OF SEX AND RAZORS

Razors. Relationships. I hadn't realized how well one reflected the other until recently. Think about it...you have everything from single-blade, yellow plastic, ghetto dollar store jobbies, to fantastic, five-bladed, lube-included, ergonomically designed drugstore top-shelfers. It seems as though different razors were not so much made for price points as they were for different stages of a relationship. Case in point:

A BRAND NEW RELATIONSHIP
My guess is you have one of the latter mentioned razors, and here is why. In a new relationship, you always need to be ready for the hookup. It's true...what lady wants to get a call for an impromptu date (a nice way to say booty call) from her new beau and have to spend oodles of time shaving her legs, etc. hoping not to nic any bit of her glowing skin? No lady, that's who. So you jump in the shower, grab the perfectly shaped handle of your expensive razor, and get to work. If you are super new in the relationship, or looooove the hookup and are obsessed with smoothness, you may even have a combo situation. One of those mid-level brands, that has 3 or 4 blades, to get the minute hairs the VIP razor may have missed. And the detail work. Those 5-bladed wonders, with heads the size of a softball, just don't cut it around the vag.

A FEW MONTHS INTO IT
Chances are at this point, the frantic, we-just-started-doing-it booty calls have slowed into a more predictable routine of sex on the weekends and the occasional hump-day treat. Most ladies downgrade from the VIP razor into the 3- or 4-blade razors (usually named after goddesses). These are good for taking your time, and do the job well. It's also not too embarrassing when you are co-showering to have your partner see the razor. The VIP is a little intimidating and pre-supposing, while the next category of razor indicates your obsessive budgeting and a general lack of caring about hygiene. Trust me on this one...

AT THE 'FART AROUND EACH OTHER' STAGE
Whether you like it or not, the magic and the sexiness is gone. Kaput. Out the window. It left around the time he walks through the door to find you with your hair in a scrunchie, face mask crustily in place, zits in all their glory, in your slouch socks and stained T. Yep, its happened. The sexiness is gone. Aaaaaand so is your taste in razors. Cause let's face it: a few straggles, or even the prickly/bushy/hairy situation has taken over. My guess is, you are sporting the yellow and blue, single-blade razor that grows rust almost the minute you take it out of the dollar store and open that crinkly cellophane package (you know, the one with the price proudly displayed on the front...ONLY ONE DOLLAR!!!!!). Ugh. you might even be at the 'sharing the razor in a pinch' stage. That's just nasty.

So next time you go to buy a razor, stop and think...where is your relationship? Where do you want it to be? How do you want your friends to judge your sex life? And choose wisely.

Oh, and don't look in my shower. A girl's gotta have secrets, right???

yowza

Well yesterday was depressing. No more of that, not till next year anyway!

untitled

oh memorial day
what am i memorializing?
failures.
a failed marriage...
started at 20, with preconceptions
and secrets
destined to crash and burn.

it makes sense that it ended
but there are two girls
left in the wake
of my fear, insecurity
selfishness
ugliness
unlovability
fat

so many other naked women haunted my marriage
entered my marriage bed
stole my husbands heart.
i fought for little pieces of his
diseased
broken
perverted
heart
thinking that was the best i could do
the best i deserved
all i could get
wrong

i gave years of my life
the health of my body
the life of my heart
the desires and dreams of my soul
to a man that didnt deserve them.
some days i cant
live
enjoy
dream
hope
feel beauty

but its time that he stop taking that away
my Kinsman redeemer said
its time to let go of the life you lost
so you can capture the life
I have to give you.
so here goes.

My first time

This is my first foray into the world of blogging. I have little time, little motivation, but lots to say. I have been a single mom (SM from here on out) for over 4 years, and have found it to be difficult and exhausting and full of crazy. Like, quantifiable amounts of crazy, oozing from every crack, corner, and pore of our lives.

A bit about 'us':
I am 27 and have just finished my first semester of college. Yeah, yeah, better late than never...except when it comes to your period. [insert shameless segway here]
My oldest daughter, Genevieve, is 6 and about to finish kindergarten. She reads, writes, and creates general mayhem, all while looking like a 14 year old. I am whittling my bad-boyfriend stick with my toes as we speak.
Isabella (or Izzy) is 3 1/2 and almost always naked. Some people, myself included, drink when 5 o'clock hits. Izzy...gets nude. And I mean butt-ass nekkid. And then dances around the house/livingroom/back yard/walmart aisle. And if it weren't for all of the dirty old men around, it would be kosher.

I have spent the last 18 months of my life desperately trying to find myself...as an adult, as a woman, as a global citizen. Trying to be defined by something other than 'mother' or 'exwife' (more on that one later) is the quintessential struggle that I have to overcome. And talk about transparency...the interwebs is the best place to do it. I am not catholic, but I totally identify with the feeling of freedom one must find in dumping all of your shit on the shoulders of another human being. Having someone who knows all of that stuff. Even if they never come out of their holy closet.