Sex: Then and Now

Picture from www.sodahead.com

Its been said when a woman reaches her forties her sex drive increases. Without getting into details I’ve found it to be true, but I don’t know if it’s a biological thing or a psychological shift.

Sex just wasn’t fun for me when I was younger. It was serious business. I had extraordinarily high moral expectations. It was all about love and feelings. It was supposed to be magical and mean something.

Gag.

In reality it was all awkward and embarrassing. I was a chubby girl with an insane fascination for bad boy musicians. Do you see the conflict here? Instead of settling for the math geeks who wanted to date me, I stood my ground insisting on a bad boy with long hair, preferably in a band with a sexy snarl who wrote music that would sing to my soul.

You can stop laughing now.

I was deep. A fat girl with standards. A rare breed.

I spent all my high school years waiting for them to realize the skinny, easy girls couldn’t satisfy them emotionally like I could. You can see how my judgement was a bit flawed.

My second year of college I lost weight. Suddenly bad boys were everywhere including one I’d had a crush on for months. I gave it the old college try but found my heart just wasn’t in it. I was still caught up in feelings and it bugged me to know he was only dating me because I was skinnier.

And that’s how I pretty much looked at every guy from then on. The problem was my judgment still didn’t match my morals. I was still attracted to the wrong guys; the difference was now they were attracted to me. Be careful what you wish for.

Somehow I always thought I was going to find that diamond in the rough, but time after time I would always end up thinking, “Would this guy be with me if I was thirty pounds heavier?”

The answer of course was a firm no. And that’s why I was never good at the one night stand. Which probably pleases my mother to pieces, but DAMN why did I have to think so much? I didn’t want to be that way. I wanted to let loose and have lots of sexual experiences but somehow my standards always got in the way of all the fun I was sure I was missing.

Of course the guys didn’t make it any easier. One time I ran into a guy I’d actually met the year before but because of circumstances our “alone time” had been interrupted. This time when alone again, he looked at me all sweet and sexy and delivered the same EXACT line he had said to me the year before. WORD FOR WORD. Of course, being who I was I had to point it out to him…this led to him making a big girly scene, which totally proved I was right and single-handedly set my head straight. I met Homer not long after.

Now I’m so grateful to be older, wiser and not so intense. My body issues are still there, but they’re my issues and have nothing to do with my relationship, except when I eat something bad and then complain for hours. So not sexy.

I’m at ease in my relationship and that makes sex better. I still have high expectations, but Homer ignores me and it all works out.

I have my regrets about not being more promiscuous, but not enough to tell my daughter to have at it when she’s ready. Sex is for the experienced, not for immature heads filled with deceptive fairy tales of what a relationship should be.

Did I mention Homer’s a drummer? Just sayin.

Bad. Ass. Dimples.

Whoever said dimples are cute has obviously not seen the ones on my ass. I was prepared for many things when I hit and rolled over 40; gray hair, saggy stomach, laugh lines, but I gotta say ass dimplage wasn’t even on the radar!

I have to admit, I haven’t exactly been pushing myself the last few years. I work out regularly but I eat and drink enough to cancel out my efforts. Yes I have stamina, but I also have ass dimples.

After my wine and food binge this weekend I was in a rush to get back to the gym. While dressing I quickly realized that in my gluttony haze over the weekend I neglected to do my laundry. I had one pair of shorts to wear to step class. Light grey, cheap material; I think I actually paid $7 for them. I hate them, but they had to do. Flash backs of the McDonald’s I’d inhaled in the Sobeys parking lot yesterday (don’t judge) shamed me into them.

Today is my new beginning. My fifth new beginning this year! I put on the shorts and got to the gym all motivated and repeating positive mantras to myself.

Nothing changes if nothing changes. You have to be strong. Only good things to eat; No alcohol (Lord help me). I know what you’re going to say; One glass of red wine is good for you. Well, here’s a heads up; I can’t drink just one glass of wine. I don’t see the point. I’m very much the same with chips. If the bag/bottle is open, I’m done. No self control. And if I start in with the wine, then the carbs are only moments behind. I like a little bread to soak up the alcohol.

Achem, where was I? Right…

At the gym the regulars gave me the once over and I took my punishment and held my head low as I got set up. The instructor was petite and I noted, older than me. It was then that I made the biggest mistake a person can make when getting back to the gym; Never ever underestimate the abilities of someone older than you. She ripped her jacket off to reveal a stomach so tight I think I gasped out loud. I never knew a stomach like that was possible at her age. Magnificent! That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to work out so hard people are going to gasp when I walk in a room. Of course, it didn’t occur to me this woman has been doing this for years, is extremely dedicated and probably doesn’t drink a bottle of wine and wash it down with a jumbo bag of Lays…but I digress.

So we get going and I’m feeling pretty good. Some of the routine was complicated and involved but I managed. And I think at one point I actually smiled. I was swirling around that step like no body’s business, that is, until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Now I know, it’s a classic mistake but it happened and I can’t take it back. Clearly, I wasn’t as smooth as I felt. Just as I was doing the “revolving door” I saw my ass in these cheap shorts and there it was… A huge butt crater.  I wish I was kidding. It is gianormous and glaringly obvious in the pale coloured pants. I’m the first one to say Lulu Lemon is way over priced, but at least I can’t see butt dimples in them and to me that’s worth the $1000 dollars a pair!

Horrified, I beat hell out of there and went home to stare in judgement at my naked self. I think I actually pulled a back muscle twisting around. As it turns out I just don’t have one, but several.

Oh. My. God. How did this happen? I mean, they had to have been there for a while but I normally don’t go inspecting my ass cheeks on a regular basis. Why hadn’t Homer said anything? Oh, poor Homer! How do I get rid of them? Will diet work? Is there a wrinkle cream for dimpled asses?  Botox?  I always said I wouldn’t go the Botox route, I don’t want to look frozen but does it matter if my ass has no expression? I think not! In fact, it might give it a lift. Am I the only one who has thought of this?

Now I’m trying to talk myself back into a positive state of mind by looking for a bright side, but for the life of me I can’t come up with one situation where someone would want to have ass dimples.

Ughh, I gotta go make an egg white omelette and eat it with NO BREAD..sigh