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.

================================================

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.

============================================================

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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. :)

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

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. :)

I Have A Spasm

This is going to be the weirdest post ever.

Okay, so I get these spasms in my muscles. Twitches if you will.

I've heard other people talk about this, particularly people who work out. So, I know it's not just me.

The thing is, I am and always have been completely obsessed with them. If you didn't think I was weird before, brace yourself.

It's not from working out either. I've had them since I was a wee child. And I've always been obsessed with them.

I used to think, as a wee child, that it was a "pulse" of some sort, like blood trapped in my capillaries or something. I have since been educated that it is muscle. I still joke with my husband saying "it's blood! It's a pulse gone awry!", so he will be happy to know that I am finally admitting that it's muscle.

In case you have no idea what I'm talking about...you know how sometimes when you are tired you get that twitch in you eye? It's like that, except I get them all over my body at various times. Here are all the places I have gotten twitches/spasms (never at the same time, mind you):

1) Eye lid (upper and lower, either together or separate)
2) Lip (upper and lower)
3) Nose in various parts
4) Temple ( get this a lot - right above temple actually)
5) Various parts of my scalp
6) Neck (very common)
7) Stomach
8) Various parts of arms and legs
9) Clitoris (not kidding - I like those)
10) Other parts of the private region
11) Back
12) And the best twitches of all - the ones that originate somewhere else, but then cause an appendage to twitch - like it originates somewhere in my forearm causing a finger to twitch. Or in my foot causing a toe to twitch. It causes the appendage to move in a way that you could never move it manually or on purpose, and it's realllly weird....oooohhhh!

How I am obsessed (if you couldn't tell already):

A) I think part of the reason I'm obsessed is that I am so damn aware of them. They cannot be ignored. When I ask others about it, they are like, 'I dunno, maybe I get them, not sure'. I know where I get them and when.

B) Likewise, when I have them, I can barely function. I have to stop what I'm doing and look at them. I alternate between looking at them, touching them, and looking at them in the mirror. Sometimes, like if I have one in my leg, I like to lay down and put an object on the spasm and watch *it* move, like a book, pencil, or a coaster or something.

The best, and weirdest thing to do is to take a piece of chewed gum, stick it on the spasm, and then stick a toothpick in the gum and watch the toothpick move. It's really creepy. These are best for those subtle, really deep spasms that you can feel happening within the muscle, but can't feel with your hands and you can't see. The toothpick/gum combo reveals all.

C) I also feel a compulsion to make others feel it or see it, but this is a privilege only people really close to me get to share (I don't make public announcements regarding my weirdness. Well, I guess this is one of sorts, but the audience is small). When I was younger, it was my best friend forced to look at or feel all my spasms (not the genitalia ones).

My parents also have had their fair share of being forced to look at them, to the point where they ignore me when I request they look. My mom ended up exclaiming "go to the doctor then!", so I quit showing her.

Now, my darling husband gets spasm duty, and he almost always obliges. He's very good that way. I get to look at and feel his occasional spasms, too. His nose is the place his spasms like to go. We can even kickstart it if it stops by flicking his nose with my fingers. Then it really gets mad and twitches like crazy.

My spasms do have a habit of stopping once I get someone to look at it. So if I want it to stop, I ask Matt to look at it. I love it when he catches it in action though. It's total validation of what I have to suffer through. I always say, "How am I supposed to function while I have this spasm going on"? Another common thing to say in my house: when I stop mid-conversation and stare at my arm, for example, I need only say "spasm" and Matt knows what I'm doing. In fact, he says it for me much of the time.


You can imagine my delight when I was pregnant. Those were the wet dreams of spasms. They weren't true spasms in that it was not my muscles moving, but it felt almost exactly the same, except much better. I'm talking about baby moving. First the kicking, then the rolling around and out and out moving from one side to the other. I also did the thing where I put an object on my belly to watch it move, mostly the remote control. And my baby was game, too - what a mover he was. I had my hands on my belly all the time to feel the moving and bumping and twitching, and at work, I spent half my time staring at or feeling my belly. It made it very difficult to drive b/c I wanted to feel it then, too, as I do all my spasms.

I probably need more vitamins. Or therapy.

The spasm I have today is in my left thigh. Actually, it rotates between my thigh and left calf. It's intriguing. Okay, time to feel the spasm again. Gotta go.

(and people who wonder in what way I was a nerd in high school, here ya go!)

How's About a Little T&A???

Tits and Ass. I really like having them. When I follow a regimented work-out program, I get nice, flat, toned abs. Very nice. I like that. But my bootay and boobays disappear.

Lots of people have that issue.

I'm not being so regimented right now...although I'm at least doing *something*. So I'm not fat (c'mon with the name calling...I know who you are..bring on the SB...but wait..it's not true...)...but my belly is not flat. You can't see def. I'm in fact slightly pudgy in the abs right now (how ya like me now?). I got a little muffin top. Just a little one, well, depending on how tight my pants are. A Mini-Muffin Top. If I slouch a certain way, which I am apt to do, I look a little pregnant. But I'm not.

The abs aren't horrible. Well, really, there are no abs. Just belly fat. I've seen worse, but it's nothing I'd show off right now. Heck no. Not bikini worthy at the moment.

HOWEVA...I've got a nice tushy and pretty good boobies right now. A "figure", if you will. I like that.

So which do I want? What will I sacrifice?

I think it's going to come down to it being more than just how I look. How do I feel? It's going to come down to that. Am I healthy?

So, how do I feel? I could feel better. I'm relying on caffeine and other nifty beverages just a tad too much. When I am at my best, fitness-wise, I don't need that stuff at all. I think I feel better without my tits and ass. I'm just a little too tired and I don't quite have all the confidence I could possibly have. I've been way worse than this, but if I have to choose...the tits and ass are going to have to go on vacation for a while.

Damn it. I see work involved here.

It Finally Has Hit The Fan

Well, yesterday when I got home after work, I encountered a series of catastrophes.

I planned on doing my cardio workout right after work since I could not do it in the morning. But the minute I walked in the house, I smelled shit. Hubby was outside when I got home, and he came in with me, and asked, "WHAT IS THAT SMELL??". Dog shit? Cat shit? Shit on the dog from her rolling in random duck or deer shit? And I mean, the ENTIRE house REEKED in epic proportions. It was like someone died and was buried under the house (I would imagine). If I had been pregnant, I would have immediately hurled. I was gagging pretty badly as it was. It was a horrible, indescribable smell.

A short inspection through the house led us to her dog cage, where she had explosive diarrhea all over the cage. Oh. My. God. Disgusting. So the next hour or so was spent cleaning her and the cage and the carpet up. Just what I wanted to do right after work. No, I didn't want to play with my son or get my workout out of the way. I wanted to clean dog shit up. And runny gross shit, too. I really want to get rid of the dog now b/c she is nothing but a pain in the ass. We just don't give her the attention she deserves, and I don't want to deal with her, frankly. Never thought I'd say that, but a baby changes everything.

Lesson of the day: Don't feed your dog the leftover bone from your t-bone steak. I think that's what made her sick. I found a huge chunk of the bone within the shit. I also gave her a little bit of my enchilada, and there were a bunch of olives in the shit, too. So one of the two, or a combo of the two, since she will eat as much people food as you give her, was the culprit.

We had been doing so good not giving her people food. But then after baby, we started feeling guilty for not giving her as much attention, so I think we started giving her scraps b/c subconsciously that made us feel better. Or maybe consciously. Whatever. No more though.

At least she went in her cage. Only a little bit of it, relatively speaking, got on the carpet. I'm actually surprised she picked her cage, since dogs don't usually do that - they don't choose to poop in their "haven" (and the cage was open so she had free reign of the house).

Oh, and then after all that, the baby had a massive out of diaper poop experience that I had to deal with by myself while Hubby was finishing off the dog doo mess. Not diarrhea, but all over the place poop.

And then the cat puked on the carpet, or rather, regurgitated her inhaled cat food. I went downstairs to get cleaning supplies, and by the time I got back upstairs, she had re-eaten half of it. Lovely.

Animal excrement - what I always wanted my life at home to be about after a hard day's work.


P.S. Oh, and I did get my cardio in in-between all the shit. Yay for me.

Vile Steak Fat

So, Matt and I love to eat out at nice restaurants when we vacation. We did not have good luck on our last vacation, the vacation I never did get around to writing about.



We will pay good money for good food. It is so disappointing when you order a $25 steak and it is not up to par. The steaks were supposed to be trimmed first. A little fat is okay, after all, this is cow meat we're talking about. But when it is MOSTLY fat, I draw the line.



The martinis at this particular restuarant were excellent though. After a couple, we took a picture of the steak fat on Matt's steak from his cell phone.

ENJOY!

YUMMY!!!!!!!

P.S. I fianlly commented on some of your comments dating all the way back to 6/20! Heh...sorry for the delay. I didn't realize I was so behind!

Hormones, Conformity, and Fashion. I think this is all related, but I'm not really sure.

I'm not feeling so numb now. I think it was just a fluctuating hormonal issue, LOL. I will never get used to the ebb and flow of my hormones, it seems. I never recognize it while it's happening. When I start feeling something crazy, or not feeling anything at all, I never think, "ah...it's my tumultuous hormones acting up again! I shall ride it out!". Nope...I never get it until after the fact. My emotions get wacky, I get cramps, I think "why, why, why???", and then I figure it out when certain things happen, or rather, flow. Duh!

I think that's what it was. In any case, I feel more normal now. Normal for me.

I wrote a while back about being anti-LOL and anti-other silly internet jargon. Notice I use LOL in the very first paragraph of this post. I have conformed. It's just easier to talk the talk and walk the walk of the Romans when I'm in Rome.

Historically, I eventually cave like that. I'm all anti-new things, especially when it comes to hype and popular stuff, but eventually I come around and participate. The funny and sad thing is, I'm usually too late, and by the time I conform, the said subject is out of style.

I just starting using "rawks" and "kewl", mostly as a joke, but I've been told that this is now 3 years out of style, and you can't even joke around about using them now. (to the person who enlightened me on this fact, I love ya man. I truly thought it was funny...no worries. It's just making this essay better, is all) :)

Other examples are TV shows. I did not like nor watch Friends or Seinfeld when they were popular. People talked about them so much, that I refused to watch them. Now I love them both, and both are in syndication.

Same with fashion...I refuse to buy things the minute it becomes a fashion necessity, until about a year later when no one else is wearing it.

Lucky for me, I am 36 years old. Whew! Thank God I do not have to be KEWL anymore. No one really notices, I don't think. (BTW, I hated high school. ;) )

Speaking of being out of it....I would hate to be on the show "What Not To Wear". I would consider that a personal insult. I lied earlier...I am actually quite fashionably hip, at least in my mind's eye, and for a 36 year old, and for a Midwesterner (thank god I am not in NY or Cali. It's easy to maintain a fashion sense where I live. Just look around. People need to get their shit together.).

Many people say they would love that show b/c you get $5000 worth of shopping. My arguments to that:

1) Have you seen the show? They surprise you by telling you on TV that all of your friends and family got together and decided you are the worst dressed person they know, with no fashion sense whatsoever. Stacy and Clinton are harsh and mean. I love them on the show, but I am way too thin-skinned for that.

2) $5000 is not going to get you very far with the types of clothes they want you to buy...jeans and tops and dresses for $500 a piece, or more! I agree with all the participants who hate spending that much and want to find a bargain. And then they want you to pay a tailor to make it fit just right. Whatever. Obviously, I'm too poor to understand all that.

3) Finally, they give you a credit card with your name on it. Big deal! I've got plenty of those! I want a credit card with *their* name on it, b/c the last time I checked, credit cards with your name on it have the bills sent to your name! I know the show pays for it, but I still think they need to fix that glitch.


I would love to get a makeover by that hair guy and the makeup girl though. I'd take that in a heartbeat. I wish my hairdresser knew what to do like that. Mine is good, but I have to make most of the decisions, and I have a hard time explaining myself b/c, you know, I am not a hairdresser. The hair guy on that show is all about "Your hair needs this color and this cut, and then you will look good" and he is usually right.

I've gotten great tips from that show, but a couple of things I don't agree with:

1) They think it's horrible to wear jogging pants, those striped track kind, to walk in your neighborhood. They wanted this chick to throw them away, and the lady was like, "oh, I just wear these to walk in my neighborhood", and Stacy yells out "WELL! I FEEL SORRY FOR YOUR NEIGHBORS THEN!!!". What? Who cares? Just to walk or exercise, I'm not going to worry about it. Even to the mall or the grocery store, I don't mind not looking perfect, although I agree that you shouldn't look like a slob all the time either.

I mean, I've got my cute little workout outfits, b/c I need them for motivation, so I don't look like a ragged, rundown housewife when I work out, but my outfits include track pants and yoga pants, and I (gasp!) wear them in my neighborhood. My husband and I always joke around about it with "you're going to go outside looking like THAT??? What will the neighbors think???"

2) Scrunchies: people need to lighten up about these. I don't wear them out to dinner or to work, but can't you pull your hair back with them while you do housework for gosh sakes? I do.

3) They made one chick throw away her Olympic jacket and she was in the Olympics! Whatever. I'd tell them to F off. It's not like she has to wear that out on dates or anything.

That said...some people's fashion styles on that show are hilarious. I especially love the ones that are people my age trying to dress like a 20 year old.

And that is one thing I learned...how to dress at the right age without looking like an old lady. It's quite difficult at my age, I think, to find the perfect balance, and something I'll elaborate on later.

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PS for those in blogland: Thank you to everyone who may read and/or post on this silly blog o'mine. I have been terribly negligent in most aspects of my life, especially my friends and everything internet related. The baby and working full time is a huge challenge for me, and I'm still learning to manage time. I suck miserably at it. I barely manage to pay bills. I try to check in on blogs when I can, and am always happy to see when you are doing well, and am sad if you are not. I may read, but can't always comment. And it's not b/c I'm too good for this or lead such an active life...I'm telling you...everything is baby, baby, baby right now. SO....I'm sure my friends understand, and, thanks again! ;-) (I'm looking to quit my job so I can get back to internet surfing full time, heh. Priorities!)

(un)Comfortably Numb

I am in a strange phase right now. I can't feel anything emotionally. Maybe I'm a man. Kidding.

Historically, I've been known to be a drama queen, and to enjoy the melodramatic. I've had very black and white thinking, and immature ways of handling things. My reasoning was that I'm a "writer" (laughable) and that this is how writers live and think - leaning towards the melodramatic, the theatrics - and I thought this made my life exciting and eventful. I thought this made me "artsy".

I've matured over the years, and more recently I have become more grown-up with the way I handle conflict. I also took an anti-drama vow. I am so over drama, my own and everyone else's. I don't feed into it, I don't add to it, and I steer clear from it, in fact.

But at what price? Has this caused me to become emotionally void? I don't feel passionate about ANYTHING at the moment. I mean nothing. I don't feel upset about the lack of passion, although I am obviously aware of it as I am writing about it. I'm not depressed. I'm not on medication. I feel love still, like for my baby, and I'd describe that/him as my greatest passion of the moment I suppose.

Everything else though...nothing. No great IN LOVE feeling, no projects or sports or books or anything that I'm excited about. I'm just sorta here, existing. It's like I have stepped outside myself to observe myself without really taking part in how I'm feeling or how things are affecting me.

Nothing is wrong with my life. I'm not exactly complaining.

Dealing with conflict has become interesting. Again, I used to get overly upset and melodramatic when conflict came along. The last conflicting event in my life though is what I think sent me into this indifferent state of mind. I didn't want to fight or argue or get upset or cry or anything. I was very matter-of-fact about it all, grown up, mature, saw things for what they were, didn't take it personally.

I feel uninspired. I guess that's the drawback. Could be just a mood. Maybe simply a coping mechanism. I find myself intrigued with myself, heh. And slightly startled, if I was going to feel anything. Maybe surprised or amused are better words.

Perhaps it's the black and white thinking creeping in again. I'm either overly dramatic, or dead inside. Middle ground, come hither.

LOUD NOISES!!!

I've just realized a ?manic? problem I have: I can't stand loud noises.

Right now it's fireworks time in our neighborhood, or firecrackers, or whatever. The type that make really loud noises. They have been going on non-stop for a couple of hours, and will continue until midnight, and then resume every night throughout July and probably into August.

I'm sitting at the computer feeling very tense. I just realized how tense I was. How to describe the feeling....

My eyebrows are furrowed into a worried looking frown. I feel nervous. I feel on edge. Each time another goes off, I feel uncomfortable. I can't relax. I'm worried about the baby waking up. I'm worried about the noise pollution. I'm wondering if this is legal, and why someone can't stop this. I have a ball of worry and tension in the pit of my stomach. I just want it to quit.

Dogs often reflect the personalities of their owners. Ours does for sure. She hates this, and is also tense. When she's outside, it's nonstop barking. When she's inside, she paces and whines and sits as close to me as possible.

She's always done this, and I always wondered what her problem was. But now I realize she's learned it from me. I internalize it all...it's not like I'm pacing the house and whining. I just sit here and feel tense in my head. Dogs are amazing creatures to sense such things.

However, the dog makes things 100 times worse for me. She is so nervous, that every time I move, she darts right in front of me in her nervousness, and keeps circling around me and/or darting out of my way and grunting, and generally acting like a freak...all of which adds to my tense state and sort of makes me mad.

And now reflecting on my noise aversion, I realize that loud noises in any context make me tense. When I'm at work, any kind of loud noise around my office (people talking too loud, someone playing their music too loud, nearby construction) practically paralyzes me and I can no longer work. I sit there trying to block the noise out, but I get that furrowed brow thing again and a tension headache and overall antsyness. I lose all focus.

Sometimes, my husband goes on task rampages at the same time I've decided it's time to relax. He's loudly putting away dishes, running back and forth between rooms slamming doors and making lots of noise. I can't relax, and sometimes have to leave the house b/c I can't take it anymore. And he's not even doing anything wrong!

And forget about it if he's working on a house project and starts yelling and cussing. That's just the way he does projects, but I always make myself scarce then.

Maybe I need some Valium...not sure. I'm not sure why loud noises bother me so much. Something from my past? Something about being an only child?

Or maybe I'm a nervous or uptight person? I don't like to think of myself as such, but this whole situation reminds me of the Victorian Age when women used to get a "case of the nerves" and would pass out all the time and had to use smelling salts. Actually, what I need is that other stuff they used to get addicted to b/c of nerves. Wait...let me Google...laudalum I think.

Another related thing that makes me nervous is fighting. I mean real life loud arguments between individuals...they make me very tense and nervous and I want to leave. Physical fighting, too...as in bar fights and the like. I feel the adrenaline rush that everyone else feels, but I also feel immediately uptight and upset and want to leave. And I am certain that this aspect of it does stem from a couple of childhood events. I automatically feel it when the firecrackers start going off.

Now, the planned 4th of July fireworks cities have do not make me nervous. It's something about it being a planned event and I'm there watching it, expecting the noise, wanting the show.

But in my neighborhood right now, I'm trying to do other things, the noises are not planned and not supposed to happen, and they are an outside irritant interfering with my thinking and my life. They invade my household and thus, my personal space.

Ah well...I could live in a war-striken country, and then I'd *really* have a reason to be tense. I'm lucky. Now, pass the laudalum. (and now the baby is crying...great. I'm telling you...these fuckers are LOUD)

I could be buff if I wanted to...

My husband and I have a tendency to be negative at times, and we feed off each other with that. We can really dig a hole of negativity and bury ourselves in it when we feel like it. We also tend to lean towards thinking that people are out to intentionally fuck with us, and that God and Fate hate us. The worse one of us is, the worse the other is, and it really wears us down. We enjoy talking about it a little too much, with a lot of fuck that and fuck them and fuck that's...which is funny at first, but then you know, it gets to be self-defeating.

At the same time, we feed off each other's positivity as well. We will never be the do-gooder type of bubbly happy happy joy joy silly folk. However, we could be happier. And many times, we are. It's a challenge when one of us is feeling negative for the other to be positive.

Matt and I are lucky in so many ways. God and Fate don't really hate us. The biggest blessing is Baby Jude. The chances of us having a child were zero to none, so we were told. We tried in-vitro on a whim, not really sure if it would work, and the odds were against us. We prayed and prayed and prayed, and asked family and friends to pray for us, too. Praying is very unlike Matt & I, but we really wanted the power of positive thinking in this case to work for us. We truly believed in the cause.

And it worked. We have our Baby Jude. I STILL cannot believe it. How could we ever question our fate again? Or God? Seriously. We are as born-again as we are going to get. I thank God every day. I'm not sure if we even deserved this blessing. It wasn't supposed to happen, and it did. We are forever changed.

On a way, way less serious note: Another blessing for Matt & I is our body types. We are both thin. We can eat crap, and remain relatively thin.

I am into fitness, and I see people struggle with their weight and body type and eating habits every day. I'd like to say I'm a great person, but I'm really not. Matt & I are blessed with good genetics when it comes to fat ratios. We're just not fat! We do happen to be very active, but it's not really a choice we make. We just are. Well, I guess it is a choice. Or is it? It's a debate really. It's not like we say "we really should get up off our asses". We both are the type who don't mind parking far away in a parking lot. Walking doesn't kill us. And I see others circle and circle until they get that close spot, and they are usually overweight. And you can't use having kids as an excuse. We bring Jude all the time. He doesn't care if we park far away.

Here's the downside to our body type genetics: We both have so much more potential. We could both be really buff and cut individuals. But we think so much alike. We are minimalists. We're thin, people tell us we look good, so why bother with the extra mile crap? Matt's doctor just told him the other day that he is healthy and needs to do exactly what he is doing, and Matt hasn't worked out in 3 weeks and eats his fair share of crap!

I am doing the minimum in workouts and eating about 85% clean, but I wear a size 4, people are pissed b/c I'm not fat post-baby...knowing all that and knowing I'm not giving 100% as it is...what is my incentive? I'm getting by on the minimum.

Matt & I both have this roadblock. We are underachievers in our jobs and in this. It's like we get really close to achieving and overachieving, and then we stop ourselves and stay below that line. Why is this? It's like it's just too easy.

Now, after having baby, I have cut myself some slack with my first BFL challenge. I think it's okay for me to just go along while I figure out my schedule, and while I'm still nursing. I could really look and feel so much better. I am longing to go that extra mile my next challenge, and really push myself. I think I could be killer if I really pushed myself. I think I could achieve what many people only dream of. It's all right there in front of me, on a silver platter. So...what is stopping me? Something is. I'm not sure what it is, but something is stopping me. It's like I cannot just let myself be successful. It's hard to explain what goes on in my brain.

Common Driving Mistakes

I’ve noticed that many drivers don’t know the rules. I would like to refresh a few memories.

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1) A 4-way stop means stop, wait your turn, and then go. It does not mean stop and then go in and of itself. In other words, it does not mean stop and then go regardless of whose turn it is.

2) If you are taking a right at a 4-way stop, you still have to stop and wait your turn.

3) If you are taking a left at an intersection and don’t have an arrow, you do NOT have the right of way.

4) It’s okay to turn right on red if there is no sign that says “No turn on red”.

5) At the same time, you cannot turn on red if the sign says you cannot, so quit honking at me asshole and read the fucking sign.

6) A yellow light does not mean hurry up and speed through. Neither does a red light.

7) A green light does not mean slow down to almost a halt 100 yards before the light just in case it may suddenly turn red. (old people love to do this)

8) When someone is passing you on a two lane highway, this is not your cue to suddenly remember what a slow ass driver you are and speed up. This is in fact very dangerous.

9) Cruise control is your friend. If I pass you on a 4-lane highway, I am maintaining a constant speed, I caught up to you,so I went around you. It’s not personal. So why do you catch up to me again? Worse, why do I THEN catch up to YOU, AGAIN? Get with the program. I don’t feel like playing this game for 60+ miles.

10) Slamming on your brakes because you see a cop does no good. By the time you see the cop, it’s too late, sucka.

11) Slamming on your brakes to stop a tailgater also does no good. It’s not like they are going to say, “Oh, gee, I guess I AM being a jerk. I will politely back off”.

12) Honking at a semi-truck who cuts you off is pointless. They don’t give a shit. They can’t see you, or if they can they are bigger than you, and they do what they want.

13) If you ride a motorcycle, you do not have the right to run red lights so that your “gang” can stay together. I personally don’t think weaving in and around cars is a smart idea either.

14) Getting mad at bad drivers really does no good at all. Flipping them off just makes you look stupid. Honking isn’t going to teach them anything. I would suggest only honking if a wreck is imminent, or if someone doesn’t know the light is green. Otherwise, it’s pointless. Bad drivers aren’t going to change because you get mad at them. 9 times out of 10, I would guess that people are just not paying attention. It is not a personal vendetta against you when people drive so poorly or cut you off, get in your way, etc.

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Driving around here annoys the hell out of me. The list could go on and on. I am working very diligently at following rule #14, a personal challenge. I want to be a good role model for my son, not some cussing, bird-flipping, white trash maniac.

Are We There Yet?

This is my perspective on what it means to a woman to have an orgasm versus what it means to a man:

NOTE: Graphic material



There is the physical versus the mental nature of having sex. For women it's more mental. For men it's more physical.



There are very few absolutes in life. Of COURSE women can enjoy the physical, too. And sometimes it's all physical for women. Of COURSE men can be very mental about making love, too.



But when it comes to coming, men have a true physical need, while women really do not. It just feels good. Sure, if we are brought to the brink and nothing happens, it might be slightly uncomfortable or slightly annoying, but not physically painful.



I'm not a man, so I won't pretend to be one, although I've tried several times, hence the strap-on. KIDDING! Seriously though...through my many years of observation, it seems that men get a buildup whereupon they need a release. I don't know if it's exactly painful, but from all accounts, it seems to be pretty uncomfortable. I think men really NEED to masturbate if they are not releasing some other way, whereas women just do it b/c they can. Women may feel a little on edge if they don't get that release, but it's not like we've got semen building up in our balls that need releasing. It's just a muscle contraction for us. Having an orgasm releases endorphins, which feels good, but we're not getting blue balls.



So when sexual activity commences, for men, there is a definite ending - they come. Everyone knows that is what the aim is (sometimes, I'm unprepared for where "the aim" is, heh). Everyone knows that when that happens, it's over. Everyone knows that when it doesn't happen, it's not really over.

Have I, as a woman, ever collapsed on top of my husband and then rolled off as if we're all down now after I came? Ha ha - that would be funny to try. Nope - we keep pushing forward until he's done, too. He'll push forward for me, too, in the opposite situation. But, something is different...there is a momentary lapse in thrusting wherein he glows in his achievement, and then it's just different if he keeps trying to please me. I mean...he's DONE. It's just not the same. Yeah, we can restart him sometimes, but then we're looking at a marathon fuck. More below on that. Whereas if I get there, I'm not done. My vagina doesn't literally close up for business afterwards. Now THAT WOULD be funny.



I don't know why people try to deny it. Men who act like they don't care if they do get there are lying. Men who act like they are still interested in pleasing a woman afterwards...well, those men are great sports, and I'd advise holding onto them if you have one like that. I personally do not feel satisfied if my partner does not get there, because I know that is what he wants.



I'm not saying I'm nothing more than a latex vagina for him to jerk off into. I know a lot is indeed mental for him in regards to the fact that it is *me* he is doing this with, and he wants me to enjoy it, too. I'm just saying that none of us is going to be happy until he gets there.



Which brings me to my point, cuz I do have a point:



It is not as important for me to get there every time, but he thinks it is, b/c it is important for him to get there.

The minute I catch on to the fact that he wants me to get there, like RIGHT NOW, it's never going to happen. I can't make people laugh on demand, I cannot pee on demand, and I cannot orgasm on demand. The minute he says "are you going to come for me?", the answer would be no. This is my mental hang-up. I do not think most women are like this. Not really sure actually.

There is a myth that the longer the duration, the better (note I did not say that "the bigger the better" is a myth, :) ). Now, I am all for marathon fucks and they have their important place in my life. Believe me. I'm not a huge fan of the "enter/stroke/cum" quick succession of events either. Somewhere between marathon and quickness, I am happy. When I feel like we all are trying too hard, the desire starts to fizzle.

I think he feels the same; if he gets the sense that I'm not having fun and just waiting for him to finish, I think it becomes a mental struggle for him. too. And rightly so. It's hardly ever like that, but you know, we all have our moments of imperfection in the bedroom. Lots of variables that would require way too much writing.

I must add there are those times that I will *not* be happy unless I do get there. I'd say about 2 out of every 5 times I feel that way. I let him know, and he knows exactly what needs to be done in those instances. :)

Communication, as always, is the key. I don't mind saying, "I'm sorry. It's just not going to happen". However, I don't want him to take it as a personal failure on his part. I know he feels that way, but it totally is not the case for me. I am happy with it 9.5 out of 10 times, even if I don't orgasm. I'd rather tell him this than fake an orgasm.

I wonder which one makes him happier though? He wouldn't want me to fake it, but would he be happier thinking I came than he would be knowing the truth? Hmmmm. One of those "is he better off not knowing" dilemmas wherein him knowing maybe just makes ME feel good and guilt-free, but does not do much for him. I can't ask him, cuz of course he will say he doesn't want me to fake it. So, he'd have to really think I finished. Interesting.

Further, knowing that he wants to on his end and needs it, I *do* consider it a personal failure when he does not, which is very, very rare, but it's happened. No amount of explaining will convince me otherwise.

It sounds like I'm a hypocrite and am pegging women and men into their respective stereotypes. Perhaps, but I do believe there is a marked difference between men and women in general, in what they want out of sex, and what an orgasm means to each.

Many similarities exist, of course, and this is the stuff that a good marriage is built upon. I don't think the differences are bad; just something men and women should know about.

Cell Phone Hell: The Generation Gap Widens

Cell phones.

On the college campus where I work, I challenge you to find a student who is not walking and talking on his or her cell phone. I would guess 7 out of 10 students are doing such.

And what, maybe 3 out of 5 drivers? It’s not illegal here as far as I know. Yet.

Really, just about everywhere I go, grocery store, movie theater, mall, it doesn’t matter, I see at least one person on their cell phone. At the very least.

So what, right? What business of is this is mine?

I’ll tell you why it’s my business, and I’ll let you in on a little secret:

Did you know that talking on your cell phone gives you automatic privileges and the right to ignore everyone in your path? What happens is that as soon as you commence to talking on your cellular, an invisible bubble engulfs you – a force field if you will, whereupon as you walk or drive, everyone and everything parts out of your path. Pretty fucking cool, huh? The stuff good science fiction is made of!

I didn’t believe it myself, but my husband and I tried a little experiment. We were at JC Penney’s around the Christmas holiday getting pictures of our baby taken. Getting pictures means you wait around forever to get the actual picture shot (if it’s a holiday), then go away for about an hour while Penney’s tries to figure out the best ways to rip you off by forcing you to look at millions of poses of your little baby…way more than you expected or needed to buy. I mean, you’d be a real asshole if you didn’t find the photos adorable and didn’t want to buy all you could.

Anyway, back to the experiment. Matt & I were shopping around waiting for the great photo finish. We noticed that when people were walking around while talking on their cell phones, several things happened:

1) They somehow could not see us, but we could see them! Even with our stroller. When walking towards other cell phone talkers directly in our path, we could tell they were in a very serious conversation, that they could not see us, and so when they came charging towards us, we were forced to dive roll to the side out of their way. That is very hard to do with a baby in a stroller. We were amazed that the stroller would not break the cell phone force field, but it would not.

2) The invisible bubble essentially created a microcosm of the cell phone user’s living room. What this means is that they had complete privacy to talk as loudly as they wanted about anything they wanted, with total disregard to everyone around them, because, they were basically in their own living room

3) Being on their cell phone and in the bubble gave them dibs to just about everything in the store! Cool!


Matt & I were skeptical, as I said. This couldn’t be true. Matt was getting frustrated that we also did not have this power, or rather, that we weren’t using it to it’s fullest potential.

So you know what he did? He got his cell phone out and started in on a fake conversation. He talked very loudly and with authority, as if what he had to say was serious business & required the utmost attention. He did this as I followed him around with the stroller.

I shit you not….people got out of the way! Matt just stormed through the store and everyone moved for us. The bubble really exists!

I normally would protest such asshole moves like this. I mean, we don’t want to be like the rest of the assholes out there. But, it was pretty freaking funny that everyone moved like that, and that we had the power. And to be honest, I was grateful to not be knocked down anymore by other cell phone users. It felt good to just rampage through the store as if we were very important, too.

So, now I believe in the invisible cell phone bubble and it’s immense power. Having this knowledge helps to explain several things to me:

1) Why students feel the need to call someone as soon as they leave class to tell their friends they are going to the next class now.
2) Why said students can cut me off, walk as slow as they want to in front of me in a zig-zag path, and scream in my ear about the party last night to their friends on the phone.
3) Why people answer their cell phones during movies at the theater, and talk as if there is no one around and like they are in their own living room: “Hey dude. I’m watching Spider-man. Yeah, it’s pretty good. Whaddup?” – all in a normal tone of voice! Groovy!
4) Why when people drive while talking on their cell phones they don’t have to obey traffic laws or even drive in a straight line.
5) Why people need to idly chit chat through the aisles of the grocery store, and why I am forced out of the way while they do so.
6) Why in said grocery store, the sneaky folks who use the hidden ear plug thingies always give me dirty looks when I answer them back. I’m breaking their force field, damn it!
7) Why cell phones have to be answered no matter what, no matter what cost, no matter what the circumstance, even when I’m out to dinner with a friend one-on-one, and so I’m forced to sit uncomfortably throughout their conversation while I look like a tool.

You see, I did not know about the cell phone force field. I was just using my phone for emergencies, or to quickly tell Matt when I’d be home, etc. The conversation always had a direct purpose. And I stupidly tried to be polite and respect others’ space, and to be safe about it while driving,

It never occurred to me to use the cell phone while standing at the cash register, or while in the bathroom stall, or while on a date with Matt. Had I known about the invisible force field bubble, I would have wielded this power long ago.

It’s never too late to learn. My next task is to work on keeping up with cell phone sizes. Every time I upgrade to a smaller phone, they get even smaller, and I can’t keep up. My phone always looks gigantic compared to the bubbly little sorority girl’s phone next to me in line at the bookstore.

I’m sure sometime in the future there will be some sort of nanotechnology where the phone will basically be in our body somewhere and we simply control it with our minds. Awesome! As long as the bubble is still a part of the program, and I’m sure it will be.

Scare Tactics

Where does one draw the line between legitimate safety concerns, and all out scare tactics?

I used to love “news” shows like 20/20 and Dateline. I’m not sure if I just got older, or if the shows themselves actually changed. It used to be that these shows had informative, fun, or interesting topics as subject matter.

I stopped watching in the 90’s though when every show’s tagline began with something like this:

WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT INK PENS. YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT. NEXT!!!, ON 20/20…

wherein you were forced to watch 20 minutes of commercials before finding out how the dread pen could kill you.

There was a skit about this type of thing on SNL with Jerry Seinfeld as host. It hit the nail on the head, as SNL will do.

Every freaking news show was always about how common household objects, or people on the street, or the neighbor’s cat, could kill you!

I started out at first believing all this shit, as one would do. I mean, this is 20/20. This is Dateline. This is television after all. Television never lies, right? A newsperson always tells the truth, right?

I remember thinking after watching such topics: “OH NO! I’ve GOT to get rid of all of my pens. What if I don’t? I mean, I really can’t do it in a practical sense, so what if I really do get cancer and die?”, then I’d lay in bed all night worrying about the freaking pens.

I am a natural born worrier, you see. It used to control me. Over the years, I have learned to control it. But, like with a drug addict, you don’t want to hang around the drug you are addicted to. I tried to avoid things that produce unnecessary worry at all costs.

The last straw, and when I saw the light, was a Dateline or 20/20 show about halogen lamps. Halogen floor lamps were big in the 90’s, and of course, we had one. The entire show was about how dangerous they are, and how many homes have burned down because of them.

I remember feeling panic in my stomach. I thought we JUST bought the lamp. Should I throw it away? Nah, nothing will happen. But what if it does? OH NO!!!

Then I saw the light, as it were. I thought, enough is enough. I am not going to sit around all day worrying about my house burning down. I will keep the lamp out of contact with the curtain, as any sane person would do anyway. Just remain calm and relaxed about it. Don't get worked up into a frenzy.

From that point forward, I quit watching these shows, and life has been much easier.

The topic has resurfaced though since having a baby. We subscribe to Parenting magazines, but not for long. The issues are filled with various things to be scared of because they will kill your baby. The thing that lit the bulb this time was an article about how basically everything in your house produces dust which can, well not kill, but cause your baby to have severe allergies. This is not a quote, but the general idea:

“There are tiny dust particles everywhere, even after you dust. These particles get into your baby’s lungs and cause allergies. You think you’re doing something good by putting a humidifier in your baby’s room? Think again. When not cleaned properly, all the humidifier does is cause mold of which the spores get into your baby’s lungs and cause asthma…” etc, etc.

At first I thought, “Oh no! I need the humidifier b/c it gets so dry in our house and baby gets sick from that , but we need to keep it clean b/c of the mold spores. I clean it, but what if it’s not clean enough? And the dust, and the cats…my baby!”

Then I got a grip. Listen, I cannot spend day in and day out worrying about the dust in my house. Dust exists. I can’t help it.

This is not to say I don’t do what I can. I do dust. Quite a bit. We vacuum. We clean. We do our best. Our very best. If it’s still not good enough, then we will all die I guess. But I’m not going to ruin my life by worrying about things I cannot control.

This is also not to say there is no value in informing the public of the dangers that may exist, of the newest studies, etc. It’s the way it’s approached that bothers me.

It’s obviously a marketing tactic for mass media. If you know there is going to be a show or article about something that might kill you or your baby, what kind of person are you if you don’t watch or buy it?

The problem is that we don’t know when it’s something to listen to or whether we should dismiss it.

It’s fine to be informed and to file things away in your “need to know” drawer. It’s quite another to worry about your very life and the life of your child over an ink ball pen or a lamp! They don’t have to say it that way, like your house will burn down if you don’t do such and such. Just because it happened to even 50 people doesn’t mean it will happen to you.

Shitty things happen and they always will. There is a difference between a freak accident, and things we could really prevent.

The public buys into this fear factor philosophy, which is why it sells so well. I can't tell you how many forwarded e-mails I get telling me to fear the gas station, the supermarket, the priest, not to mention the fact that if I don't forward the e-mail to 20 people within 20 minutes, I obviously have no friends, I obviously do not care, and I am generally cursed for life. Talk about a scare tactic!

So seriously, where is the line? I refuse to live my life scared as shit over everything that could burn my house down. At the same time, I do not want to ignore important information that could possibly save my loved ones’ lives. Who are what are the valid sources? Who can I trust?

Shaken, Not Stirred, sure. But Shaken, not Wiped?

I am an only child. This means, duh, I do not have brothers and sisters.

I did a lot of babysitting, but that’s not the same as watching your mother take care of a sibling every day.

I helped my grandma babysit my cousins, but the following subject never came up.

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

An Education on What Happens at the Toilet
Or “Another Great Topic for Dinner Conversation!”

I am a woman, and I know what women do and don’t do on the toilet. They do not stand to pee. They sit. There are always exceptions, but I’m talking about the norm here. And I’m going to be talking about the norm throughout this essay.

So, women sit. We’re clear on that. No matter what we’re doing on said toilet, we sit (or squat if in public).

Another thing that women do: We wipe. No matter what has come out of what orifice, we wipe it nice and clean and dry. A sort of analogy to a famous saying men use for men at the toilet: If you wipe too long, then you’re just playing with it (but women are not so apt to play with it on the toilet. I’m not saying it hasn’t been done, but most women are of the opinion that the toilet is not the place to be. We want to do our business, and then hightail it out of there. Men seem to love it there, which is why it takes them twice as long to finish poo’ing and why they like to read encyclopedias in there. It’s their escape! So..very…sad.) Regardless, we wipe.

Unless we notice after the fact that there is no tp and then we are forced to drip dry, which never works very well, now does it?

So, women sit. Women wipe. Yay for Women.

Men.

My logic always told me that if women wipe, men must wipe, too. Of course they do for their sit down function (again, the majority here), but for the standing, they’d wipe, too, right? I mean, they just peed, so why wouldn’t they wipe it nice and dry? Sure, they’ve got some extra tubing, but does how long the tube is really matter? Sure, the end of the tube is farther away from a man’s body than a woman’s, but it’s still their body – the opening is still at the end of their body. I know “it” sometimes has its own mind and personality, but when they say that they are just making excuses - it is still part of their body.

Imagine my amazement when I discovered at the age of 22 that men didn’t wipe after all. Huh, whaddya know? They shake it! It’s a whole procedure where they sort of squeeze it to the end, and then flop that puppy around like there’s no tomorrow.

I see some faulty logic here:

1) No amount of shaking is going to get it nice and dry. Women know this, hence, we do not shake our ass all around trying to get it dry. Just imagine!

2) The toilet bowl is not so big and the men are not so accurate that they can aim the droplets produced by their shaking directly into the commode. Hence, the huge mess that most men make on the toilet bowl and the surrounding area.

My husband happens to be a very clean person. We do not have piss all around our toilet. However, I do tend to find a mess of piss on the rim when I lift the lid to clean it. He can’t ever see it, of course, being that he’s standing the whole time and too busy aiming his wiener. He does wipe the rim off most of the time though – I’ll give him that, but wouldn’t it be easier just to wipe the sausage in the first place?

3) Related to 1) , without wiping it, they are going to get little droplets of piss on their underwear. I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it. I know. Maybe not everytime, maybe not everyone, but it is possible.


I propose that men everywhere stop with the shaking and take just one square of toilet paper and dab that baby. I think you would like the results of this much better. You’d get it nice and dry, your underwear wouldn’t get a little dab of piss on it, our toilets would be cleaner, and when you come to bed, I would not feel a little wetness or piss droplets on my leg.

Plus, if you want my mouth anywhere near it, I’d prefer no urinal residue, thank you very much, or I’d at least like the residue to be minimized. I don’t like the thought of the piss only being shaken off the stick followed by being placed anywhere near my body. I mean, I’d prefer a full body bath beforehand actually, but, one can’t get too picky about these things or one would be considered an uptight bitch.

I wondered why the little boy I babysat for when I was a teen always gave me a funny, sideways look when I made him wipe it. I didn’t know! He is probably in therapy now because of me.

On that note, do I teach my son to “shake it” or what? “Okay, honey, now, just slowly squeeze it to the end and now…..SHAKE IT! YAY!! SHAKE IT LIKE CRAZY!! YOU GET ALL THAT PEE OFF OF THERE! Good boy!!!”, and then do I have to physically show him? I suppose with a little boy in training, he would just have to jiggle it a little or something. But he really won’t be using toilet paper for this??? Sounds like a job for hubby. Oh my.

Pill Popping, aka Swallowing

Why is it that at 36 years old, I still cannot swallow pills well?

I have to drink milk in order to take pills. Nothing else works. Then no one can be in the room while I attempt my feat of pill swallowing. Especially Matt - he cannot watch me. I just cannot swallow with him staring at me [insert dirty joke here]. It's weird.

Even when alone finally, I sit there with the pill on the back of my tongue for what seems like forever, bobbing my head up and down trying to get my throat to accept this foreign object (more dirty jokes popping up in my head, but I'm not talking about that).

Once I finally swallow [hee - I can't get past that word!), half the time, the stupid thing turns completely sideways, wherein I can feel it slowly slide down my food tube inch by painful inch, until it becomes lodged somewhere between my throat and my stomach, forcing me to drink a gallon of milk to get it completely down. What's the deal with that?

The other half of the time, I swallow it completely wrong, it doesn't make it past the back of my throat, and I end up gagging and sort of puking it back up, and all the outer coating has rubbed off and it's all gross and stuff.

The culprit pill of the moment is my prescription prenatal vitamins, which I still take for breastfeeding purposes. I take one every day, and every day, it's a battle. They are not small, but they are not the biggest pills I've ever taken, and at least they are coated with that slimy stuff that makes them a tad easier to swallow (cuz you know, slimy=more swallowable).

I once tried to take these calcium pills clearly made for horses, and with no good coating. Forget about it. After 2 or 3 days of trying to force those suckers down, I gave up, and upped my milk consumptin instead.

So, how old am I again? Am I going to have to crush my pills or take all liquid medicine? Do we need to wrap my pills up in a treat like we do for the dog? Geesh.