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I just came home from the gym. I’m all hot, sweaty, and embarrassed. Usually I go to the gym to feel strong and boost my self-confidence but tonight I made an ass out of myself. After wiping my machine down, I headed towards the treadmill. A fit, gorgeous, and probably rich girl hopped off just in time, leaving one open just for me. I put my headphones on just right so when I got myself up to full speed (sadly, 3.5) they wouldn’t fall off. Feeling confident, I picked my wedgie and stepped on. I have no idea what happened. All I knew is that the freakin’ thing catapulted me back on the floor, hair in my face, headphones dangling. The older handsome gentleman next to me stared with confusion. It was at that point that I realized the damn machine was still going, the woman who was on it before me jumped off without actually turning it off! To play off my stupidity, I asked the gentleman, “Is she done with this one or is she taking a break?” Now to be honest, I was pretty sure the man didn’t actually know who that woman was so he wouldn’t know what her workout plans were but it was worth a try. He leans over and turns my machine off asking if he could help. Thankfully, he didn’t laugh because I had to conquer my treadmill fear and hop back on. The worst part is that it faced the mirror so I was jogging while watching parts jiggle while reliving my embarrassing moment while avoiding eye contact with anyone around me. Rich fit bitch, if I see you in the gym tomorrow, I’m spitting on your machine.
The sun put up a lingering fight but the moon won. It slid away, exhausted, behind the purple mountain. I see the mountain at it’s best, topped with snow, craving a cherry and at it’s worst, smoke rising from flames trying to take control of its terrain. The mountain is constant, unobtainable. There are billboards, phone lines, adobe buildings, and a blasé attitude that make it less important. I remember the days when seeing it stirred up the need to conquer it, run up to the top and look out over the world. Today, I noticed you, drank you in. I apologize for not appreciating your magnitude.
Last night I made these killer hamburgers, luckily they just injured us. It could have been the butcher, it could have been the expiration date, and it could have been my filthy hands. All I know is that the label didn’t say, “Produces severe vomiting,” but it did. The good part is that Spirited Toddler is a die-hard vegetarian who thrives on cheese. The not so good part is that Cute Hubby had two killer hamburgers, making him twice as sick. It hit us around midnight, outstayed it’s welcome until 4am. It was a vicious cycle of apologies, thankfulness, and pure disgusting acts; “honey, I’m so sorry. At least Spirited Toddler didn’t eat any. Oh God, here it comes!” It’s gone now but the mental images of moaning in pain and puking our guts out remain. At least I didn’t have to hold his hair back.
A conundrum: After whiskey slushes kicked in, we decided to let her husband drive us home. He called this morning to apologies for his behavior. I was in the back seat but after the first three girls got dropped off, I hopped in the front. I remember screaming, “Shotgun!” even though I was obviously the only one could get the front seat but when you’re tipsy, everything seems funny and I felt the need to be loud. I asked him how the movie was but that opened Pandora’s box. He confessed he hadn’t gone to the movies as instructed but went walking for some time alone, “I needed to collect my thoughts,” he said. I responded by asking him to roll the window down, needing fresh air. I guess he must have read the sign on my back that reads something like this, “Feel Free To Tell Me Anything, I Love Secrets!” I’ve never actually seen the sign but I swear it’s there, and for the record, I love secrets but I can’t keep one. He proceeded to share with me his marital problems even though I suggested he should be telling her. “It’s just that she’s become so mean lately.” I said, “Pregnancy is a hard time for women but it will be over soon.” He said they never have sex, at which point I covered my ears and told him to stop. “Well, it looks like you had sex 7months ago,” I told him. At that point, her weepy husband reached out and put his hand on my thigh. I threw it off and told him to get a hold of himself; he was acting like an idiot. At that point he started begging, “Please don’t tell my wife, please.”
Whiskey Slush is in my freezer becoming slushy, girls night out begins in 5 hours.
I just received an email from my moms group. They’re composing a new article in the newsletter. The email was straight and simple: “What is your best stain removal secret???” That’s right, three question marks. Shit, this is why stay at home moms get a bad rap. Things like this piss me off. I’d like to take their newsletters and hit them with it. That article promotes shallow, stupid, pointless thinking from moms. If it’s got a stain, wash it, move on. Just because a kid came out of my vagina, doesn’t mean my brain stopped working. I know there are plenty of people with stubborn stains but come on, this is why we’re getting lazy, fat, depressed, and in another 10 years divorced. Move away from the stain, into the light.
The Conclusion….
After waking up from a night of risky business, I headed to the gym. Upon arrival, there was one elliptical machine not occupying a sweaty person so I took charge and stepped on. As I started my music, I felt a sense of pride, “Sure you’re hot lady next to me, but is your pussy shaved?” Call it egotism if you must but I was feeling pretty good. All of a sudden, the sweat kicked in. I needed to scratch, but was in public. I couldn’t stand it so I headed to the lockers for a peek. What the hell was going on down there? My pubes were angry. I kicked them out. There was a rebellion going on. It was at that moment I longed for hair, any hair. I have a new respect for men who put their hands in their pockets to disguise “shifting.” Now I know, you gotta do what you gotta do. I’ve also found out that when your angry hair starts to grow back, they don’t like to be disturbed, especially by other hair. Laying a nightgown between us does the trick but leaves me feeling like I’m in some religious cult, having sex without actually seeing body parts. Underwear? Maybe next month, right now it’s not an option. So, next time you see your lover without hair, appreciate the sacrifice she’s made, comfort for sexuality. And for any of you contemplating the razor, it takes strength but you can do it, walk away.
At the expense of some beautiful pubic hair, I gained back my libido. Let me set the scene: Friday night. I’m in the bathtub.
I decided after such a wonderful evening out, I would relax in the tub, light a candle, and reclaim my womanhood. I thought I’d catch up on my masturbation but opted for preparing myself for my lover. He’d been so patient so I decided tonight was the night I would break our sex fast. After exfoliating, polishing, and scrubbing, I decided to pick up the razor and tackle my thighs. I slowly approached the razor free area when I thought, “I bet shaving off all of my pubic hair would really turn him on.” I reminisced about an Oprah episode I saw where women talked about Brazilian bikini waxes making them feel sexy but was about as painful as delivering a baby so I thought to myself, “I’ll just save myself some money and take care of this issue myself.” I wondered if doing something fancy like carving his initials in my hair would turn him on but after plotting out the logistics of shaving an “S” on my pussy, I decided to take it all off, cold turkey. I should have trimmed first but I’d never read any pubic hair removal guides so I wasn’t sure of the proper etiquette. The good part was that I was actually working out while shaving my way to Whoredome. I’d lay back, shave a few millimeters, and pop back up in order to rinse the hairs away. Overall, I’d say I did about 25 sit-ups. Twenty minutes and two razors later, I stepped out to check the full frontal image. Wow, I was as smooth as silk and quite slutty looking. I was proud. I laid on top of the sheets for the entire world to see the new me and called my man into the room. One look and he went wild exclaiming, “it’s like a brand new pussy!” I woke up feeling more alive than I'd felt in days but curious, was I still going to like the new me? Yep, there I was still hairless, smiling.
Stay Tuned:
Our next episode…The Burning Itch Sets In.
The alpha-female in my book club is getting on my nerves. She’s loud. Last time we met, she told us not to discuss the book because she hadn’t had time to finish it and she didn’t want us to ruin it for her. I was using the restroom when this comment was made but believe me, if I was there, I would have told her to go to hell, in a nice way of course. What really ticked me off is that the passive chick to my left actually agreed to that, leaving me speechless. Instead, we talked about her personal trainer and how hard it is to work out of her home even though her kid is in daycare. To make matters worse, she described in great detail her make-up routine in the mornings. My blood started boiling after she mentioned the famous people who knew her. As people laughed and worshiped her, my vindictive evil side appeared and blurted out the ending of the book. I want to kick her out, she’s just not like us, she shaves and I'm sure her panties and bra matched.
Warning: What you are about to see may disturb you. Below is actual footage of what I found under the couch cushions. It’s frightening so let me describe what you are seeing.
Coming soon: Disturbing objects found under the couch…
Love; A creative expression full of touch, winks, flirting, anticipation, and energy. I must tell you that lately you’ve taken my energy leaving me lifeless. Not in a new age crap sort of way but I want to tell you to just relax, take a deep breath and get back to the basics. We have sex almost everyday not because we can’t help ourselves but because it’s routine, expected. Through our good intentions there’s something I’ve been robbed of, anticipation and seduction. Sometimes I want to just feel you underneath me without intentions of fucking. Why can’t I just kiss you without your hands going up my shirt? A pinch of my nipples and you’re down in an instant, there’s quite a few steps you’re skipping. It’s closing me down. This routine we’re in is making me feel used and taken for granted. I got quantity and quality all mixed up. I hate routine in relationships, you know that. I miss slipping into something sexy and surprising you. No surprises these days because you don’t give me a chance. I miss climbing into bed with the lights off feeling our way into each other. Slow, lingering passion, discovering your body is what I miss. Without creative love making, exploring, flirting, I’ll become this desperate housewife so stop it, take a breath and wait for me to approach you. Please, give me the chance to pursue you for once, don’t rob me of my sexuality with routines; it’s making me resentful.
Remember the video game Frogger? Well, I seem to be playing it a lot these days. Not in front of the TV but every time I walk across the street to go to the park. Our city built this park slash baseball field across from my neighborhood but they didn’t bother to paint a crosswalk, leaving numerous families to dodge flying cars. My friend came over this morning with her two kids so we packed them into their appropriate restraints and headed to the park. Here’s what you have to do, run as fast as you can while making sure not to loose a child. Stop in the teeny tiny median that’s filled with cactus then run as fast as you can across four more lanes of traffic and into the park. This may sound simple to some but the trick is to stay alive and suck in your gut just in case a car comes too close. Usually the cars speed by but today a nice Samaritan slash idiot stopped in the middle of the street for us to cross but what he didn’t count on is the fact that the three other lanes of traffic had no intention of stopping leading us to just stand there ignoring his good intentions. I could see it happening in slow motion, the car approaching him had no idea why he was stopping, tried to pass him and rear-ender another car. I quickly shielded spirited toddlers eyes but the screaming people were heard clearly. Sadly, I’m not sure if it would take even a death to get the city to cough up some paint and a sign.
Our newspaper this morning had an article with the Top 10 Words they didn’t want to hear in 2005. Going through the list, laughing at number 4, carbs, I came to number 7, blog. I was a bit taken back because I was sure that everyone out there loved blogging as much as I do. Don’t they? When I first clicked on Mo’Time, I couldn’t figure out why some blogs were in different languages. Just a year ago, I couldn’t understand why at my blog house, they would allow different languages because it annoyed me. Thankfully, I started realizing that there were people outside the United States, and they had things to say just like me. It didn’t take long before I became disappointed when a hopeful blog was in a language I couldn’t understand. There was a part of the world I couldn’t read about. Someone out there had something important to tell us but I was missing out. I’d skim it, hoping to find at least one world I could grasp. My next revelation was in talking to someone in Sri Lanka. I was shocked when I mentioned I was eating a kiwi and he didn’t know what a kiwi was. He informed me there was an animal where he lived with a similar name, but not a fruit. That was it; I decided I needed an atlas and a dictionary by my computer. It wasn’t since college that I thought I had any use for an atlas, but boy was I wrong. Before blogging, I would have watched the news of the tsunami and thought it was unfortunate, but today, after actually knowing where it is in the world, and knowing tidbits of their culture, I feel the sadness in my heart, my head, even my fingertips. I’m became fascinated that I could chat with someone at the South Pole, whom I shortly found out lived just around the corner from me. I learned Sumatra wasn’t just a type of coffee, but a province of Indonesia. I apologize to you for choosing all these years to stay in my cubicle. Blogging has given me a window to the world, to you, and for that, I am thankful. Forgive me for my initial ignorance, my New Years resolution is to realize just how minor a role I play in this beautiful world and embrace each and everyone of you, and to wear sunscreen.
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