A Little on A Lot

On Feeling Like a Complete Ass

Not to tredge through the mudiness that was my life last summer yet again, but to tredge through the mudiness that was my life last summer.  At least this one last time.   

I know what I wrote about the whole summer situation was a little cryptic on here, but I have a feeling that since there are only three people who read this page and they are all good friends, that they know exactly what I am talking about.   

Let’s reiterate shall we?  Nothing really happened.  There were some e-mails, some texts, some innappropriate but mostly not.  I got carried away.  I’m pretty sure I was played.  An easy target who let physical attraction get the best of her.   

It was such a strange mix of exhileration and feeling like complete shit because it wasn’t me, really.  I was turning my back on everything I stood for, everything I believed in, myself.  Just throwing it out the window.  Thank God, I had the good sense to not carry through.  To let my husband know enough that he could reign me back in before it got bad.  I really don’t even know the person I was for those brief 3 months.  I don’t recognize her.  I do remember though feeling really alive and beautiful and sexy. 

I also thought about her.  Knowing she was my friend, but I wasn’t acting like hers.  She was always in my mind and a big pull that held me back.  I wish I could tell her now that I’m sorry.  That I was an ass and I miss hanging out with her.   

I don’t blame her though, for not returning my e-mails or invites.  How can I?  I would feel the exact same way were our situations reversed.  I made one last attempt and inviting them to our 4^th of July party.  The e-vites went out last night and this morning there was already a no in my inbox.  So that’s that.  I will quit trying to ease my conscious by attempting to be her friend again.  I feel like a complete idiot and I will live with that. 

On a Letter to T

    

My Dearest T,

 

Remember when you sent out that lovely e-mail explaining that you would no longer be coming to S Florida once a month to service your clients and all their personal needs? 

 

Remember how I wrote you in return and expressed my enthusiasm for your choice and how happy I was for you and your new adventure? 

 

I TAKE IT ALL BACK! 

 

I went today to your replacement, Natilda the Russian Torturer and she was very thorough, so very thorough.  And it was clinical and cold.  And did I mention thorough?  There was no chatter and fun discussions about Lost or good books.  There was though, “You really should wax your gluteus.  This shows up when you wear a bathing suit.” 

 

Um, okay.  And, T, you know how hairy my “gluteus” is.  You know.  Not so much any more.  The phrase smooth as a baby’s bottom could now be smooth as Erika’s bottom.  Let’s break it down.  By the time she finished my Brazilian there was not a single hair from my lower back to my mid-thigh. 

 

Oh, and then, as I was at my most sadomasochist, I agreed to let her wax my whole leg.  I thought, self, it can’t be as bad as what we just went through.  But, self was wrong.  I forgot that I haven’t waxed my legs in probably close to a year and they had forgotten how to ignore the pain of the wax and instead, my legs squealed like a little girl. 

 

The thing was too, that since this was Natilda the Russian Torturer, I couldn’t let out a peep.  If it would have been you, my friend, my T, I would have threatened to beat you up or cry, but I was rendered silent by the no-nonsense attitude of the latest beholder of the holy of holies. 

 

Two hours.  TWO HOURS later, I walked out of that spa and the whole two hours, I thought of this letter to you.  It got me through the procedure.  It entertained me as I stared at the ceiling and twiddled my fingers. 

 

So, T, while I love you dearly and I really do wish you well, getting my hoo-ah waxed just isn’t the same without you.

 

Love,

 

Me

On Fantasy Fest

Holy Crap.  I have been working on this post for 30 minutes.  Gah!  Anyway, amidst a whole myriad of problems, I can't figure out how to rotate photos or post them normally here, so I created an album of our trip to Key West for Fantasy Fest. 

Please note, clothing is optional and costumes are encouraged.  Open with caution.  We had a lot of fun and once you get over gawking at the naked people, it was really just a big party. 

Fantasy Fest Album

I'll add some more photos next week. 

On Megan Fox

It used to be that Angelina Jolie was the one woman that could turn this heterosexual, married, mother of two into a card carrying lesbian.  You know, if she were to walk in the door of my work, look at me with those huge eyes and say, “You, I want you.”  My only stipulation would be that the words Billy Bob would never been mentioned in our home. 

 

 

Here lately though, the attraction is waning and with every kid she and the Bradster buy, have or steal, it wanes some more.  I don’t even like my own kids half the time, why would I want to take on a whole country of them? 

 

My hetero except for that one woman attentions have moved to a less settled, definitely adventurous type of girl.   Megan Fox.

 

Come on, admit it, when she leans over that old rusted Camaro in Transformers, your knees go a little weak.  She is a dirty girl.  (Ok, I will quit channeling a 13 year boy now)

 

Anyhoo, let’s take a minute to gaze upon the hotness that is Megan Fox. 

 

 

On the Election

        I must admit that I have never voted.  Not once.  I never felt that I knew enough to make an intelligent decision.  Please don’t stone me.  I know it is no excuse and I do plan on rectifying it this election. 

 

        As I grow older and my children inch towards becoming productive members of our society, I see more and more how my choices may actually affect the world around me and the future.  And even though I never voted, I just assumed myself Republican.  From what I did know, the Republican party seemed to mesh with my southern style belief system. 

 

        But let me tell you, McCain scares me.  This will sound incredibly ill-informed and I am working on changing that, but my gut just says no.  I read an article on McCain, in Playboy of all places, and it opened my eyes to the type of polictian he is vs the type of politician he is claiming to be.  I kept telling myself that it’s safe to vote Republican even after the mess the W has made this great country of ours.  I kept telling myself that Obama is so far out in left field that it will never work.  I read about his plans to increase taxes and all that other scary stuff that Democrats do.  I listened to other Republicans talk badly about him and formed my opinions based on what they said.  I think though, I am going to change my mind and you know why? 

 

        Michelle Obama

 

        I listened to her speech at the DNC and was incredibly impressed by how very articulate, engaging and strongly she portrays her and Barack’s hopes and dreams for this country.  And while Barack may not be exactly ready for the presidency and may have needed to wait a few more years to gain additional experience, he’s the nominee and I am on the verge of moving my support to his side.  With a strong woman, such as Michelle, by his side, hopefully, he may just be able to pull off what he is promising.  Change. 

 

        One thing Michelle stated in her speech which really got me was that we need to stop voting and living our life in fear, but rather hope and strive for all that we can be as people and a nation. 

 

        Too many times, I sit back and do nothing because it is different and strange and I am afraid.  I want to quit living this way and become an active part of my own life.  I will do my research and try to make the best informed decision I can, but for now, after hearing the potential first lady speak, I am a believer. 

On You Can Run, but You Can't Hide

from yourself, that is.   While it was exhilarating being drunk and crazy Erika for about six weeks, it was also exhausting and a bit nerve wracking.  Larry and I traveled for about 30 hours last week, which was plenty of time to analyze my craziness to death and decide that while he liked my boost in self-confidence, we really didn’t want to go down the road I had been traipsing down. 

 

We were both in a wedding while we were gone and after witnessing some outlandish couple behavior from the guests and wedding party alike, I am all the more thankful for my marriage and the steadiness of it.  I can honestly say Larry and I are better together today, almost twelve years later, than we were when we first met. 

 

A co-worker and I were talking today about relationships and we agreed that while you need to work on the relationship, it shouldn’t be hard work to get along with the person to whom you are married, dating, etc. 

 

So, let’s just call my nuttiness a bump in the road that thankfully didn’t turn into a major obstacle.  

On Being Brought Back to Reality

I was cruising along the fantastical highway headed straight for trouble and looking forward to it when smack! right in the face, brought back to reality and my boring, suburban life.  Not only was a bucket of cold water dumped on my head, but I also feel like a total heel and I am so thankful that I never arrived in the land of trouble even though it looked oh so inviting. 

 

Here’s the kicker, Larry knew I was on this path and while he may not have known how fast I was flying, he, being the more adventurous of the two, was strangley excited.  Oh, the doors my trouble could have opened up.  Now, though, that I received the smackdown, back into my little shell I am climbing.  Cover me up and block out the light.

 

What the hell was I thinking? 

On the Flip Side

Well, that last post was a bit of a downer, no?  Must make note to self to dust this site off more often and add a bit of cheer.  Life has carried on and while the restlessness pokes fun at me from the outskirts of my consciousness, I have reined it in and progress forward. 

Last Thursday, Peyton turned 6, so we had a celebratory weekend with a pool party on Saturday for him that lasted till 5, and then turned into a party for the adults that lasted till 12.  We spent Sunday on some friends' new boat, which is always fun and exhausting.  Monday was spent recuperating. 

And see, that last paragraph is why this blog is generally on the depressive side.  Entries recounting the tales of weekend activities are boring! 

Let's talk about fantasies instead, shall we?  I am generally not a fanciful person, especially when it comes to those of a sexual nature.  I am pleased to announce though, that I think I may be finally moving into that libido rush that's rumored to strike women as they approach 35.  I guess there is one good thing about getting older. 

My thoughts haven't gotten crazy or voyeuristic, but they are more frequent and not always involving my husband. oooooooooooooooh    I feel a little dirty writing that.  How far am I willing to let this entry go? 

I will tell you this (and Kristie will be the only one to really understand), I find myself at this very moment in Guinevere's shoes.  The original, not the movie or the remakes.  (Oh, Dr. Leeds how I miss you!)

On Restlessness

I feel I am dancing on the edge of something really reckless.  I’m not sure what it will be yet, but something is coming.  My chest is constricted and I have this energy coursing through me that is definitely not normal. 

I’ve always walked a pretty straight line.  Acted according to the good girl’s rules with a bit of badness thrown in without going overboard.  I wasn’t promiscuous in high school.  Hell, I made my boyfriend wait 3 years till we were freshmen in college before giving in and going all the way.  I left him for my husband.  Need I say more? 

There have been a couple of moments that may have stretched into days of crazy, but I’ve always had this innate sense of responsibility that held me from going to far.  I’m really tired of being the responsible one. 

Being a grown up just sucks.  I am tired of the money issue.  I am sick of my 9 to 5 desk job.  Being accountable for two little ones and a husband is really starting to grate on my nerves.  I’m tired of riding the fence between wanting more but holding back because I am scared to let go. 

Can you just throw your whole life away and still live with yourself? 

On Nipples

Let’s get personal, shall we?  At the tender age of ten, my mother bought me my first bra and if recollection serves me correctly, this was not a training bra, but rather, wow, your boobs are really starting to develop and jiggle quite unnecessarily under your shirts.  It wasn’t long before I reached my high school size of a C cup and I was definitely one of the more well endowed girls in our class. 

I remember my senior year squeezing into a bikini that was a little sister’s of a friend and worrying about my hips being too big and my cleavage to revealing.  Later that year, as I wore my own more conservative suit to a party, one of the guys asked, “Where’s your other suit.  I liked it.”  Indeed you did.  It was then I realized that if you show enough of the forbidden fruit, you could get away with so much more. 

Due to the fact that I grew into a young woman so rapidly, I never experienced the perkiness of most teenagers and failed the pencil test from a young age.  My hope was that like my mother after I bore children that the mammoth glands on my chest would shrink to a more controllable size. 

Up until a year ago, I restricted the poor boobies to a size D cup when they probably would have fit more comfortably into a DD.  The funny thing was no one ever believed me when I told them the size I wore.  It was never that apparent in regular shirts, but if I were to pull out my old wedding photos with me in a dress I barely fit into that day, one might think I could smother a small country. 

Imagine my great delight when after speaking with a family friend who worked for a plastic surgeon that most of their reductions were covered by insurance.  Sign me up! 

On April 12, 2007, I went in for surgery to have my breasts reduced and lifted.  Finally, I had the perfect, don’t always have to wear a bra, can now wear lingerie, and will only hold one pencil breasts, I always wanted.  Except for one thing. . .

My nipples are out of line. 

One sits higher than the other.  This wasn’t such a big deal as I know it is probably normal even for people who haven’t had surgery, but I bought these new bras and I have a problem.  The bras are so comfortable.  So comfortable that I threw away a few of my old ratty ones after buying them.  Here’s the thing though, they are demi and that one little nipple that sits higher than the other one?  Well, it just wants to poke out above the cup line.  I tuck it in, it peeks back out.  I adjust my bra, it sneaks back out.

I continuously look like the one nippled bandit. 

I am not going to complain because I know how blessed I am to have this problem and not amazing huge, get in my way all the time, boobs, but it is a bit annoying. 

I’m pretty close to saying to hell with bras and just wear my nipple petals all the time.