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Marriage and Relationships

bigger women, beautiful women, all women, women, happy in your own skin, body acceptance, self-love, dating a bigger woman

Yesterday, I read an article about what men think about dating bigger women. It was called 15 Thoughts Every Guy Has When Dating A Bigger Woman and kept waiting to read that it was a joke; a satirical piece written about society’s treatment of overweight women. Unfortunately, it was not. It was just one douchey guy’s opinion about men who date women who are not “hot” and rocking the unattainable, bullshit body stereotype that media would have you believe is real. It’s not. Even the skitches you see with those bodies in magazine spreads, don’t have those body types. They have photoshop. There may be 1% of 18 –year-olds who are rocking that body without medical assistance.

As a rule, women have been fighting men’s traditional stereotype of “hot” since the dawn of time. In fact, many a woman has developed eating disorders and poor self body-image to adhere to society’s standard of beauty. Let’s face it, in the United States, skinny still is the determining factor of whether or not a woman is considered hot. If you doubt my assessment, just read the article written in The Richest.  This guy is everything that is wrong with the world. He is the oppressor of women and should be called out as such.

Jim Hogue’s bullet points about why dating bigger women is settling for less than:

“Lots of times you see a guy, he could be normal sized or he could be overweight himself, with a woman that is a bit overweight. When that happens a bunch of things go through a guy’s mind. On the one hand you might feel a little bad for the guy, but on the other hand you might think that he was really in love, or at least was with someone he really liked. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder after all.”

Apparently, men who date bigger women are to be pitied.

His List of 15 thoughts every guy has when dating bigger women.

Your Date is Tough

Well, a guy that dates a plus-sized girl is usually not one of those guys. This guy wants a girl to hang out with that is tough, and can take care of herself. This is the kind of woman that mowed the lawn when she was growing up and went fishing with her dad. Maybe that is not the kind of girl that you imagine hanging out with, but hey, to each his own.

 

My Girl Can Cook

So maybe this goes without saying, I don’t know, but I am going to say it anyway. Big girls usually get big for a reason, and usually that reason has something to do with food. While it might be fun to be out clubbing with some hot woman, it is just as fun, and maybe more fun to the right guy, to stay at home and have a woman cook for him and take care of him.

 

Calorie Counting is Out

So we have all been there. You get out of work and have had a long day, and you are totally starving. You want to order a large Pepperoni pizza from the pizza joint, the kind they say feeds 4 people and you want to eat all of it all by yourself. Well, this is no problem at all with the plus-sized girlfriend; just give her a ring and tell her that you are on your way home and are picking up a large pie. The only problem is you are going to have to buy two.

 

It is Good for His Confidence

Some guys just lack confidence. They don’t feel ready to ask out the women that they truly desire. They need to work their way up so to speak. I know that may sound cruel, but this is about what guys think when they date plus-sized women.

 

He Might Like Them Better

While so many people look at a guy with a plus-sized woman and feel kind of bad for him, very few actually seem to understand that a lot of guys actually really like women that look this way. To each his own, people like what they like and there are a lot odder things that people are into than that.

 

They Are Easy to Talk To

One of the main things a guy dating a bigger chick is often thinking is how easy his girl is to talk to. This may seem like something that is not important to many guys, but after hanging out with a lot of uptight women, a girl that can relax and talk is a breath of fresh air. Let’s face it, so many women that look traditionally hot have never really learned the art of conversation, and most of them are not that funny. A plus-sized woman is the exact opposite. They are used to working their personality to make up for what many guys perceive to be flaws.  Most girls that are overweight tend to be really fun, and easy to talk to about pretty much anything. A guy that dates a normal-sized girl is not used to that at all.

 

**Oh look, this asshole managed to completely insult ALL women in one single paragraph! ***

 

Picking a Place to Eat is Easy

You want to go get some wings and some fries and watch the game at a sports bar and she wants to go to that new hip place and get Thai food. Or it could be that you go to order pizza and you want sausage and onion and she wants feta and greek olives?  Sometimes that whole scene can turn into an enormous fight when you are dating a chick that is average-sized. Well, if you are dating someone that is plus-sized, then you don’t have to worry about this a whole lot. She is going to probably be willing to go pretty much anywhere you want her to, at any time.

 

The Cuddling is the Best

There are some things that are simply not as fun when you are hanging out with a skinny woman. Like what you ask?  Cuddling a skinny woman is no fun at all. It feels like you are snuggling with your 12-year-old brother.  Not so if you are dating a plus- sized woman. In fact, once you start to cuddle her, you might not want to stop. It really is that good. Overweight women should hire themselves out as professional cuddlers. Oh, and also they are willing. A plus-sized girl is going to tend to be happy for that sort of attention, no doubt about that at all. All you have to do is lay down on the couch and look at her in a sweet way, and you will get your cuddle going before you know it.

 

She is a Built in Work-Out Buddy

A thin chick probably has a pretty stingy workout set routine; and not only that, she might be in better shape than you are. Not so if you are dating an overweight chick. She is probably going to be up for trying pretty much anything that you are into when it comes to training or working out. Sure, she might lag a little bit at first, but all that does is take a lot of pressure off your shoulders, and that is never a bad thing.

 

There is Less Pressure on How You Look

if you are dating a plus-sized woman. This is a whole new world: all of sudden kicking around the house all Sunday watching football and eating a whole bag of Cheese Doodles is more than fine. The woman you are dating is not going to care even a little bit about how much you weigh or what you eat, and that in itself can be priceless.

 

Jealousy is a Thing of the Past

Being jealous is a way of life for a lot of guys. It is one of the problems of having a super hot girlfriend. It is not like you are the only one that notices; everywhere you go people are going to be checking her out and sometimes, if you are a certain type of guy, that kind of thing can drive you crazy. And truth be told, this is why a lot of guys like dating a woman that they don’t have to worry about unwanted eyes.

 

They Tend to be Funny

Plus-sized girls tend to be funny, or at the very least they often have a really good sense of humor. This goes a bit hand in hand with the fact that they are easy to talk to. So many times girls that grew up being told they were hot all the time tend to stifle their sense of humor- why do they need to be funny?

A big chick is very often a really funny one, it happens all the time. It is no coincidence that so many female comedians tend to be a bit on the big side.

 

They Tend to Be Eager to Please

While so many women want a guy to put her up on a pedestal, when you are dating a plus-sized girl it is often the exact opposite. They are often not used to being with a guy and are insecure about it. They want you to be happy. Whether it is going out or staying in, what movie to see, or what you do in the bedroom, most of these women are eager to please. In their minds you have looked past their physical issues and are into them for who they are. Which in turn often makes them very willing, in all sorts of ways. A guy with a plus-sized girl can soon feel like a king, which can be really appealing to the guy that was getting pushed around in another relationship.

 

You Can Take Her Anywhere

She will go pretty much anywhere you want to go, and do whatever you want to do. Want to spend the day at the beach? She will go and rub lotion on your back in those hard to reach places. Want to spend the day doing yard work? She will probably be up for doing that as well, and may even outwork you while doing it. A typical guy that dates a plus-sized woman really gets used to hanging with someone agreeable for a change, and who quite often is up for anything. This is not to say that most hot women are not agreeable of course. Actually, who am I kidding, that is exactly what I mean.

 

They are Easy to Ask Out

Guys don’t like getting stressed out, so they go with something that they consider more of a sure thing. It is hard to ask out a woman, so sometimes a guy ends up asking someone he is pretty sure that he will not get rejected by, which is why he asks out a plus-sized woman in the first place.

 

Firstly, who is defining what’s considered “bigger”? Is it a size 8, 10, 14, 20, 26? Is it anything above a sample size. That may be “Normal” in places where looks are all that matter and eating disorders and plastic surgery are the norm (I’m looking at you California) but it’s not in the rest of the world. And who defines beauty anyways? The media which is controlled, predominantly, by men.

 

There are plenty of fat, bald and old guys out there with wives, girlfriends and partners and no one flinches. No one feels sorry for their spouses. The assumption is that their partner loves them, not that their partner settled for them so why is it that society assumes that in order for a man to love a woman who is not anorexic, he must be settling and it could not possibly be a physical attraction? Besides, when choosing a partner, initially we are attracted to the way a person looks (that’s human nature) and then we fall in love with who they are and all their qualities that we find endearing and that is different for every single person.

 

The fact that this guy assumes that because a woman is “bigger” she is being settled for and that if is guy is dating a “bigger” girl it is out of desperation or some sort of willful act of giving up makes me sick. I also find it kind of alarming that he manages to insult all women in his piece. He basically calls skinny women unapproachable bitches that he is not up for the challenge of even attempting to date and he infers that bigger women are so needy and willing to please that he’ll settle for less than “perfect” in order to not face rejection.

As a woman who has been the thin hot woman and I know the burden of being a “bigger” woman and everything in between, I can assure you that there are plenty of men out there who want all women. Good, decent respectable men who are attracted to all types and don’t consider it settling or giving up on life to date a woman who crosses the threshold of a size 6. Only men with small minds judge women on the size of their asses.

This article is more telling about Jim Hogue’s, the author, shortcomings than anything else. Let me tell you one last thing Mr. Hogue on behalf of women everywhere of every size, none of us wants you because you are ugly to the core and that is worse than fat any day of the week. You sir deserve this week’s Throat Punch Thursday!

Throat Punch Thursday,dating bigger women

If you’d like to read the article 15 Thoughts Every Guy Has When Dating A Bigger Woman in its entirety it is here.

What are your thoughts on his take on dating bigger women?

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birthday, husband, love

Birthday celebration today! May 3rd is one of the most important days of my year; 41 years ago on this day, this handsome man was born. This is my husband (better known to the Internet as The Big Guy), the father of my children, my best friend and my partner in life. I love this man more than I can put into words. This is the guy who took on all the crazy and loved me in spite of myself. You don’t know the half of it

This past year has been a hard one ( you know with me seeming to have one medical issue after another) but this guy, he’s never complained ( as bone tired and frustrated as he might have been picking up all of the slack). He loves his girls like we are the entire world to him and that’s a damn special love.

Baby, I want to wish you the happiest of birthdays and I look forward to a lifetime of celebrating them with you. Thank you for all that you do. It hasn’t gone unnoticed or unfelt. Having you in this world has certainly made it a better place. Love you more! 

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relationship advice, married sex, children and marriage, sex, marriage

I’m not usually one to give relationship advice but when marital relations with children in the house is the topic, I feel it’s my duty to warn you about the dangers, especially the Lee Harvey Oswald. No, I didn’t just get shot in the head in Texas and there’s been no grass on the knoll since 1997. But, yes, to my horror I did just get shot in the eye unexpectedly. It was funny but not really because I’m pretty sure a mom can lose her left eye in such shenanigans.

Look, I’m not trying to go all TMI on you so early in the morning but most of you have kids, so you will totally get this and if you don’t have kids, you were a teenager at one point and had parents (more than likely) so you will totally understand what I am about to tell you.  It’s a tale as old as time, people trying to have sex while not trying to get caught by other people (in our case, little people.) I love the Big Guy more today than I did when we first got together almost 20 years ago and I still think he’s the hottest man in the room, but as our girls have gotten older “couple time” has gotten tricky.

This is the one bit of relationship advice about sex that you will want to take.

See, the kids are getting a little older and that means they are staying up a little later and getting up a little earlier. The point being after a couple episodes of Big Bang Theory or Last Week Tonight our “alone time” is spent which means that leaves very little time for “adult time”. That stinks. We’re humans, not just parents, we have needs. Needs and desires that require us to feel and be adults; entities that exist outside the realm of Mommy and Daddy.

A couple weeks ago the Big Guy was home for a week with a raging case of pink eye and believe me you; we used up every single moment of free time. It was like we were back in college just he had pink eye, I was jet lagged and we were in a bed and not in a rickety loft. Either way, it reminded us of how important “us time” really is. It’s not about just sex, it’s about intimacy and all it takes is some sneaky squirrel antics on our part, at least 15 minutes of distracted kids and a locked door is nice too. Damn open door policy in our house.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve spent the last decade playing the worst game of sex hide and seek ever. That game is stressful and not romantic. When they were small it was easy, we could take it to the living room floor, the conjugalorium, the half bath or even the laundry room or a closet if we were really in dire straights. Sure we got busted a couple times but we played it off. They thought they dreamt mommy and daddy were wrestling.

But now, if we’re caught someone’s going to be traumatized. The girls are ballerinas and I swear they must float on air because they need to wear bells because they are the best sidlers I’ve ever known, especially the little one so the risk of getting busted is dangerously high.

This morning the girls requested an early wake up call so that they could shower. We saw our opportunity. We had to take it. So the minute we heard the shower start, the clock was ticking. We locked the door and took what was ours.

Then it happened. I got Oswalded. We heard the shampoo drop and in a frantic rush we knew it was now or never. We also knew that I was ovulating and we are a strictly no more baby household, especially considering that a couple weeks ago everyone in my gynecologist’s office couldn’t stop asking if I was menopausal? It must be the matronly swagger with which I rock my skinny jeans and TOMs.

In a frantic scurry not to procreate, we “ disengaged” and that’s when “it” grazed my stomach, ricocheted off of my left breast and hit me squarely beneath my eye before continuing on to the pillow. MY EYE! I was in shock. Was I dead? Was I bleeding? One thing I knew for sure, and thank God for the positive side of everything, I wasn’t pregnant.

Now, I totally get it…the whole, you’ll shoot your eye out and you’ll go blind statements of our mothers past…the force with which a weekend build up holds could surely render me a wondrous one-eyed Willie. How the hell would I explain that my husband Lee Harvey Oswalded me during a quickie because we were afraid our kids would catch us?

Here’s the relationship advice everybody trying to have sex with kids in the house should heed…

Lock the damn door and take your time. You deserve it. I know it’s hard having with kids standing on the other side and it’s a little terrifying especially since I think my littlest might know how to pick a lock but damn it, your eyesight is important. It’s all fun and games until someone gets their eye shot out and a sticky eyebrow as a parting gift.

As a parent what piece of relationship advice would you give another parent about having sex with kids, especially older ones, in the house?

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romance, marriage, the romance of marriage,sex

The romance of marriage might not look anything like what you thought it would when you first fell in love. Then again, nothing ever does. Hell, I was the best parent in the world before I gave birth and I had a very specific vision of what my romantic life with the man I loved would look like. I didn’t know shit.

In the beginning, romance meant not being able to keep our hands off of one another. It was every minute of every day being together, or at least wanting to be together. It meant nights sitting on rooftops, snuggled together watching the stars and kissing. In the beginning, it was sitting in his lap, long walks late at night talking about everything and nothing all at the same time. We were in college and on that first night, we met and neither of  us was particularly interested in the other but by the end of that night, something unexpected happened; he was everything I never knew I always wanted.

We’ve been married now for almost 17 years now, which comes as a shock to everyone, especially since we got engaged after only 4 months of knowing one another. He said he just knew. I was a little less rash in the beginning but I knew I loved him and I couldn’t imagine spending my life without him.

The romance of marriage evolves as it goes on.

Over time, the definition of romance has changed as we have grown and changed. Before children, it meant long weekends together, eating at 5-star restaurants, dancing and laughing until out legs couldn’t support us any longer. Then it meant making our way back to our hotel room through a fog of alcohol and lust and making love until we collapsed in one another’s arms. Those were the days when everything was ahead of us.

Then on one particularly special weekend spent celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary in New Orleans and life took a pleasantly unexpected turn, we were “blessed” with the conception of our first child. Then, weekends away were no more. Date nights went into retirement for 5 long years but it didn’t matter, we were too tired and too broke to go out anyways. To be honest those first few “date nights” and most after that for a couple years, we spent eating take out in our pajamas in quiet and going to bed at a reasonable hour; sometimes sex happened and sometimes it didn’t and we were both okay with that because anyone who has ever been a parent knows that sleep is way more important for everyone involved. It’s not like we’ve forgotten that “sex” is what got us into this predicament in the first damn place.

Not that I’m bitter about parenthood. I love my children, as much as anyone can love children that are awake. They are my favorite children in the world. I can tolerate their whining almost constantly but we’ve come to a point in our lives where we fully recognize, with the help of some sleep, that our children are only a temporary situation. Parenting little kids is not a permanent status, not in the way it is today or yesterday or will be tomorrow. It is ever changing and evolving. It is amazing, terrible and fantastic all at the same time and I wouldn’t change a second of it (not even the colicky ones or the night terrors or the endless nights of sleeplessness). It’s the best thing I will ever do.

These days date nights are still pretty few and far between for the Big Guy and I. Not that we don’t enjoy a night on the town, it’s just that date night for us means kids sleeping over at Grandma’s and that means a whole lot of coordinating of dates and times because Grandma and Grandpa have a life (more than the Big Guy and I apparently). But sometimes, a couple just needs a date night; a minute to remember whom you were before babies. A second to remember why you used to forgo sleep and food just to devour this other person literally and metaphorically; why they were your everything. They are still there and you need to recognize that, out loud, at least occasionally. A little slap on the ass, deep kiss in the middle of the afternoon or a text that says, ” I can’t stop thinking about you sexy!” can go a long way in reminding them that you still find them to be an attractive sexual being, even if it’s buried under spit up and stains and a hangry attitude.

The romance of marriage is about loving someone so much that you can still see them, even when they feel like they have begun to disappear.

So we jumped through all the hoops, signed all the necessary documents and voila, 3 weeks later we got a date night approved and it was glorious. First, he took me to see a horror movie in.the.theater. That never happens. We are all about the Netflix and Chill situation. In return, I chose a restaurant that he had been wanting to try; a microbrewery in an old warehouse. It was by no stretch of the imagination 5-star but it was quaint and it was nice to be there with him. Hell, I was having such a good time sitting at our chalkboard table, sampling my flight of craft beers (totally out of my comfort zone) that I barely even noticed the herd of hipsters with handlebar mustaches playing chutes and ladders or some shit at the next table. Barely but obviously a little bit. Who the hell cannot stare at a handlebar mustache with a man bun and a Member’s Only jacket playing Chutes and Ladders? Seriously.

We ordered off of the very limited (as if it were secret) menu. My choices were a Nutella hotdog or a BLT with Gouda or some other 3 pub specialties. I chose the BLT because I was starving and needed something to fill my empty stomach that was fighting what I found out the next morning to be the flu. The Big Guy chose some sort of beef sandwich. But none of that was important, what was important was that there we were talking, drinking, laughing and being “us” with no one calling us mommy or daddy for miles.

At one particularly romantic moment of the night, I excused myself to the restroom only to return to my seat to find the words “SEXY!” with an arrow pointing to my seat scribbled in chalk on the table. Sounds simple, right? But it made me feel sexy. It made me feel like he saw me, for the first time in a long time. Of course, he soon followed that message up with his own message on his side of the table, directed toward the waitress, “ Check Please. I’m going home to have SEX!” It made me laugh. It made me feel wanted and we left the hipsters to their chutes and ladders. Sure, it was only 10 p.m. but that was really f*cking adorable.

On the way home I told him that I really wanted something sweet. Obviously, the hipster brew worx didn’t serve dessert unless you count the Nutella on the all beef hotdog. I didn’t. So he stopped by the grocery ran in and returned the sexiest man alive with a box of fudge pop tarts and a giant bouquet of wild flowers from the grocery store, just because…my favorite kind of flowers in the world. Apparently, I’m cheap and easy.

It wasn’t a five star date night by any stretch of the imagination but it had the same effect and ended the same way, minus the dancing until our legs gave out because since I broke my leg, it doesn’t work like it used to. Of course, leave it to him to make even that sexy because I’ll be damned if he didn’t give that ugly scar a little kiss while he massaged my leg that night, like he’s done for months while I’ve been recovering from this broken leg.

That’s what the romance of marriage is really about, falling in love with the same person over and over again throughout time. Choosing to love them every day.

What is your definition of the romance of marriage?

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love in marriage, Love, marriage, Valentine's Day, Big Guy

When the Big Guy and I met, we were in college. We, literally, had nothing to offer one another but ourselves. We were young, babies really; at the funny age where you look like an adult but you just don’t have the wisdom and experience in life to be a real grown up.

Ours was not a typical love story. We met, neither of us wanting or expecting anything out of the meeting, and somewhere between being completely unimpressed and a long walk home on a random autumn Monday night, we fell head over heels and we didn’t even know it. All we knew is that we craved the other’s company like air and before we knew it, being together was as natural as breathing.

It was easy, passionate and deep like most things in life tend to be in your early twenties. It was like coming home to the one place you were always meant to be, someplace that belonged to just the two of you.

There was no pretense of forethought in our relationship, we were completely ourselves and that was more than enough. Soon, he was my best friend and I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. When I say soon, I am not exaggerating. He proposed to me after dating for just under four months.

The impetuousness of our youth was what made the impossible possible. If we had been older, less trusting or worldlier we would have never jumped so blindly into the biggest decision of our lives. We would have over thought it. We would have waited. None of it made sense. It wasn’t love at first sight but from the first night that we spent talking, I knew he was someone that I wanted to get to know; someone worth knowing. Then, somewhere between physical lust and eternal devotion, we found unconditional love.

In those days, we were as happy sharing a bowl of Frosted Flakes on his futon as we were eating a five course meal at a five star restaurant. We were as happy camping out under the stars as we were staying in a chic diamond hotel in a booming metropolis. It’s never been about what we’re doing or where we’re doing, it’s always been about who we’re with. All we’ve ever needed to be happy is one another’s company and sincere conversation.

Though life has changed drastically these days and we no longer live in a tiny one bedroom apartment all we still need to be happy is one another. These days there are children deadlines, boards, travel and a million other responsibilities in our lives but at the heart of it all, we are still those two college kids sitting on the futon falling head over heels in love over a bowl of Frosted Flakes.

Disclosure: This is a compensated post written for Frosted Flakes but all opinions are my own.

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fiberone, life moments, sisters, wedding, best friends

Disclosure: This post was sponsored by FiberOne through their partnership with POPSUGAR Select. While I was compensated to write a post about FiberOne Streusel Bars, all opinions are my own.

It’s been a crazy few weeks. The summer was spent busily planning for my sister’s wedding, traveling and meeting deadlines. It was chock-full of some of life’s great things, but sometimes even the best things in life can leave you exhausted and overwhelmed, whether it is planning a wedding, bringing home a new baby or taking your dream vacation. Sometimes, you just have to stop and breathe to fully enjoy everything. A moment of quiet “me” time to regroup and rejuvenate can make the world of difference in the midst of all the chaos.

I wasted this Summer looking forward to the finish line instead of enjoying the moments as they were happening. I had so much to do that instead of just enjoying all the great adventures and life changing milestones, I found myself just trying to get through them. I wanted to survive until the next chance for down time. I think all of us do this from time to time. Life is hectic and it’s hard to fully enjoy the moments when it all begins to feel like a chore.

A week ago, I was counting the days until I got to finally rest. Honestly, it was one day until my sister’s wedding and all of our scheduled plans for the Summer would be complete. After the rehearsal dinner, after all the commotion and stress of the day were washing over us and every one else had gone to bed, my baby sister and I sat there in her living room, lit by twinkling lights, and just talked about nothing in particular. This was one of the best moments of my entire Summer.

Right in the middle of the monsoon of wedding chaos, the biggest day of her life, we just took a moment to sit still and talk about everything and nothing all at the same time. It was the perfect act of combined “me” time. She had been stressing for months with planning and wedding details. I haven’t had the chance to catch my breath all Summer. This shared moment of quiet sisterhood was something we both really needed. Alone time allows me to regroup, but sister time has always allowed me to recharge because I know I have my sister to lean on, to share with and to understand and listen as does she with me. It’s different than “me” time but, for me, it is equally as important.

We sat on that couch beneath the twinkling lights, listening to ‘80s love songs that we used to include on our “sleep tapes” when we were in high school, and reminisced. We got hungry, so we ate strawberry streusel Fiber One® Bars while we sipped on wine and laughed about all the crazy, great times we had and those which are still to come. It was the perfect marriage of the sweet things in life and an unforgettable “we” moment. It was one of those perfect sister moments that mean nothing and everything, all at the same time.

After an hour or so of talking about everything that flew into our minds and out of our souls, we crawled into bed together, like we did when we were children, and talked some more until one of us fell asleep from exhaustion. The last thing I remember hearing as I drifted off to sleep was my little sister’s laugh, as we giddily discussed her wedding day and made plans for our happily ever afters. My heart is still full just thinking about it.

fiberone, life moments, sisters, wedding, best friends

The next morning, I woke her up by serenading her with “Going to the Chapel of Love” by the Shirelles. We both started our day in a great mood and then we grabbed a couple more Strawberry Streusel Fiber One® Bars to take with us on our errands, and even though it was pouring rain out, we were transported back to sitting beneath those twinkle lights and everything was perfect.

 

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sex, Mexican food, Mexican food and sex don't mix, sex after children, marriage

Mexican food does not mix well with sex and it’s not for the reason that you might think. It has nothing to do with beans, though, I am sure that has it’s own set of consequences. Mexican Subway anyone. ( Just Google it. You know you want to.) This is something my mom should have warned me about when she gave me “the talk”. Well, maybe she did. Our sex talk went a little  like this, ” It’s going to hurt A LOT!” Then my dad chimed in, “Don’t do it!” Maybe they were telling me their truth…

Mexican food and sex don’t mix!

Since having children, finding the time to have sex (whether Mexican food recipes are involved or not) has become a challenge. Making love has gone from being recreational to a full on covert ops sport. The days of spontaneous sex are long gone, unless you count the rogue moments of bathroom sex or Saturday morning, wake up early, quietly lock the door and do it quick and dirty. Oh yeah, that happens. Quick and dirty is the specialty in this house with an 8 and 10-year-old. Those broads know how to jimmy the door open.

But sometimes when you try to do it quick and dirty, well, to be quite frank, people get burned. I know this because I was recently on the receiving end of a bad combination of Mexican food and lovemaking. That’s right, a little healthy fooling around with my Big Guy ended with me in the shower pouring milk straight onto my vagina. See, I told you that it had nothing do with beans!

So, you’re thinking to yourself, what kind of kinky shit are Debi and the mister getting themselves into over there? Well, let’s just say that you should always wash your hands at least three times after handling spicy foods, especially peppers. I know because, well, I’m Mexican and have put jalapeno, habanero and all sorts of peppers, accidentally, into my eyeballs throughout my lifetime. It’s a damn miracle that I’m not blind. Apparently, my eyeballs are kinky and like it hot and rough. This is obviously a lesson lost on my 100% caucasian husband, otherwise, he might have known…and heeded my father’s warning of, “Don’t do it!”

The other night after a mouth-watering meal of homemade Mexican food, the Big Guy and I were feeling the heat and getting a little frisky between the sheets. It was all well and good until Mr. Vagina Whisperer over here decided to get a little up close and personal with my nether regions. Look, I am all about a good “massage” but, men, you MUST wash your hands if you’ve been handling hot spices or peppers, especially if you just deseeded 5 veiny jalapeños for your super secret, ultra spicy homemade salsa. Well, this goes for all men; in general, all men must wash hands before lovemaking. Think of it as one of those signs posted in Fast Food restaurant bathrooms, if it helps.

All I know is that one minute, I was enjoying the “massage” and the next, I was feeling the burn and immediately following that I was in the shower screaming for the Big Guy to bring me all the milk in the house. This girl was on fire, and not in the good Alicia Keys way. I was a very, unhappy burning crotch down under kind of girl on fire. Bad things were happening to my lady bits and I could do nothing but watch in horror as the flames engulfed me.

You know how when you eat a really spicy pepper your lips start tingling, then they start swelling and then you’re crying because the burn is like a thousand bee stings. Yes, I had that….right there in my vagina and vagina adjacent region.

Just to recap….

Mexican Food and Sex Don’t Mix!

Write it down. I’ll wait.

The moral of the story is this, there are a few things that I’ve learned over the years that certainly don’t mix with sex; spicy Mexican food fingers being at the top of that list (no you poured $8 a gallon organic milk on your vagina in the middle of the night to stop feeling the burn), toddlers within 5 miles of an unlocked bedroom (no you were naked wrestling with your husband when you to caught by a 2-year-old and played dead) and certain sleep aids for insomniacs. Here is my rule of thumb, Ambien is great for forgotten, wild sex weekends but Xanax before bed can leave your partner with the longest hand job in the history of the universe. Think puff, puff, give but instead…rub, rub, snore. I hear it’s embarrassing and you never live it down because truly the only thing funnier is a Norwegian Knob gobbler. Now, go Google that and have a nice day.

And remember, no sex after handling spicy foods until all parts that have come in contact with the heat have been properly cleansed and eradicated of any spicy residue. You’ll thank me later.

What’s your best sex advice?

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a life that's good, marriage, spouse, love, family

What do you think constitutes a life that’s good? It’s been a really weird couple of weeks. I’m not sure that mentally, I’ve completely returned from vacation. It’s difficult to get back into a routine when you’ve just spent 2 weeks living on vacation time. But when something unexpected like illness is thrown your way, well, your world goes from hazy to upside down in zero seconds flat. You find yourself discombobulated and confused. You find yourself weary and worn. You find yourself changing perspective and reprioritizing. Then, you find your way.

Sunday morning started like every other Father’s day, I told the Big Guy to sleep in. Then I went downstairs and began making espresso and cooking breakfast, as our girls busied themselves making him the sweetest Father’s Day banner to date. Everything was right in my world. I was feeling blessed.

The day before was spend doing yard work and teaching the girls how to play basketball. Things were starting to fall back into a groove. Normalcy was settling in and the overwhelming exhaustion of reentry was dissipating. Then it happened. The other foot. I always get cocky when things are good and then life throws me a curveball to instill a little humility.

After breakfast, the Big Guy said he wasn’t feeling “well” and went to lie down. I went up after him to check in on him because this is very out of character for him. I found him laying in silence, fist clenched as he stoically winced. I knew something was wrong. In the 18 years that I have shared a life with this man, I’ve never seen him do this. He has a high tolerance for pain (unless you count the man cold) but this was something different. I knew he was in pain. It’s humbling to see a 6’5”, 250-pound man incapacitated. It scared me because what if it was something serious. What would I do without him?

a life that's good, marriage, spouse, love, family

I asked him if he wanted to go to the hospital, he brushed it off. I knew better. I called my in laws to come stay with our girls and,in silence, we headed for the hospital. Happy Father’s Day to the Big Guy. I hate the ride to the hospital. It’s always the time my head thinks all of the worst thoughts.

We spent all day there. It was a three Xanax kind of day because seeing him in real pain made me feel helpless and that turned the volume up on my anxiety to high but I couldn’t show it. I had to stay strong for him, like he’s done for me so many times. All I wanted to do was breakdown. Think trapped wild animal but instead of a wild animal it was my emotions being forced silent inside of my head.

Deep breath. Keep your shit together lady. Pray. Check in on kids. See if he needs anything. Can I do something? Question the nurses and doctors like it’s your job (because it is.) Mind keeps going to the worst place. Get the hell out of my mind. Shift in my seat. Hold back the tears. Deep breath. Keep shit together. Pray….Repeat!

Eventually, after a CT and several other tests in which he was poked and prodded, they released him home to me with 3 bottles of medication and a strict clear diet and orders to see a surgeon the next day. I was happy to be taking him home but still my mind would not quiet. All I kept thinking was he needed to follow up with a surgeon. My thoughts were spastic and my heart was cracking. Stay strong bitch. This is NOT about YOU!

We went to the surgeon and for now, it’s nothing a couple weeks of high-powered antibiotics and some pain meds won’t fix. We’re scheduled for a follow up but today the prognosis is good. My mind is still worried, even with the 99.9% reassurance from the funny little doctor with the sunny disposition and wonderful sense of humor. To him, my husband is just another patient but to me, the Big Guy is everything.

The bottom line is that life happens and sometimes it’s some really shitty stuff like losing a baby or a parent or watching helplessly as your child or your husband is hospitalized. All you can do is pray and advocate, advocate and pray like their life depends on it because sometimes it does. The rest of the time all that we can hope for is a life that is good.

Speaking of which, about half way through writing this post, A Life That’s Good by Lennon and Maisy came on and the words spoke to my heart. This song sums up exactly what I’ve been feeling these past couple of days. Here are the Lyrics:

 

Sitting here tonight, by the fire light
It reminds me I already have more than I should.
I don’t need fame, no one to know my name.
At the end of the day, Lord I pray

I have a life that’s good.

Two arms around me
Heaven to ground me
and a family that always calls me home.
Four wheels to get there.
Enough love to share and a
sweet, sweet, sweet song.
At the end of the day, Lord I pray
I have a life that’s good.

Sometimes I’m hard on me,
when dreams don’t come easy
I wanna look back and say I did all that I could.
At the end of the day, Lord I pray
I have a life that’s good.

Two arms around me
Heaven to ground me
and a family that always calls me home.
Four wheels to get there.
Enough love to share and a
sweet, sweet, sweet song.
At the end of the day, Lord I pray
I have a life that’s good.

At the end of the day, Lord I pray
I have a life that’s good.

In the end, who cares about money, status or what other people think about us? All that matters is that we lived on our own terms, a life of few regrets and filled with lots of love. Care about the people who matter and don’t waste your time on those who you don’t matter to. These past few days have reminded me that I really do have a life that’s good and that is more than enough. That is everything.

Tonight, I am thankful. I am thoughtful. The people that I love are safe and healthy and that’s more than enough.

What do you think qualifies a life that’s good?

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marriage, sex, couples, marriage, commuter marriage, love, relationships,sex

Maybe you can’t relate to my particular circumstances, maybe you can. Marriage is hard, especially when you love your spouse and worse, if you like him. You can imagine what shit mine has been since my husband is, quite literally, my best friend.

For the past 5 years (almost 6), we have been “not normal.” Well, definitely not traditional. We went from a young family with a preschooler and barely a toddler living in a nice suburban college town to a family separated by time and distance via a commuter marriage. The Big Guy worked in one state; we lived in another and only saw him on weekends. In case you were wondering what that was or how it goes, it sucks by the way. It sucks BIG TIME!

To be honest, this was the time I started this blog. Maybe I should have named it “This is why Marriage Sucks” blog. But it didn’t suck. The situation did but I loved my husband, and more than that, I liked him…a lot. I still do most days.

Then, after 2 years of that utter hell and mess of commuter marriage and the loss and gain of 3 separate jobs, we finally got to live together with my in-laws for a year, that was the year that I had a miscarriage and turned 40. It pretty much blew.

Then we bought a house; a fixer upper that we are still fixing up, but a place of our own. The Big Guy was still driving 2 hours each way to and from work. Do the math. He left for work at 5 a.m. He got home from work at 5:15 p.m. Our girls go to bed at 7:00. He went to bed at 9 p.m. The girls and I see him for about 1 hour and 45 minutes a day, Monday thru Friday. Oh yes, it did f*cking suck.

I haven’t complained for a long time. After all, what was the point? We had no control over that situation. It was a down economy and being middle class, we had no handouts or hands up to be given. We had to figure it out and we did. I’ve just been grateful for the little wins but I will be honest with you now, it was hard.

He missed most of our children’s childhood up until this point. That was rough on all of us, most of all him. He went from the all in father who did everything with his girls to being essentially a part time dad, against his will which made me, ahem, an almost single mother. It was lonely and overwhelming.

Don’t get your panties in a twist. Yes, I had him on weekends but weekends are not enough when you are expecting forever. Try it, and then you will see how terrible it really is. They lie when they say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all because when you’ve loved, you know what you’re missing and it goes the same for marriage.

Today, for the first time in 5 years (most of our children’s lives) we live together, sleep together, in the same house, in the same state, 7 nights a week. This morning the Big Guy started a new job in our town, 20 minutes away. This morning our family finally became normal again.

This morning he kissed me goodbye. This morning our girls got to say, “Good Morning, Daddy” and wrap their little arms around his big neck. This morning I didn’t have to worry about my husband driving 2 hours on icy roads each way, holding my breath until he was home. This morning, for the first time in a long time, I felt like things were going to work themselves out…finally.

Tonight, he will be home in time for dinner and not be exhausted from getting up at 4:30 a.m. After the girls go to bed, we will be able to snuggle on the couch and watch television and talk to one another, instead of just a short catch up on what happened with the kids before he went to bed in another room as I stayed up until the wee hours of the night doing work.

Today, we are “normal” again.

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marriage, love, lifetime, the Big Guy

I don’t talk about the Big Guy very much on here because, well, this isn’t the truth about my marriage blog. But sometimes, he does something and I think I really need to write about this…to remember it, to appreciate my marriage.

You know when you’ve been married to someone for 15 years, no matter if he is the greatest thing since sliced bread, it’s easy to take it for granted because they’re just always there and I think that’s when problems start to creep in. Nobody wants to be taken for granted.

The thing is no one wants to be the squeaky wheel in a marriage either, so many times, we suffer in silence. Well, not exactly suffer as much as stew. We let the small things irritate us and we don’t say anything because, really is the fact that he clips his toenails at the coffee table that big of a deal?

No, maybe it’s not but it is gross and if I just let it keep happening and never said, “Hey DUDE! That’s gross, can you do that in the bathroom and discard of the clippings into a wastebasket because accidentally stepping on one is about as dangerous and painful as stepping on a damn Lego in the middle of the night and it’s twice as annoying because a grown up did it!”

Sure, it may sound petty and even stupid to some but what’s the alternative? You stew. You hold onto it and you make this imaginary list of things your partner does that make you roll your eyes and one day the toenail clippings are the reason you are citing for a divorce. Toenail CLIPPINGS! What the hell? I don’t want to write toenail clippings, drops socks just outside of hamper or even never changes the toilet paper tube on divorce papers. Do you?

Then again, sometimes he does something so miniscule to him but so huge and sweet to me that you think he is more wonderful than wonderful because of a bite of a hamburger. Yep, that’s right. Toe nail clippings = irreconcilable differences. Last Bite of burger=Best.Husband.Ever.

So, the Big Guy has done this once before and that time I thought it was amazing too. I get hangry. There is no denying it. I am downright evil when I am hungry. Yet, most nights of the week, I cook dinner, serve dinner and drinks and then when everyone else is settled, I sit down to eat. I usually forget 12 things and have to jump up and run back into the kitchen.

Friday night is Family Night and so we decided on burgers for dinner last week. I have been trying to eat healthier and workout but Friday is eat what you want “within reason” night. I ordered a single cheeseburger and French fries. I gave half of my fries to the Big Guy because he eats more than me and I just couldn’t eat them all without all consuming guilt. You know what I’m talking about.

Anyways, I got to the end of my sandwich and said, “Damn, I should have gotten the double.”

I didn’t get the double because I can never finish it and it kind of makes me sick but on that particular night, we were all starving. The Big Guy had gotten home late and instead of eating at 5 p.m. as usual, we were eating at 7:30. I was so hungry that I could have eaten one of my children.

Just as I took that very last bite or my burger, my husband reached over and gave me the last bite of his burger and I fell in love all over again. I took half and gave him back half. Then my insides all turned to jelly. JELLY! Not from a burger but from the selfless act. He was starving too.

marriage, love, lifetime, the Big Guy

If you’ve been married or with someone for any amount of time you know why this was so huge. It was not about a burger. It was about putting my needs first. It was unconditional love in its purest form. It told me that he’ll always take care of me and that he loves me so much that he would sacrifice his own wants to fulfill my needs. It was a small bite of a burger but the gesture said more than words ever could.

You know, the funny thing is that the Big Guy is a really good guy all the time, mostly. He’s never really been the selfish asshole type and he’s always been good to me. He surprises me with the things I want. He encourages me to go after my dreams. He supports me in my career. He truly believes in me. He cooks, cleans and helps with the girls. In fact, if we ever were to divorce, my parents would blame me without even asking.

He told me when he proposed (after four months of dating) that I was his soul mate. I thought maybe he was crazy. Apparently, he meant it. Him and his last bite of the burger antics have me wanting to be a better woman; a better wife to him because damn it he deserves it.

So do the little things. Receive the little things because damn it the little things add up and they mean more than you probably realize. I love my husband more today than yesterday and today it is because of the last bite of a burger.

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