Saturday, February 13, 2010

S.E.X. oh yeah, I am going there…


“No, it’s just a thought that never crosses my mind. S is for the simple need, E is for the ecstasy, X is just to mark the spot, ‘cause that’s the one you really want!” Thank you, Nickelback, for your song and description of “the deed”. Singers have been singing about sex, well, since people have started singing. Remember in 1987, when George Michael released “I Want Your Sex”, oh the horror, the censorship and the drama that surrounded that release? He paved the road for the singers of today, to just say it out loud. No longer would the Beach Boys have to change their lyrics to “stay with you” instead of “sleep with you”, to get airplay. We are groomed since from a very young age to desire sex. I remember when I was 18 and Garth Brooks came out with “That Summer” after singing along to the hook

We had a need to feel the thunder

To chase the lightning from the sky

To watch a storm with all it wonder

Written in her lover's eyes

She had to ride the heat of passion

Like a comet burning bright

Rushing headlong in the wind

Now where only dreams have been

Burning both ends of the night

in the car with my mother she looked over at me and said, “well, someone certainly has high expectations for sex”. She assured me it wasn’t as good as the song made it sound. I was 18, engaged to be married, and a virgin, I hoped she was wrong and Garth was right!

Unfortunately for me, I married a man that as it turns out detested sex, at least with me. I guess when you are two virgins marrying, you don’t always find a compatible sexual partner. I thought I was getting married for the shear purpose of having sex, which is what my mother wanted me to think. Heaven forbid the daughter she controlled and raised fornicate and have sex prior to marriage, what would her snobby judgmental friends think? I would go straight to hell, do not pass go do not collect $200.

It is kind of abnormal I realize now, that he NEVER wanted to have sex, not even when we were honeymooning. After a couple of years, I got tired of begging but I tried everything I could to make him want me. I lost weight, I gained weight (you mock but his mother was over 300#) although I never got more than pudgy. I exercised, I got lingerie, I did everything I could to try and make him happy so that I could “feel the thunder, chase the lightning from the sky”. But for 16 years, it was futile. Eventually I gave up and trusted that no man would ever be attracted to me. When hell froze over and he decided to touch me he had a set of laws; I had to be fresh from the shower (now don’t misunderstand this, I have never been stinky, I shower twice a day and use deodorant and brush my teeth twice a day, I am almost obsessive compulsive about being clean and thanks to him I think I do have OCD about that now), I was not allowed to make a sound, he never ever touched me orally (for years I didn’t know this was even a possibility) and he didn’t seem to care for it much when I attempted to pleasure him. Sex usually only lasted 2 to 5 minutes, it’s absurd, I knew I deserved better. My mother use to assure me that he had a low sex drive and low testosterone, and I begged him to see a Doctor on several occasions, I even asked countless times if he was gay. How many women have to ask their husbands if they are gay? He assured me he wasn’t, it was my fault, I was disgusting. Once he even told me he would prefer to pleasure himself rather than be with me. I can tell you without a doubt this was THE moment I shut down completely and began hating him. It took me another 3 years to get up the courage to leave him and his abusive behaviors.

I am a very good looking woman most people say I am beautiful. I am intelligent, well educated and well spoken. I am athletic and active. I am independent and kind. I deserved better. I am proud to announce I HAVE finally found better, and Nickelback, George, and Garth were all right! Sex with the right person is phenomenal, and it can last more than 5 minutes…who knew?

I admit after years of emotional abuse, I am scarred and emotional wounds don’t heal over night. I am not sure they ever heal completely, although I am optimistic. When it comes to sex I am still naïve, I use to call myself the 34 year old virgin because after so many years of never having sex, I am sure I won my virginity back, not by choice but by circumstance. I am pretty sure I could never “hide” my naivety there is only so much you can learn reading, watching porn and studying up for the big event, so I chose disclose this to men so there weren’t any surprises. I went from never having sex, to having a few “meaningless sexual experiences” after all, I was like Stella, just trying to get my groove back…or in my case, find my groove in the first place. I think I was out to prove women could have sex and date without getting their hearts or emotions involved. I told my closest friend I wanted to break hearts and have my heart broken a few times, I guess that’s what I thought living a normal life involved.

But, sometimes life or God or whatever or force you believe in has a different plan. That neighbor I talked about, well, he came into my life. It is not like I am proud of the way I was treated for 16 years, actually I am still mortified, and think if people find out they will end up judging me, or perhaps seeing a glimpse of whatever revolted my ex-husband. We ended up riding our motorcycles together one Monday and we were getting friendly enough that he needed to know I am damaged goods. It wasn’t long after that, that things between us started to get intimate. I think my heart was involved pretty much from the day that I met him. I say this because we decided to visit a mutual friend, but I realized he had invited another guy friend. I was crushed. I wanted to spend time alone with him. I took it as a sign that he didn’t reciprocate my feelings. I was wrong, things moved quickly, they had to I was moving out of his life in less than a month.

I was house sitting for a friend, and after spending some time together during the day, he invited me to a friend’s house to have an antenna welded onto his pickup truck. It ended up raining and ironically I think a small tornado went through our neighborhood. He dropped his kids off at the movie theatre and asked if he could drop by for a visit. At 34, I am entirely naïve still, I figured we could watch a movie or hang out. I laugh now looking back, I knew things were getting intense with us but I was not use to men actually wanting to have sex with me. Kissing lead to a kind of passion I certainly wasn’t familiar with and then terror set into my mind. I whispered, “I haven’t showered since this morning, do you want me to go shower?” needless to say he was taken aback, but he giggled “So?” In some ways, I would have almost preferred that he would have said, “Sure, jump in the shower” because it would have eased the panic I was feeling. However, at the same time I was feeling like my heart might beat out of my chest, or he too might refuse to have sex with me once we got naked and down to business, I was enamored with this man who was making me feel “normal” for the first time ever. I can honestly say I had never had sex with anyone without showering at least an hour prior. Thanks to movies, and the fact that I never saw couples dashing off to the shower prior to throwing each other up against the wall and going at it, I knew in my mind showering first wasn’t normal.

I really liked this guy and I think he really liked me (he had already begged me not to move and to stay with him), and I trusted him, so I tried to put my trepidation away and went toward the light of “normalcy”. It was amazing. The way he looked into my eyes while we were making love, melted my heart. Now I know, I know, I am a girl and I just said “making love", ick right?. I had had a very few “fuck partners” in recent times, but I had never had anyone look at me like that. That kind of emotion while having sex was something completely novel to me. On top of that, he told me during the duration how beautiful I was, also a something I was not use to. And to top it off, after he was done, he flipped me over and gently kissed down my back. I think that was the moment I started to completely fall for him. He didn’t fly up, push me off and rush into the bathroom to shower or clean up. He wanted to continue to please me.

I didn't know sex could be totally satisfying, it felt remarkable, it lasted longer than 5 minutes and it wasn’t just about him. He actually cared what I thought, how I felt and encouraged me to be involved in the whole process. He talked to me and looked at me the entire time! Garth was right! My mom, as she often is, was wrong (and yes I am going straight to hell, but I am happy for the first time ever).

Sex with him, has only gotten better, I don’t know how you can get better than astounding but each time we are together I am flabbergasted, stunned and amazed. I have done things in the last few months that I didn’t know were physically possible. He is always kind and loving and although I am sure it has to be dissatisfying to be with a 34 year old virgin all the time, he never ever gives me the impression that he feels that way. He always seems as satisfied as I am. I think maybe it’s due to the abuse, or maybe it is who I am, but I am always excited and willing to try new things. I never need anyone else, I am totally satisfied because he has totally given himself to me.

I do feel sorry for my boyfriend. I warned him before we got serious that 16 years of abstinence left me ravenous now. I would have sex 3 times a day with him if I could. I would be happy to do it first thing in the morning, when he gets home from work and before bed. I am sure sometimes I am exhausting and overly animated whenever I think there is a possibility of getting lucky. But I am sure his friends would agree that there are worse things than having a hot sexy woman wanting to rip your clothes off all the time.

Originally, I said I wanted to date and to break a few hearts and get my heart broken, so I could experience life. I was wrong. I realize now, I am living and I have found happiness and “normalcy”. I still have my moments when I am not normal, I am still plenty naïve, and he knows I am damaged goods but each day this man continues to love me I am one day closer to the pure ecstasy of being able to live with him for the rest of my life.

“Yes, sex is always the answer it’s never a question, ‘cause the answer’s yes, oh the answer’s YES!”

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Facebook; a Weapon of Mass Destruction

I love Facebook. Admittedly I spend too much time on there, checking out what my friends are doing and who’s dating whom. I have found friends I haven’t seen since the 3rd grade! It is amazing and entertaining to see how people have changed and what people are doing. I even like most of the applications. I enjoy hugging my friends and sending silly kisses or smiles to people who I think need them, or for a giggle. I must admit I even get a good belly laugh from the “Send a Sperm” application, nothing quite like getting a biker chick sperm to cheer me up. Shamefully, I must admit I even enjoy some of the quizzes, finding out what my Scandinavian Stripper Name would be, and finding out when I will get married or when I will die was a waste of time, yes, but it had its enjoyable moments and a snigger, mostly because I am slotted to die before I ever get remarried.

Some people get addicted to the games. Apparently this is such a fad, I heard one lady was totally forsaking her family so she could play Farmville and tend her fake crops in her fake garden on her fake farm and was so “at a loss as to what to do” she had to go on the Dr. Phil show so that he could tell her to plant a real garden. I mean you don’t have to be a psychologist or psychiatrist or whatever kind of quack Dr. Phil is to tell someone to grow up and fix dinner for their family. I am not much of a gamer, I enjoy the occasional Wii fitness game, bobbing those shoes and hitting those soccer balls with my ugly avatar Wii head can be a fine waste of time too, but I just can’t get into computer video games. Maybe I am too dumb to understand them, but none-the-less they don’t captivate my attention. And, whereas I wish that people would stop sending me cigars in Mafia Wars (come on people I don’t even smoke) or Tigers in Zoo World, it is all pretty easy to delete the stuff that just irritates me.

Mostly I like hearing about people’s milestones, celebrating their achievements, and even mourning their losses with them. It’s funny actually I am closer with some of these people now than I was in high school. Some of them I don’t remember, although they seem to remember me, some of that I blame on my stroke and sometimes I think they are just being nice. I have even had former school mates contact me when they have a behavior problem with their dog, or questions about animal health. I giggle to find out that some of them live within an hour or two of me, even though I live half a country away from my hometown, and I like hearing what is going on back home. Hearing about the weather, or the old neighborhood makes me feel somehow strangely connected to a life I once knew. I even find it interesting to see what everyone has made of themselves. The people I thought would be successful from a business standpoint often aren’t and some I thought hated school are quite well educated and successful now. I think Facebook can be an amazing place and I enjoy reconnecting and getting to know new people as well.

I love posting things when I am excited about an accomplishment and having people cheer me on. I beam when people comment on my pictures. When I ran my first race, I came home and immediately went to Facebook to share my crucial moment with my friends. I love when people post comments it makes me feel good that they care enough to keep up with what is going down in my life. I am even fond of people giving me the “thumbs up” when they like my wit, charm, perseverance, my advice, or whatever I am experiencing. I share even when I am sad because my friends have a way of cheering me up or sharing a similar experience with me, and I think that is essential to good mental health. Don’t get me wrong, I have “real” non-cyber friends too, to relish life with but I like my cyber buddies as well. And, I love it when my boyfriend posts love notes, I tell him it’s like getting flowers delivered at the office, I like that my friends can see how romantic my boyfriend is and how in love we are with each other. I am proud of my relationships and the bonds that I have made!

What I don’t understand are the people who specifically use Facebook as a secret weapon, or as some kind of weird competition. A weapon of mass destruction I like to call it, see now if only George Bush had looked on Facebook he would found what he was looking for all those years. A little history for you who don’t have Facebook, your friends are often connected. I know Bill who knows Susan who also knows me who knows Peter who I went to school with…you get the idea. So when one of these passive aggressive people decides to make a defaming and/or derogatory remark about someone who is admittedly on their list, the remark is seen by everyone who is connected to that one person and the people who share a friend’s connection. So, if Susan had a bad date with Bill and says he is a horrible kisser, or she thinks he’s gay, or he is a horrible husband or father, not only do her friends see it, so does Bill and all of the friends he shares with Susan, and sometimes his children. This is a wicked way to get any point across to anyone. People should be ashamed for stooping so low.

I absolutely hate passive aggressive behavior. I guess one of the reasons is because I work with animals and children and neither usually understand passive aggressive behavior. “Because Rex didn’t do it right I am going to give all the other dogs in the class a cookie”, or “I am going to try and embarrass him in front of his furry friends, that will teach him a lesson”. I like a direct approach. If you have a problem with someone specifically, go to that person and share your grievance. If it is not handled to the point that you think is appropriate, then break ties and un-friend them, or seek another solution. YIKES, you gasp? Yes, I said it un-friend them. But don’t spend your time thinking of all the hideous things you can say about someone publicly and then post them for the world to see, this only makes you look like a bitter ass. It seriously takes someone (who is in need of a grave hobby, maybe they should try Farmville) and someone who is wicked to do such a nasty thing. It use to be you could “pants” someone on the playground, now I guess that childish behavior is reserved for publicly humiliation and lies on Facebook.

I personally don’t care, to be brought into someone’s drama and most people don’t want to read your trash. I read enough garbage and grotesque news in the papers and on the internet, when I go to Facebook I want to get pleasure from my relationships, not to be ashamed of people’s childish behaviors. If you want to sling mud, creep back into the swamp where you belong.

Tony Horton, I hate him, but I love him


February is heart health month. Personally, I think we should have heart health year in our country. Perhaps we should set aside a day as “Heart Health Day” so banks, and the government can have another day to shut down and still get paid! I am often reminded I am in the wrong business. But all kidding aside, did you know that heart disease is the number one killer in America? It is also the number one killer of women, and far surpasses any other disease, including breast cancer. At some point we need to realize we are in charge of our destiny, and how we treat our bodies has a direct affect on the length of our lives.

I had a stroke at 21. Most people are stunned and gasp when I share that with them. No one knows why I had a stroke, even the doctors couldn’t answer my questions or really even give me advice. But in all honesty, I am not such a small percentage of Americans. It is not common, but it is also not uncommon. My uncle had a heart attack and crashed through his windshield (he was sitting on his car) when he was 17. I guess when it comes to heart health, I have bad genetics.

When I was in the fourth grade in art class, I got my first migraine headache. I lost total vision in my left eye, but as a child I was terrified to actually tell anyone. I thought I was going blind, but I didn’t want to go to the doctor (I still feel this way about the doctor). It was such a major incident that I even remember that we were drawing our houses that day, and I, the artist, was unable to even finish my picture. The memory and even the smells of the room are seared into my brain. I started getting regular migraines again just after I got married at 18. I went to the eye doctor to make sure it was nothing visual that was causing my loss of vision and ended up at my general practitioner. Sometimes I think doctors don’t think before they open their mouths, and they become numb to people’s feelings. I sat in the doctor’s office to hear him say my symptoms were characteristic of a brain tumor----but they couldn’t get me in for an MRI for at least 2 weeks. I wouldn’t wish that terror on anyone. Those were the most miserable 2 weeks of my life. Everything that happened I wondered if it was a direct result of a growing brain tumor. When I went in for my MRI, I was strong although petrified and after we left I got a call, it was an emergency they had “found something” and I had to come back in and be injected with dye so that they could better assess what was found. Again panic struck, they gave me a CD player this time to ease the shaking and the fear I felt. They had Garth Brooks “No Fences” and still to this day the sound of “The Thunder Rolls” makes me want to vomit because it takes me back to that coffin that they call an MRI. Do you know you can lay flat on your back with your hands on your chest and if you lift your fingers up, you can feel the top of the machine? It is a horrifying feeling, and you can barely move or you will have to endure the process again. My general practitioner then reviewed my scans and lied to me, and denied they had seen anything.

I wouldn’t find out until 3 years later at a neurologist post stroke that I did indeed have a brain tumor. Don’t panic, it appears to be benign, but I could have used some honesty about that “found something” MRI years before. The stroke was a small one, thank goodness, but when faced with the words “brain tumor” I think that was all I heard that day. I wanted to curl up and cry, but that wouldn’t do any good. It actually took me three weeks to go to the doctor (because I hate doctors..no offense to anyone..I have just had bad experiences) after I had my stroke, I tried to deny what I knew in my heart had happened. I felt myself go numb, but it was a small stroke so I didn’t have the muscle impairment that most people suffer. However, I lost my ability to read and sometimes to speak coherently. I tried to tell myself that I was over worked and under paid and I just needed to rest, but I was scared. Even the day that I found out I had, had a stroke and a brain tumor, I went to work. In my mind, there was no time to mourn, because if I took that time, I might not stop mourning.

So life goes on. I am suppose to have an MRI every few years to make sure my tumor doesn’t grow. The only way to “prove” it is benign is to have brain surgery and I opted not to be that radical. Right after I had the stroke for several months maybe a year, I recognized how short life was and learned to enjoy each day. But, like all cynics I sometimes let the bad parts of life take over and forgot that each day is a celebration. After all, I COULD HAVE DIED that day or worse I could be in a nursing home brain dead or trapped in a body that is unable to move on its own but not really brain dead.

For a while during my miserable marriage, I got to the point I didn’t care. Live or die, I was despondent anyway. Don’t get me wrong, most of the time I wasn’t suicidal, although I did have some dark thoughts at some moments, I am not selfish enough to ever take my own life. I have seen what suicide does to family and friends. But, I didn’t really care about my existence, I tried to wrap myself up in my work so I didn’t have to face reality most of the time, but that is no way to live.

So I began working out and changing my life to beat stress at first. Working out gives you confidence, you just can’t deny the benefits of a good work out. Even though I am genetically programmed toward depression, I swear to you, you cannot be getting your body ripped and be gloomy.

I now have found true love. He loves me the way I am, I don’t think it matters to him if I have six pack abs or I am storing a bagel around my midsection. He loves me for me, so don’t get me wrong, he is not cracking some kind of whip my way. But, because I am so truly and deeply in love, I actually want to live as long as possible. I am genetically programmed toward heart disease, the number one killer of Americans and women it must be like the fear of breast cancer running in your family. I am also sadly prone to Alzheimer’s disease. But, I am realizing I have some control of my destiny. I am here learning how to extend my own life and hopefully the lives of those I love too, by cooking right, eating right and exercise.

Enter Tony Horton and P90X. I do hate him, he makes every muscle in my body ache. Last week I ran 6 miles, biked 5 miles and then did P90X. I was so sore the next day I thought I was going to have to scoot across the carpet using only my lips (the only muscles that weren’t sore) to the bathroom. Then I considered the throbbing pain of just buckling down and running into the kitchen to grab some kind of bed pan for the day and probably the next. Okay, I admit it THAT WAS CRAZY, lesson learned! I am finding some kind of middle ground now.

Tony has taken the “low impact” out of exercise routines. I am not your average girl, the wimpy gyms like “curves” and the like don’t ring my bell. I enjoy the kind of exercise that builds muscle and brings tears to my eyes, and Tony does that for me for sure. Unlike “Pink” who admitted on Oprah last week to having to mute him while she works out, I love Tony. With phrases like “Bring It” and “Do your best, and forget the rest” I feel motivated. He is silly, yes, dorky…yes, but so am I! The point is, I like the high impact, it is good for not only my muscles, but my most important muscle, my heart. So yes, I will become ripped, like he says but most of all each time I meet him in my living room and I give him all I’ve got, I lower my chances of dying of another stroke or heart attack, or even Alzheimer’s. I am determined to change my destiny and live in bliss with the man I love (not Tony Horton)!

So thank you Tony and P90X for giving me the motivation I need to stay alive and beat the odds that are against me every day. You lower my stress, my blood pressure, your dorky-ness makes me giggle, and I know this exercise is also lowering my cholesterol, and lowering the age my body thinks it is.

To those of you who are also human, get serious, find your workout groove. Do it for yourself, do it for your lover, do it for your children. Get yourself healthy. Heart health month is the perfect time to go out and pick up those Shape Up shoes (yes they do work!) and hit the pavement, shut off your TV and get on out there! Do what you can to lower your risks of heart disease, your body and your mind will thank you!! And, if you have it in you, get P90X, it is the funnest most serious work out I have ever experienced it will work all of your muscles and I guarantee if you do it for 90 day, you too will be RIPPED!!

Tony, I hate you, but I love you!

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Navy Life


I should admit from the start; I have a bit of an obsessive compulsive nature. When I do something, I usually go at it full force for say… a while! I eat, drink, sleep and breathe whatever it is and this is when I am always glad that I don’t really drink. When I was in elementary school it was Scooby Doo, he was my idol, and I wanted a dog so very badly, but sadly my father hated dogs. In junior high and high school it was Joe Montana and the San Francisco 49ers, I knew the whole team and all of their stats. Yes I was a tomboy. I can thank Dan Dierdorff and John Madden for my knowledge of football. I spent many Sundays sitting alone on my couch at home trying to figure out why the quarter back didn’t play offense AND defense, learning what offense and defense meant and deeper things like “leg sweeping” and “holding” wasn’t nearly as romantic as it sounds. At one point it was KISS, and for the past decade it has been Bon Jovi. I guess I need a focal point, something to put my unused pent up energy, love and adoration toward. I don’t think I was ever really loved as a child and my first marriage, if you have read my blog, was a bust. I am happy to report that I am still deeply and crazy in love and most of my OCD goes into my adoration of the man that loves me and puts up with my personality quirks.

Enter the US Navy, they just can’t seem to understand that when I am profoundly in love like this, it is unfair to take away the object of my OCD love and desire. Personally, it is sad to admit because I like to think that the world revolves around me, but the Navy doesn’t care about me. So during our relationship they are constantly taking him out to sea for weeks at a time, most of the time with advanced notice, but sometimes without.

This separation is very difficult for me. When he and I were starting our relationship, I ran away from my ex-husband to get divorced and to live with my sister in Utah for a few short months. Most of the time I was gone, he was at sea, but there were a few weeks that he was alone and without me, like I am when he is working. He was so sad and lonely for me, we talked on the phone in the mornings and at night and he would send me videos, and I could tell it broke his heart that I was not by his side. This is exactly how I feel now. I realize he has a job to do and has been doing it very well for the past 20 years. I am not sure that he typically misses me as much when he is gone, because he is use to the routine, he has work to do and I have never spent time in his locker or in his rack ha ha. Whereas for me; the bedroom, the sofa, riding my motorcycle, spending time in the car, or even trying to party with friends reminds me of him. He is everywhere and yet he is gone.

Thankfully, for my sanity, he is retiring from the Navy and is currently on his last deployment. I don’t think we have ever spent more than 3 weeks apart up until now. He has been gone for 5 now. One of the last things he said to me as I kissed his sweet lips when he left was that the first month was the hardest and then I would get into the groove. I hoped that he was right, but deep down I knew that I loved him way too much for the pain to be eased by the passing of a month. Honestly I was proud of myself, I was doing really well. I didn’t lose control of all bodily function as I left him on the ship that morning (not one tear in front of him) and I was plodding along through life waiting to find out when they would be sending him home for retirement.

As is always the case, he was promised that at the first port they would drop him off and fly him home to start his retirement. That meant that he would be gone about 2 months and then he would get to come home to me. Two months, I thought, I am strong I can handle that! But last week I found out that they are going to keep him an extra month and a half or more.

Depression runs in my family. My father spent most of his life on antidepressants, now I realize mostly due to my mother, but none the less he, my sister, my mother (although she would die before she admitted it) and I have all had bouts of depression. I know this about myself. I tried to prepare for his leaving by finding a part time job so that I would have a peer group and friends, but even that back fired. His son left to live with his mother and I was left all alone at home. This is not a good set up for someone with depressive traits.

But, how can I be depressed? I am completely and totally consumed by the love of my life. He chats with me via computer in the morning and at night before bed and sends me text messages throughout the day to tell me he loves me. My life revolves around the love I feel for him and the happiness he brings to me. I decided I could focus on the distance or I could focus on our love and the hope of building a lifetime together. But I also knew deep down that I needed a constructive hobby.

After he had been gone a week or two, I decided to have some very R-rated pictures of myself taken on his motorcycle, so that he could have something to remember me by while he was gone. I have a decent body, but I dare anyone to take naked pictures of themselves and not notice flaws. This was the motivation I needed. I began exercising and running. I am not running for him, although I hope he reaps the many benefits and likes my new body when he gets home. He loves me unconditionally, he would be happy if I stayed home and remained the same, and I am going out on a limb here but I think he would even love me if I ate a bag of Cheetos a day until he came home. Some days I would like to pick the Cheetos! He has only expressed that he doesn’t want to come home to an unhealthy or skinny girlfriend, which as I have stated before I think is nearly impossible for me.

I ran my first 5 mile race last weekend. I was invited on Friday and ran the race on Saturday. I had not been training specifically for racing, I had just been exercising, and I would have preferred a 5k (3.1 miles) to 5 miles but I also knew I couldn’t wimp out with 1 mile. So I took a leap and ran alone for 5 miles. I have never felt stronger or more proud in my life than when I crossed the finish line. I had found the strength to leave my ex-husband, start a new relationship and run a race within the last year. Admittedly there was some walking, some singing, some wheezing and some giggling along the way and I definitely have room to improve but the experience was earth shattering. This is just what I needed to encourage and enable my OCD tendencies plus I think it is impossible to be depressed when you are getting "ripped"!

So I have found my niche, at least until he returns. Hopefully I will continue training when he comes home, because I love the benefits and can already see a change in my body. Now, I rise in the morning talk to my sexy sailor for an hour or two, go running for a few miles, go on a bike ride and then sometimes I workout with Tony Horton and his “bring the pain” P90X, (but I recommend not doing all of these at once, or trust me you won’t be able to walk for a few days). Happiness and some good pain abounds now. Last week I felt helpless that our time apart was going to be doubled, but this week I realize that just gives me a little extra time to get the body of my and his dreams!

I’m thinking of saying, “welcome home honey, wanna bounce a quarter off my abs?”

Love Thy Neighbor


“Love Thy neighbor” this quote comes straight out of the bible, the book of Mark, as I recall. Isn’t this also a part of the Golden Rule? I take these bible passages literal, I am trying to climb the stairs straight up to heaven, so I figured I would start here first.

In the past blog, I mentioned innocently joining a website I thought was intended for reconnecting with people from my past, especially those I had endured pre-pubescence and full on pubescence with; my high school pack. Please don’t think I am completely insane, this was not an adults only friend finder kind of spot, there were boundless amounts of children’s accounts, and for some reason I thought that gave it clout. I was duped into believing this was a site of virtue.. okay maybe not virtue, but I didn’t realize it was a sexually charged meat market Mecca.

At first, I uploaded a picture of my three dogs, awww, adorable right? So for a few months I got hardly any hits, no one from high school found me. I think I had 3 pity friends. One night I was bored and my sister had recently taken pictures of me on my new Harley Rocker C so I decided maybe if I put up pictures my old friends would recognize me. I uploaded some very tasteful face shots of me on my new shiny bike. By morning, I had hundreds of hits to my profile and scads of friend’s requests. At first I was taken aback, this was not what I expected or what I wanted. I let my profile sit for several days while I contemplated how to handle this new found adoration.

My husband barely ever touched me, even in the beginning of our relationship. Once we went over 2 years without having sex. He simply was not interested in sex, or sex with me, or women…well, I am really not sure what the root of the problem is or was, but I had always blamed myself. I felt that I wasn’t pretty enough, skinny enough or good enough for a man, even my husband, to want me. He reiterated the fact that he was disgusted by me throughout our 16 year marriage and I took him at his word that it was my fault and that all men would feel that way.

So, I was astonished that men were attracted to a simple modest picture of me. I considered deleting the site, but I must confess I liked the attention. Actually, I thrived on the attention and after a few days it was like a drug. In the beginning, I had my real name and city and my website listed (remember I thought this was a friends finding friends site). I met a couple of very nice men and enjoyed sending casual messages back and forth, but I also had masses of mail from men who only had one thing on their mind. Quickly, I came up with a pen name and my alter ego that desired attention emerged. Then, I deleted any way I could be traced to the site. I could not afford to be recognized; I was well known throughout my community my name is VERY unique and I was still married but gaining the strength and confidence to plot my escape. I took some PG-13 rated pictures of my abs, rump and legs with my webcam and posted them. “If pictures of my face worked, what would a little skin do?” I wondered. Sure enough, I got 1,000 times the attention (at one point being in the top 500 popularity of thousands of people). Men were buying my pictures and vying for my attention. I quickly came up with rules of engagement. I would only talk to men that were married, or men that were geographically too far away to be of concern. I now laugh at my ignorance and stupidity, it seemed rational at the time and I couldn’t afford for someone to recognize my alter ego at Wal-mart or the mall.

There was one man I broke all the rules for, we became friends and chatted from the very beginning. He had noticed the pictures of me on my Harley, back when I had my REAL information posted. I think his first message asked if I was just sitting atop the bike for a photo op or if I could ride it. What he didn’t know, was that I am not your average girl. I am a tomboy, of course it was my bike and I rode! To assume anything else took away cool points I had worked very hard to gain! Then, he began asking me to go on rides with him and his friends. At first I made excuses, I was already breaking my rules of engagement for him, but I still didn’t want to complicate my life by having to explain how we met. Plus I knew how devastated he would be when he met the real naïve, quiet, insecure “me” and not my sexy outgoing alter ego.

He was in the Navy and we would send each other short messages occasionally. Eventually he gave me the email to reach him on his ship when he was gone and I confessed to being unhappily married. He assured me that this was group riding he was inviting me out on and that there were other women in the group and other married members, and although I felt better about it, I was nervous. At one point, he posted a comment on one of the pictures of my face saying he liked it better than any of the ones of my body. The vast majority of the men posted comments on pictures of my body, or the “hot” pictures of me. This guy liked a simple picture of my profile and me smiling, and unlike 95% of men, he also never asked me to send him naked pictures of myself. In February, he noticed a picture of a new tattoo I had recently gotten down my back and we began conversing again, but when looking at his profile, I noticed he was knee deep in a relationship and I didn’t want to complicate his life or mine. However, he continued to send me messages and invite me on motorcycle rides.

February was when I decided to design my flight from my husband and my broken marriage. I picked a date in mid May, my selfish mother knew that I would be leaving my husband and that I was unhappy but she insisted to have one last visit to the South and to the beach. In less than 2 weeks of my mother leaving, I would pack my things and be gone. My sister had agreed to let me come and live with her and her family in Utah, half way across the country, and she would help me get on my feet. I am a planner. I am not spontaneous, part of me loathes spontaneity, I like knowing where I am going to be and with whom I am going to be with way before any event. So, I began planning and getting everything that I would need together for my secret departure.

In April, I received a message from my internet friend. He had light heartedly referred to being in my city that day and if he had known where I lived, he would have come and gotten me to ride. I giggled to myself, although my address is technically in that city I live almost 10 miles away. Casually I inquired as to where he lived. My rules of engagement didn’t matter now I was going to be gone in less than a month. To my surprise he admitted to living just down the street and around the corner. I laughed, how ironic, WE WERE NEIGHBORS! I had run past his house many times and had probably even waved to him. I sent him a message saying “You could, or I could just walk down the street”. So I did. I leashed up my dog and walked down to his house.

We got along fantastically from the start. Knowing he was in the Navy and an early riser, I hesitantly admitted my plan and I asked if he would help me pack the truck. He agreed. The next day, after casually texting he invited me for a drink but in order to gain admittance he referred to me as his wife. The rest is history! Within 5 days, he was begging me to stay and not to move. Remember, please, how I feel about spontaneity and I had spent months cleverly devising my plan of escape and had a new life lined up in Utah. At first, I said no. To which he asked if he could fly to Utah to date me and I agreed. How could I stay in the same neighborhood I had once lived with my husband, how could I live with someone I barely knew?

We have spent almost every day together since that first day, he was very persistent ha ha. We were best friends and soul-mates immediately, it simply felt natural to be with him like I had known him all my life. Although my mother has now disowned me, I am thankful that because of her selfishness I was in the right place at the right time. I could not help it, life and love were entering my life and although I had shut off all my emotions to endure all those years of a deplorable marriage and this was not in my plan I recognized that what I was feeling for this man was true and honest and good. I couldn’t walk away from that. We agreed that I would move in with my sister for a few months while things settled down, he would come and visit me, and then I would come and live with him.

I realize now, I had never been in love with my ex-husband. My mother forced both of us into marriage. I was 16 when he proposed and he was 19 neither of us ready to make a commitment. Actually I have never been in love. But now I have been blessed and I have found true love and my soul mate! I have never felt like this before. He consumes my thoughts not only when we are together but also when we are apart. He is the first thing on my mind when I wake and the last thing at night and he is always in my dreams at night. I cannot imagine my life without him in it. I would do anything to love this man and to be with him for the rest of my life and into the next.

So I figure this is a good bible passage for me…. “Love Thy Neighbor”…well, yes thank you I will! I will work on improving my adherence to other commandments soon!

Thursday, September 17, 2009

My Nose the Nipple

We briefly discussed the state of my nose in the last blog. Suffice it to say, I have always hated it. It is petite and turned up on the end. My revulsion to it is because you can see up it while looking at me, straight on. I have always had a little bit of the “Miss Piggy” sense about it and am constantly worried that I might have a “visitor” which a friend of mine use to refer to as a booger. It is slightly round on the tip, but not in a horribly bulbous way. Most people don’t even notice really, and some envy my little nose but as of late, there is no getting around “noticing it” especially at the gym.

A few weeks ago, while I was out running errands I noticed a “Free Kittens” sign. Now, I know there is no such thing as a “free” pet, I have worked with animals for years and understand the commitment involved, but I had also never been this long without the companionship of a cat. Most people think I am a dog person, outwardly that is the impression I give off, however, I am a cat worshiper. I had spoken with my boyfriend about the possibilities of welcoming a new furry feline into my life, and he had quickly voiced his disgust and abhorrence for cats. For several weeks, I had let the matter go instead I chose to get along, especially since this is a new relationship. Did I mention he is a sailor and he was at sea when I spotted the life altering sign? I couldn’t defy my longing for the camaraderie and love of a kitten. I stopped, telling myself I would “look” and the rest is history!

She was 8 weeks old and wandered out of a dog crate and climbed my leg purring. I think it was the purring that completely sold me. They have proven that just petting an animal can lower your blood pressure. I am certain that being anywhere near a vibrating kitten can almost put you into a coma of pure happiness.

It wasn’t long before he found out. Why is it that cats have an affinity for computer keyboards? The next day while leisurely chatting with him on-line, our regular norm while he is at sea, she pounced across my keyboard and hit “enter”. He was certain that either I had just had a seizure, or I had gotten a cat. I thought long and hard about trying to convince him of the first scenario, but I figured he would eventually notice her blurred furry body dashing about the house and flying onto any passing dinner plate. Thank goodness he loves me; because his utter disgust and outrage was short lived admitting that he knew that my desire was so great it was only a matter of time before the house was abuzz with the sounds of a kitten.

Now, onto my dilemma, at 8 weeks I assumed she would be fully and happily weaned. However she has an attraction to my nose, to suckle on in the wee hours of the night. I should not feel to overwhelmed, or conscientious about the state of my life long hated nose, because indeed I have found her attached to the dog’s back, and even once eyeing his penis as a possible nipple, but somehow this does not totally squelch my apprehension and distress at the notion that I am walking around with what resembles a nipple on my face. Unfortunately, due to my unbreakable sleeping patterns I often don’t wake up until way into the suckling and kneading process and I awaken to find her tiny lips and sharp teeth wrapped around the end of my nose. I find this disturbing on a number of levels, however the worst of which is that after weeks of this process, and despite the fact that I pluck her from my face immediately, I am beginning to illustrate a small red ring around the tip of my nose, a kitten hickey, if you will. The irony of the situation is that the more often she suckles the tip of it at night, the more it really does begin to give the impression of being like a nipple, or at least “nipple like”.

Thank goodness I am a woman, and there is make-up, not specifically designed for such an incident (unless there are others out there??) but it works fabulously to mostly disguise it until I go to the gym or sweat in the summer’s sun. Try explaining that to your friends without being committed or condemned to some kind of pervert’s ward for the mistreatment of cats.

video

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Starting Over




I am attractive, definitely above average, maybe not the face that launched a thousand ships, but close. I am blonde, with almond shaped blue eyes that have a deep indigo ring around a pale sky blue. My nose is minute and slightly turned up on the end, the kind of nose that most people request at the plastic surgeon’s office. However, I have always hated my nose. People tell me that I am a mix between Nicole Kidman and Charlize Theron, I try to convince myself that they are not just speaking of my fair complexion. Thank goodness for Nicole Kidman, she has made the pale white china doll complexion an “in” thing. I hated my high school days, when brown and only brown was beautiful. I only have versions of insipid white. When I am blessed enough to be tanned, I am the color most people are in winter.

I am out of most men’s league, yet I find myself deploring my very existence and my looks will never be good enough for me. I have an athletic build. I am German and Irish so tall and lanky was not in my genetic pool of options. I am like my old Rottweiler, even when he didn’t exercise you could still see the definition of his muscles. I will never appeal to men who want a tall skinny girl, because I will never be skinny, I don’t think I could be even if I starved myself. I always wanted to be tall, and thin but I am lucky to achieved the height I have. At 5’5 I am tall for my family. My poor sister was cursed with 4’11. At least, I am “average” and can buy average pants at the store. I am not condemned to shop in the petite section.

When I was a teenager, the boys flocked to me. I use to play football with them after school and hang out with them. It wasn’t till I got older that I realized why they liked to grab and tackle me! I have always been one of the guys, but I have also always turned heads. I don’t think I realized that until recently, I was always very self conscious and introverted. You see, I have never been good enough, not for my family, and certainly not for me. So I always wanted to be just another face in the crowd to blend in and not be noticed. I never dated in high school. I was a “terminal flirt” and had lots and lots of guy friends, but I also never wanted to be tied down to anyone. So it is ironic to admit that I got married at 18. How did that happen? My mother insisted on marrying me off, and when she found the perfect minion of a boy and convinced him to propose to me at 16 the rest, well, it is history. Not admittedly a good, history but a history at that, and time cannot be stopped. You can’t simply go back and change things. I have learned you have to accept your time and your history for what it is and accept it but most of all to learn from it, but often that is not as easy as it sounds.

So here I am at 34, a large chunk of my life wasted in a loveless marriage trying to learn how to “be” again. My sister’s therapist says I am emotionally 18 in many ways, because I was married so young and controlled so easily throughout my life. I have not experienced life like most people. I came from a very religious family (although I do not blame religion for my woes), so unlike most teenagers my age I married as the vigilant virgin. That is what my parents expected and because of the abuse I suffered as a child and watched my sister suffer, I did whatever they wanted. So I feel like the virgin 18 year old, still looking for acceptance and trying to figure out how to have a normal relationship at my age and with my lack of experience. I don’t think I can contemplate what “normal” really is much less, achieve, it. Although, some kind of normalcy seems to be my ultimate goal right now, that and learning who I am and how to live with and love myself unconditionally.

Deep down, I know I am beautiful, gorgeous in fact. Within the last year, a friend has taught me much about myself and my capacity to captivate men. For 16 years I was persuaded how unattractive I was, and I was informed that I would never be able to do better than him. I believed him, I simply didn’t have the experience to doubt him, I had never even dated. Then one day, this man enters my life and begins to tell me how utterly gorgeous I am. At first, I thought he was completely insane, or that he had ulterior motives. And then, I began to listen to him. I started to see myself differently in the mirror. I began running to beat the years of depression and the stress in my life. Instead of wearing XL T-shirts and men’s jeans I started to wear things that actually fit me and hugged my curves. I could see the flicker in men’s eyes as I passed; and I liked it. The more I cared about the way I looked, and paid attention the more interest I got and I realized perhaps he wasn’t irrational after all.

He sent me to a website online, one of those sights I thought was to find people you had gone to school with. At first I posted a picture of my dogs, they were who I thought I was, and what made me proud. Then one boring evening I posted a modest picture of myself on my motorcycle. Men flocked. I had a few hundred hits within the night. I was intrigued, to say the very least. I posted more pictures of me and began to chat with some of them, some totally creepy and some nice but most where somewhere in between those categories. I realized this website was a total meat market. At first I admit I was taken aback at the thought of men looking at me like that, then I realized my husband for 16 years had been wrong. I was striking, just a picture of my face was bringing these men running to my profile. When I began posting pictures of my body the hits came 10 fold. I was learning what men like.

You scoff. Most people know what men like, it’s obvious right? Not for a 34 year old virgin. I have years of learning to catch up on! Remember my quest for normalcy, well, this was a beginning. I don’t think I mentioned in my 16 years of married bliss, my husband never wanted to have sex. I was treated like I had a disease. I was completely undesirable to him. I blamed myself, who else could take the blame? He made it obvious to me that this was normal, and that I didn’t deserve better. Who, after all, would want me? So I plodded through life, not adored, respected or trusted. So I have a lot to learn, A LOT TO LEARN about life, love, and yes… sex. Learning what men like, what they don’t like, what turns them on, how to push their buttons and get what I want is all completely novel to me.

I mean really, how do you sell yourself as a 34 year old virgin? Not only is this pathetic it is demeaning and demoralizing, it is kind of scary in the world in which we live. But one thing is for sure it is definitely NOT normal. So, how do you hide this tragic flaw? Trust me, learning all this information is not easy. And, reading about things on the internet is a start, but text has its limitations. It certainly doesn’t make me feel comfortable about life and love out in the real world, not to mention sex!

So I spent a year working on myself, and my self esteem. Running as often as time would allot for, and watching what I ate and experimenting with my feminine wiles. As I write this, I am still experimenting. I imagine it is a lifetime of learning and experimentation, and some things I will just be awkward at despite my best efforts, for quite some time.

I finally got the nerve to leave the bastard. I had it all planned out, down to the last detail. I would wait till he had gone to work and pack my things and leave town. My sister came out and we “Thelma and Louise’d” our way across the country. More on this later I am sure.

So here I am 34, waiting for him to stop fighting the inevitable divorce, and getting ready to start a new life, hopefully a life without boundaries, a happy life and one that I can be proud of as I grow old. I am hoping and praying that I can love myself and learn to accept my flaws. I am hoping that someday I can tell myself I am beautiful both inside and out and mean it whole heartedly.

Blogging is suppose to be cathartic, and I need good cheap therapy, because with no health care and getting divorce, I certainly can’t afford it. So I write for myself mostly, but perhaps in my writing I might find some other “abnormal” person who feels the way I feel or who has been through some of the struggles I have faced and will face and perhaps they can find inspiration, or at least learn a lesson of what “not” to do from me.

Life is a journey, not a destination and I am learning to enjoy the journey while I learn who I am and what I stand for. I am desperately trying not to fall into the same pitfalls that got me where I am today, but I realize that true change is difficult, very, very difficult and that getting over a lifetime of abuse mental, physical, and emotional is daring, to say the least. But, although some days I deplore my reflection in the mirror and my very existence, I also realize how very strong I am. I left the bastard, didn’t I? Thankfully, time I have and a few choice people who can support me in my new endeavors. So today, I am thankful, happy and excited for a new world, a new me, new mistakes, and new blessings.

I don’t know that my blogs will have a theme, maybe eventually, as I learn and grow and decipher myself. But, I will delve into the depths of my psyche and find a way to express what I am feeling and discuss my history and new beginning, my joys, my triumphs, and my defeats because I have learned one thing for sure about life, you have to learn to accept defeat!