heh. Done it, seen it, felt it, etc. Everyone is different I'm sure, but for me, I have to be in a certain mood to want to look at porn. It's not often. I'd say maybe on average once a month I'll get on the computer and look for stuff. It's once in a rare and dirty mood. But once I find it and I'm done with it, so to speak, I'm not in the mood for a good while. And mind you, all I look at are the free clips which are like 10 seconds of dirtiness that I have to watch over and over again, ha ha.

I had one of these moods the other day. Now, here are some reasons I will never be able to fully enjoy porn, and so probably wouldn't want to view it every day:

1) There's the guilt....the overall feeling that it isn't right, that it's over the top dirty, filthy even, and that, I don't know, it's a sin? Very unholy, it seems. I don't feel that way when I interact, even in the dirtiest way, with my husband. But porn is different.

2) Related to #1: So while I'm watching it I get lost in the moment and I'm turned on and think OOH YEAH that is so hot and I get caught up in the fantasy, etc., etc. But when it's all said and done, I can't get past the human element of it.

I mean, these are actual people fucking on camera for everyone to see. What's wrong with these people? What happened to them in their youth to make them want to show their vagina close up with a big huge dick in it, and not once, but over and over with many different dicks?

We were all babies once, and so were they. They are someone's baby. Their mommy & daddy would be so proud. What happened to them?

I try to tell myself that these are just women who really enjoy fucking and are dirty about it and get off on it and want people to see it and want to make some cash. Maybe that's the case with some of them. Maybe a lot of them. I've read articles on Jenna Jamison and I am convinced that she really loves her profession and has power and control over her situation (although she does have a fucked up past, as I recall).

But I can't help but feel the exploitation of the other women, even the ones who voluntarily do it, which I guess is almost all of them. I guess they want to...but something doesn't seem right...that they are putting themselves out like that...that they are screwing so many men and so many of us are paying to watch them get screwed.

And I'm sorry...but every once in a while, it looks like they are NOT enjoying it. Esp the ass fucking ones by gigantico penises. The women start screaming in pain trying to pass it off as pleasure, but I can tell they are hurting. I don't like those type. They do nothing for me and I in fact worry about it.

A common scenario I keep running into is one like this: Guy With Huge Dick is making a living going around enticing very young women to fuck him on camera for the first time. It starts out with a little conversation "you're shy, aren't you?". "(giggle), yes!" Then her clothes come off, then he's fingering her. "ooohh...you're so tight and wet" then she's sucking him, then he's fucking her. And there's clip after clip after clip of same guy saying the same thing and screwing all these women. Ewww...what a creep.

Then I worry about the women....are they really allowing themselves to be exploited on camera like that? Probably not..it's probably all an act and they've probably done it many times before and it can't be their first time. Who knows.

As far as the men involved in porn...well...I don't know. Even the cute ones, which are rare, btw, seem creepy to me. I have to not think about the actual people when I want to get turned on. But then when I'm done being turned on, I always feel a little guilty about the whole thing.

Yep...I know. I'm doing this all wrong. I'm not supposed to put a face and a personality behind the porn. I'm not supposed to think so hard about it. It's just a fun way to entertain yourself...it's a turn on, humans like to be turned on and to watch...there's nothing wrong with nakedness and penises and vaginas...and these people do it of their own free will (obviously...there are exceptions and obviously if it's forced then it's wrong, no doubt about it). And some people make lots of money from it and maybe they really do enjoy it.

But...why does it bother me so much? Why do I make it so personal? Am I wound too tight? Or is porn really morally wrong?

I should add to that last question by saying that I do NOT think it should be illegal or anything like that. I know there is a market for it and people like it, both the people in the profession and the people who pay to watch it...just like gambling and drinking and strip bars...not the greatest or proudest of moments for people but it's part of our culture that I don't think should be governmentally controlled. If grown people want to be pervs and addicts, I think it's mostly their pregoative as long as they don't hurt anyone or commit crimes b/c of their vice.

No, I'm trying to sort out my own feelings of morality on the subject, whether I think it's right for me. I sincerely worry to a degree about these women and what they are subjecting themselves to. If I knew 100% sure they liked what they did and wanted me to watch, I think I'd enjoy it more. Guess I better watch more Jenna Jamison.

(and now I wonder....does the possible exploitation, even the facade of it, turn me on, more so than someone who is willingly and lovingly doing it, like Jenna? And is *that* what makes me feel so bad afterwards, knowing that I'm turned on by exploitation?)

Hell...maybe I'm the only woman in the whole world who gives porn this much thought. Who knows. Sometimes I wish I was a guy and I could just jerk off to some tits on the computer screen and quickly forget about the whole thing afterwards like you're supposed to do.

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(I'm adding this on after reading Eileen's comment. My comment back to her turned into another post all on its own.)

So, I have briefly played with the idea of making money off of sex. Briefly. Very briefly. I watched one of those real sex shows you were talking about Eileen, and this couple broadcast their sexual activity on a web cam and people had to pay to see it. According to them, they were able to quit their day jobs and they made more than 50k a year from it, or something like that.
Being that I don't love my current job, this made me think about it. Let me just say that this couple was not attractive. Not to be mean, but they just weren't. They weren't ugly, but I wouldn't pay to watch them.

So M & I aren't bad looking or at least we're in shape, and I think we're damn good at sex, and I was thinking, heck, we could make lots of money from this. We should totally do it!
But damn, there are so many reasons NOT to. Okay, yeah, parents, family, friends...yeah...some things are just private. And now I have a son, so forget about it.
Plus, I've never been one for whoring myself out, in any fashion. It was bad enough when I felt used by a few pricks I was with in college. Back then I thought, hell, I should charge for this and I'd make some money from it at least, if these pricks don't want an actual relationship. But...of course I couldn't for all the reasons you can guess, on top if it being illegal.

I more seriously toyed with the idea of working in a strip club when I was in college. I was poor then, and I thought, what an easy way to make money. But those same issues popped up: what if my dad stopped by that strip bar. Ugh! Also, how would it make me feel about myself? Do I want these dirty old men gawking at me?

And that's the other thing...when I had the strip bar fantasies, I envisioned myself dancing Demi Moore style: Choreographed and costumed and really cool, and dancing for attractive middle to upper class men who had lots of tips for a young college girl like me. The reality of it would be more like this: I'd rub up and down against a pole a little bit in just a g-string, probably drunk off my ass, while disgusting, drunk old fat bald losers stared at my tits and crotch. Yuck. Or...groups of college frat guys would make a mockery of me and objectify me. Which of course, I'd be objectifying myself maybe.

I don't know...I don't think I had quite the self-esteem to be a stripper. I can see the potential for a lot of power in that situation. The women are really exploiting the men. It's easy money. The men are so sex crazed and stupid. The women are really good at making the men believe that they are so into them...that the show is for them and them alone. But they really just want their money. It's not personal. So they shake their ass a little and rub their crotch in your face, and they make lots of money just from doing that.

In any case...it didn't fit my personality. I could never do something like that myself, although I admire some women that can. I pity others.

It's hard for me to understand where lines should be drawn. Men like to look at naked women. There is a demand. Women supply that demand. Actually, the supply is low...*most* women are not getting naked for men in public (or at all? Heh). That is why strip clubs can charge so damn much for everything b/c that's about all the supply these high demand men are getting. So they pay to see the naked bodies, and/or to have the naked bodies rub and gyrate on them (lap dance).

But there is also a demand for sex, too, and worry free, no strings attached sex. There's a small supply of that. It goes from being naked, to rubbing crotches and tits on men, to all out fucking (prostitution). Where is the line?

And don't fool yourself into believing that there isn't a lot of rubbing going on in strip clubs. I have guy friends who have told me stories about lap dances. One guy asked the stripper in a lap dance what all he could do, and she said he could do anything but penetration with fingers or otherwise. So...he French kissed her during the lap dance, sucked her nipples, and she mouthed his cock through his pants! And this was not a slimy guy either, but a married, upper middle class, professional man!

Why he'd want to kiss on a skanky stripper who must do that all day with various men, I don't know, but I somehow felt offended or irritated by the whole thing, as in, what if they do that to my husband in his infrequent visits? Should it bother me? It's not like he's going to love these women or leave me for them. And they are not going to start calling my house either b/c it's not an affair, but a business. But still, I don't want other women's lips on my man's crotch! I just don't!

I went to strip clubs in New Orleans, and got a lap dance. Of course, I'm a woman so that might make things a little different, not sure, but by the end of the evening, the girl I got a lap dance from wanted to take me to the VIP room where she promised to take my shirt off and make out with me! For $200! Isn't that sort of prostitution? Does she do that with men, too?

Heh...and I believed she really liked me, and me alone, like we had a connection. She was really good..I was totally duped. And totally drunk. Thank goodness my more sober husband did not pay the 200 bucks. We went back to the hotel and, well, let's just say we had our own VIP room going on. For free.

BTW Eileen - that Real Sex show? I'd rather not see most of the people on that show have real sex. Which makes me think I must want to watch fake sex...actors in porn with nice bodies. Real people sex is just not pretty sometimes. :)