Yes, yes, yes.
In order to make a dramatic comeback to the world of blogging (and to ensure the highest number of blog hits possible :::GRIN::: ) I am going to talk about the one subject I have NEVER BROACHED on this blog.
To be fair, I have had fantastic reasons for why I keep this subject close to the vest. I don’t feel the world is entitled to know about what my husband and I do in the privacy of our marriage bed. What we do (and trust me, it’s just the normal stuff) belongs to us.
Also, with the exception of a few blogs that get it right, I feel like blogs which talk about sex get really vulgar and are in poor taste.
I’m going to attempt to hit the high class notes of this particular subject (although that statement in itself is rather silly, if I do say so myself) and talk about sex in a new way. While I was at Fitbloggin earlier this year, my roomie Sue (aka Mrs. Fatass) said that she had written a post once about getting her mojo back.
And frankly, that’s the route I’m going to take here.
I’m also going to start it from the most embarrassing story (one very FEW people have ever been told) to illustrate the ground I have covered over the timeline of the diet.
In the fall 2008, when I was at my heaviest, Matt and I were cuddling up on a chilly night. He was sweetly caressing my behemoth tummy in the dark, and bent down to kiss it. He paused for a moment, and said “Wait, isn’t that your boob?”
All of a sudden, and by no fault of Matt’s, our intimate time turned into a feeling of humiliation for me. I am a person of considerable drive, mind you, and to say I am still newlywed in love with my hubby would be an understatement. But in that moment, I realized that my overweight body had taken on a love life of its own, leaving Matt and I both behind.
It was a love life centered around 2 liters of coke and oreos.
Over the past 3 years I have whittled and chipped away at those insecurities regarding my body. I don’t doubt that Matt has always found me attractive, but when I scroll back through the before pictures I have, I wonder HOW he would have found me attractive. (Cause let’s face it- girls stew on questions like these for years.)
That’s the mystery of love I suppose, and this post is not exactly about love.
It’s about a woman who has gone from having her tummy mistaken for a boob into a woman who is blossoming into a self assertive cat on the prowl. (After this post, ya’ll might be thankful I rarely talk about sex!)
See, there was a time in my life when I looked at my body and just thought “This is as good as it’s ever gonna get.” And even in some of our more playful encounters, I had that sinking feeling inside me.
“I hope he doesn’t see that patch of stretch marks.”
“Can he feel the cottage cheese on my tukus?”
“For the love of all that is holy, DO NOT let him turn on the light!!!”
After that horrible belly-boob incident, I vowed that one day I wouldn’t have to worry about it any more.
Tonight, for the first time I can ever remember since I started doing the deed, how my body looked and felt were the last thing on my mind. In fact, they didn’t even cross my mind.
A) I didn’t feel the need to do a lighting test to make sure every single light in a 3 mile radius of our bedroom was turned off.
B) I didn’t feel the urge to lay on the bed at a particular angle so my belly would be tucked away safely under my side.
C) I didn’t adjust my boobs a billion times so when I laid on my back, the twins wouldn’t be laying on the floor on either side of the bed. (OK, that’s a slight exaggeration. But only by about a foot.)
There was nothing to be done except ENJOY THE MOMENT.
(And enjoy it I did.)
I know there are lots of movements and groups out there screaming “FAT IS SEXY!” And it can be sexy.
But it can also be dangerous. Of course for your body. But also for your emotional health. Heck, even for your love life.
I wouldn’t have believed it at all until I went through this journey. In fact, as a chubby girl for her entire adult life, I belonged to the “fat is sexy” club for a long long time. I made the best of my assets, girdled up the problem areas, and made sure I had the best looking hair and makeup possible. That worked for a while. But the problem with “Fat is sexy” doesn’t have to do with the weight itself. It has to do with the emotional hold the weight has over you.
How can you possibly embrace the intimate relationship in front of you when your brain is ticking off items from your checklist? (See items A through C above)
Because items A through C were never about my actual body, even though at first they seem like they are. They were always about feeling good enough about myself to let another person love me completely. To come out from the darkness of a bedroom and into a well lit area. (Disclaimer- well lit does NOT mean PUBLIC.)
This diet has taught me so many things about myself. What I am good at, what I fail at and need to work on, what I enjoy and what I dislike. It has forced me to put “taking care of me” on the top of my list day after day after month after year. Somewhere between the sweat and the scale and the shrinking- I LEARNED TO LOVE MY BODY FOR EXACTLY WHAT IT IS.
It’s not Hollywood. It’s not camera ready. It’s more renaissance woman than anything. But it’s all me. It’s a body that has worked hard for major change. It’s a mind that has gone from feeling hopeless to knowing that kicking butt and taking names is always an option. It’s about a heart that was once skittish to let people in, even my own husband, to a heart that’s delighting in getting close to others. It’s about learning celebrate with the lights on. (I still prefer candle light, but that’s just cause I’m all romantic.)
The fact is our sexual nature is a blending of all that we are. Body, brain, and heart, all working together. I was totally in sync for the first time. And I have never felt sexier.
So there it is.
My first blog post about sex.