My Husband Doesn't Deserve Me

My husband, he doesn't deserve me. Hear me out though, he truly doesn't deserve me. I am nowhere near the same woman he married, that woman- a 20 year old deer in the headlights, a vivid imagination, and dreams that could keep even the hopeless fed and fearless for a lifetime. That right there, that is the woman he deserves. 

He works too hard, and I too little. 

He gets up at the asscrack of dawn, goes to pt, comes home at breakfast time with barely enough time to shower and have a bowl of cereal before he rushes back out the door, headed back to work that will let out at god knows what hour (if he ever even gets to come home). Whether he is sitting at a desk doing counselings, working on his tank, or out in the field for weeks on end, he is one of the most driven men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. But when he gets home, oh when he gets back, he only thinks of us. Our little turd of a son, and his lazy at best wife. 

See, while he is toiling away at his job, I go from taking care of the little boy we brought into this world and cleaning the house. But most days, he comes back and sees the house in utter ruin. From crafts and a half eaten lunch on the table, to laundry piling up in the living room because I wanted to spend the day outside with Sterling and the dogs completely neglecting my chores. Sometimes, he even does the cleaning after a long rotation and continues to make me a bag of popcorn and a cup of coffee just the way I like it and telling me I need to relax and to go take a few minutes away from our boy. 

He is too understanding of my moods

I admit it, I am a crazy control freak. I feel left out, and I can go from, "Yes, babe, you can go out with the boys" to "Where the fuck are you and why aren't you home?!" at midnight because when he is able to sleep at home, our bed is where he belongs when I am ready for bed and tired of waiting up for him. 

He loves to see me happy and goofy and will do anything to make that happen. Do I need an entire bottle of wine and a hefty bag full of chocolate? He will search till the end of the world for my favorite chocolates and for my utmost favorite wine. Do I need to get a day away from our son? he tells me to go and get my nails done or to go out with the girls (when I have friends, because every move it takes me a year to make new ones). He doesn't give me a time line, or complain when I stay out past midnight. 

He loves me without limits

I can be the biggest cunt in the world, ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you the same. But he is the biggest sweetheart the universe has ever seen. He approaches with caution when he needs to and like a freight train when I need to get back on track. He love me even though I am atheist and he a christian. He loves me when I refuse to pray before a meal and when I scoff when his family ask me to go to church with them and when I tell them there is no way in hell my son will be baptized before he is able to make that decision on his own because he himself should be able to chose what he believes in and we will not predetermine that for him. He love me when I am happy and full of kisses and when I am angry and about to burn down the entire town. He loves me when I am not a very lovable person. But most of all, he knows I love him when I am being stubborn and refuse to show it.

My husband deserves someone like I used to be. Someone driven and reliable. And god damn it, i am going to be what he deserves again, even if it kills me.  

I hate it here.

I hate Maine. I hate living with people who wont step back and let me raise my son how i want to. I hate being so far away from my husband. I hate how he barely makes time for me and him to have a conversation any more. I hate the Cole's and their immaturity. I hate being a mom 75% of the time, 90% when i am not allowed to parent how i normally do and people over step their boundaries. I hate when people say they can afford to buy something, when their wife says they cant, so i refuse to even try. i hate how my downstairs neighbors wake up my son every night from being too damn loud. I hate how my alcoholic father in law is always trying to take my son out with him after he has been drinking. I hate how people go through my room or constantly in here watching tv when there are 2 other tvs in the house. I hate when im not allowed to clean, cook, or even wash my son's bottles without a fight. I hate this bed. I hate my body. I hate how i dont have a career anymore. I hate that i have pretty much amounted to nothing after all my hard work to get past a horrid travesty of a childhood. i hate that i have to be awake by 6 every morning even when my husband is around because even on weekends i dont get a break.


as if you couldnt already tell, i hate everything tonight.

Mirena IUD; The Good, The Bad, and Absolutely TMI

I was asked by someone to do an informative post about birth control, specifically my IUD, and in typical fashion, I shall enlighten you, gross you out, and dish on my experience past and present on this wonderfully terrible device. I am not scared to admit that I started my period early. I am pretty positive I was the only one who had 'become a woman' in the 3rd grade class and needless to say that day my white corduroys covered in blood originating from my vagina made me hyperventilate and legitimately made me believe I was dying.... written will and all, delegating who got my Pokemon cards and my beloved teddy bear and favorite gel pen set. I even went as far as giving said will to my teacher who had to awkwardly tell me that this atrocity was natural. Natural my ass, I. WAS. DYING. Needless to say now, I am not dead nor am I dying any time soon, short of my husband suffocating me in my sleep with my own pillow... but that is a story for another day; one you would read in a news paper with the headline, He Finally Killed The Slut. I won't be telling that story, because I would obviously be 6 feet under. 

Along with the early menstruation, I also had an early OPEN sign hung on my lady bits. No, I didn't lose it in third grade, but I did before high school and that meant that I had to be on birth control, because in all honesty what 13 year old is ready to be a mother? I'm 22 and a mom, and I'm STILL not ready to be a mother, but mommy on I must. I did the pill, the nuva-ring, the shot, the arm implant and guess what, yeah you guessed it, I forgot to take the pill that young, forgot about the ring being in, and had a terrible reaction to both the shot and the implant... so the ripe young age of 16, I asked about the Mirena. At that point, it was only deemed safe and effective for those who had gone through childbirth, but they were having an awesome experiment trials for those who hadn't, and I was lucky enough to be able to get my name on that small list of recipients. I read through the info and all it took was 75% saw no periods after the first year! I was game. So they inserted it after dilating my cervix a bit which was a little uncomfortable but doable and in a few months I was blood free. Wasn't going to kill me, period NO WAY! I had saved my life. If only my eight year old self could see me now! I was going to take over the world or maybe just have worry free sex with half the senior class. 

After the drug trial was over, they took the old one out and put the new one in, maybe about a year before i had gotten married. I was still golden with the no period thing and was ready to fuck. Then the next December comes around a month after getting married in 2012 and my amazing husband knocks it out of place and my doctor (I swear military doctors are the dumbest pieces of shit known to man) refused to check it because I was not eligible for a pap smear through Tricare because I was a week shy of being 21. Go figure, another few months go by because I had to wait for an appointment with the SAME doctor and comes to find out, it was lodged in my uterine wall, and they had to dilate me again to get the fucker out. They decided to put me on the pill again so I could heal, then I got pregnant with that bundle of joy? in the next room refusing to take a nap, though he is tired and fed and dry.... 

The bleeding after giving birth made me channel my little girl self and convince myself that it would never stop and that I was going to die... this time from slit wrists in the bathtub. Make the paramedics question if all the blood was from my wrists or from the red river that was coming out of my crotch, where's this Moses character and why wont he split the red sea and give me a break damnit?! Well finally after 2 months of terrible maxipads, ruined underwear, and stained washcloths, I had a few days of bloody freedom and I was so tired of not being protected (pull out method and condoms shouldn't have to be used if you are married) and being up at all hours of the night I told my doctor that I had already had my period when I hadn't. Ladies DO NOT DO THIS. Make sure you have your periods first, because what happened after they inserted the one I have in now, will make you angry at the world and possibly go and shoot up your local college. (Too soon?) Another 2 months have gone by, and Mt. St. Helen's has finally run out of lava. I bled and there were flash floods and I promise you it looked like someone had been murdered in my pants. 

Today, I am sitting on the couch, maxi-pad free eating more cake than a 120lb girl should be able to consume and I am asking you, why don't you take the plunge? It lasts 5 years, NO PERIODS, and most importantly, NO BABIES! You can have your cake and eat it too! Sure if your man is hung like a horse he can feel it every now and again, but it won't hinder your sex life. But if you are a slut like I once was and you decide to get the IUD, then PLEASE use a condom. These wonderfully terrible devices do NOT protect you from and stds or stis that are on the circuit today, and I would hate for you to get something that would kill your sex vibes or worse, make you un-fuckable. Be safe. Be Baby Free. And Slut On.

The Domesticated Struggle

I solely apologize for the wait for the 5th installment in the Reformed Slut series, but I SWEAR I have a good excuse- My son was sick, I was also sick, and between that and work, I was strapped (more like duct-taped without shaving) balls to the wall with one thing or another. But ALAS! I am back ... quite possibly a little less slutty, but still unashamed of everything. 

My husband will tell you that I am one of the most cluttered and messy, yet cleanest and OCD people he has met, and I am okay with a tornado crazed house every once in a while even though it drives him crazy. In our house, the cleaning is my responsibility along with taking care of our crotch fruit and not going to lie, cleaning is not on the top of my list. 

I'm going to tell you a little story about my last room mate.... 

He was my cousin and I moved in to help him out because his last tenant stiffed him on rent too many times to count, so I was put on the lease and then hell ensued. First off, let me state that he has a zoo in his house and between the lizards and snakes and bugs (breeding cockroaches, mice, and crickets), it had a very distinct smell of bedding and heat lamps on the verge of burning out, but he also never CLEANED. Dishes would sit in the sink for weeks, the cat boxes would never be cleaned (he had 5 cats at one point), and I swear after the 90 gallon turtle tank exploded all over the living room, I thought I was going to die in there. 

I know, I KNOW, why didn't I keep it clean? BECAUSE THERE WAS NO WAY TO KEEP UP WITH EVERYTHING. I would do the tanks and the litter boxes almost every day, but still they would smell within minutes. I would do the dishes almost every night before I went to bed after work, but still by morning there wasn't even a bowl left in the cupboard for cereal in the morning, and for a 30 year old bachelor, I began to realize why this kid had to wait 25 years to lose his V-card and hasn't had anyone since that one woman. 

So when I look around my house today, I realize a basket of folded laundry and some dust on the lamp shades isn't the end of the world and I am okay with picking up my feet and relaxing with my 4 month old. Sometimes the struggle is real to be everything- wife, cook, maid, and mother. Today is one of those days and not going to lie, I chose wife and mother. 

Some of the most creative people's places are cluttered, but I'd eat off my dirty (mopped twice a week) floors whereas my old apartment I was scared to sit on the couch.

Sex After Baby

This week, not going to lie, I was struggling with a topic to post about, until today while on a walk with my neighbor and our boys, had it donned on me that this topic would be perfect for this week. My neighbor had their bundle of joy about a month before I popped out my very own crotch fruit a few months back and she revealed to me that she had not had sex since he was born... This amazed me in many ways, because my husband and I have never had this problem, and in all honesty, our sex life hasn't changed much.  Today, I am going to delve pretty far into our personal life and give you some tips on what to do after baby comes.

First off the majority of women aren't allowed to have sex after labor for at LEAST 6 weeks, but for the lucky few (like me) who hadn't tore and had no damage other than some swelling, then sex can come a whole lot sooner. I know some of you are thinking about the eternal river of blood that is enevitable after birth, but to be honest, if there's a will there's a way, and if you're horny, sex while on your period isn't the end of the world and they did create showers and washing machines for a reason. When you also factor in the never ending night of feedings and no sleep, you might be too tired. Honestly, even when you're tired sex can be mind blowing.

You need to make your husband feel wanted, it's hard, I'm aware, to make him feel like he is still attractive to you after squeezing that watermelon out of your cooter that he himself put in there, but he has needs just like you do and even a simple hand job will do the trick.

My husband and I are still in love like we were before we were married and the word 'no' barely exists in our relationship when it comes to being intimate with each other. But I still keep wondering why people say sex dies after children.... because we obviously never got that memo. Start slow and work your way back to sex. They call it making love for a reason and it's a connection that can't be replaced when with the right person.

My biggest tip is to use condoms. There is nothing worse than finding out at your 8 week check up that you are pregnant with another monster. And to make time for each other, a little effort goes a long way when it comes to sex. 

The Nake Truth

The naked body, your temple, your free moving self, whatever you call it, I know you've stood in the mirror countless times checking yourself out. Whether or not you were looking for flaws or perfection, you look none-the-less. I know I do. It's normal and even gives you a confidence boost that can last you almost all day. But guess what? You aren't the only one looking at that skin suit you wear everyday, others are too. At the mall. Work. Out to eat with your husband. Everyone you cross paths with is summing up your physique as either pleasing or an atrocity. This post today, isn't about you checking yourself out, or those once-overs people walking by give you, it is about those little photos that are taken by a web cam or standing in front of your mirror. Pictures people may ask for. Yes, you guessed it, today I am talking about NUDES. 

Like the fierce lioness you are, I too have stood in front of that mirror and computer in barely a thing, sometimes in nothing at all but my tattoos and piercings posing for some guy who begged me to send one. Well, truth be told, I have sent many, only to one person back in the day (who sadly isn't my husband) who was a bit irresponsible to say the least. The day of my wedding though, I got an email from a friend saying that they saw me, naked, and it wasn't on my Suicide Girls page. I was shocked and pissed to holy hell that everyone I knew had at that moment, the chance to see me in my rawest form.

As of late, the pictures have recently come back to the surface, making a grande appearance in a feed of other hoes from my home town, made it to first on the list even. Am I mad this time? No. Why am I not mad? Because it's my body. Though I am married, have a child and no longer lead the life of a bonefied  slut, I once was, and that body belonged to that wide-eyed, 18 year old woman.

Ladies, embrace the flesh. Take those pics if you must. Send them to every Tom, Dick, or Harry you meet, but if they get into the wrong hands, embrace it fully. Obviously, you are someone that people want to see. And honestly, who doesn't love the female body in all it's beauty? Because trust me, I do.

About them Exes and Oh's.

If you would go and poll my friends, the majority rule will be that I am terrible with advice. Mainly, because I have a 'get over it or fight for it' attitude, and usually I will straight up tell you if you are even worth fighting for in a given situation. I am more of a listener, or fact giver. Ask me about any insect species in the world or about Jeffrey Dahmer and I could probably tell you the answer. But relationship advice? Not so much. Hear me out though, this little bit of advice I DO have, might just save you from years of hating that crush who kissed your best friend.

First off, we all have exes. Granted if you are my age and haven't had a single ex, then cudos to you, but I am calling bullshit. I group exes as crushes, one night stands, a few dates, or been together for ten years before calling it quits. It is anyone who had the power to hurt you and probably did. One night stands are in there because you shared physically, and in reality, you gave some piece of yourself to them that at the time, you probably never even noticed.

My advice is to throw all of that other advice away, that shit you get from magazines or advice blogs or even Dear Anne columns. There is no need to delete their phone number, unfriend them from Facebook, or shred any bit of evidence that they ever existed. Because truth is, you will see them again, catch yourself creeping their profiles, or hearing from others how they are doing; So, tell me what is the point of doing all that useless, waste of time, bullshit? There isn't, you are creating more work for yourself than is actually needed. Both my husband and I still have photos of our exes. Some are on his phone, on my computer, his computer, hell we even have some in hard copy in that giant photo box I keep on the top of the fridge. Most people would get mad at their partner, thinking they still have a hold on us or whatever, but not us, we know it was a piece of our past. Though, I've seen some pics that make me want to go bury myself alive, but not because of the girl in them, but because after having a child, my body image is all fucked up, and DAMN, how he swung that, I have no idea. 

Okay, back on topic, you have to separate the feelings you once had for them and remember they are are a human being, full of hopes and dreams and mistakes... just like you are. You shouldn't spread rumors or talk shit even if they do to you. It is childish and shows how much you didn't respect them to begin with and when you are in your 20's, you should be acting like an adult. 

I get it, it hurts. I know just as much as you do, how to pain isn't just in your heart, but it is an all over body hurt, and that is okay. Time will sort that out, and a piece of you will always be theirs, but out of sight, out of mind doesn't work. If you need to talk to someone, there is always someone around, but to try and forget a part of your past is just unrealistic. Exes shape your view of men, show you examples of what not to look for later on, and ultimately they lead you to your perfect match. So next time you have a break up, cry it out, put that old pic of you two in a box for storage, and eat a tub of ice cream. One day, you will see each other again, and if you aren't ignoring his existence and attempting to forget him, those feelings will not come back. Trust me on this one. The feelings will fade, and that moment of- 'Oh, THAT is why it didn't work' will come, naturally on it's own. 

From one slut to another, I give you that advice.