Reclaiming Your Sex Esteem

Okay...if you are one of those women who get nervous when people talk openly about sex, then I should probably advise you to exit this blog immediately. However, I won't because I think women need to talk about sex MORE often. Not only is it fun, but according to a recent study, I am not as weird as I thought because talking about sex is...let me get a whoop! whoop!...healthy!

I thought for a brief second I should refrain from writing this blog today (I mean my Catholic-Irish momma reads this thing, and she likes to pretend I'm as innocent as the Virgin I was named after.), but Rick is away on a business trip; I'm knee deep in my most hormonal time of the month; and frankly, I've just got sex on the brain. It's been four whole days people!!! And, then I see this article today talking about a recent study of women and sex. Well, I took it as a sign...

I'm taking this opportunity to break down some more chains society has put around women. It's time to let our sexual beasts breathe, ladies! It's time for an adult birds and the bees talk. (Sorry, Mom!)

Here's the thing...I enjoy sex, and I'm not afraid to have fun with it or talk about it or just plain do it. And, according to that study, open communication about sex increases sexual satisfaction, frequency and self esteem. All. Good. Things.

Unfortunately, it appears most women feel strange talking about sex or being sexually aggressive. They are worried about going against the sexual grain, if you will, because they have been told their whole life it's not proper for a good girl to be sexual. Leave that to the sluts and the bad girls with no daddies.

Um...NEWS FLASH!!!!!! I have a daddy, and I don't consider myself a slut. In fact, I think my sexual beast is quite a healthy one, thank you very much. And, I would imagine if you sat my husband down and asked what he thought about it, he would offer no complaints. Take that, society!

Look, I'm a mom of three kids under the age of eight. I know it's hard to feel sexy sometimes when you have kids hanging off your arms and legs and you spend your entire day running errands, cooking meals and feeling completely momified. It's almost as if marriage and kids is the antithesis to sexual excitement. My life was turned upside down and rocked all over the place after I gave birth to my first son. I felt fat, boring and tired. I felt pulled in so many directions I could barely keep my feet on the ground, and to top it all off, I was the great milking cow 24 hours a day. Needless to say, the last thing on my mind was sex.

It became quickly apparent, though, that by sacrificing my sexual beast for my growing place in Mommyhood, I was sacrificing a very vital part of my womanhood. I just didn't feel like myself. And, I can tell you, with every day that passed sex-free, I felt less connected to my husband. The truth is: sex is about intimacy, and without it, you start to lose yourselves and forget to reconnect in the most basic, physical form.

Think about it: makeup sex, funeral sex, wedding sex, crying sex and happy sex. These labels came from somewhere! People crave sex when they most need intimacy, when they are most emotional. Some of the most awesome sex I've ever had was after a huge fight or when I was really sad about something or really high on life because something amazing just happened. It's in those moments we truly connect with our men...and consequently, ourselves.

So, if you're in the mommy rut, how do you get out of it and reclaim your sex esteem?

The best advice I can give you is to make sex an open topic in your relationship. Talk about it, joke about it, play with it. It's all about having fun and taking the pressure off. Sex should invigorate you; it shouldn't be a chore. I guarantee if you give it a try, you'll find your little sexual revolution pays off in the end.

Here are a few scientifically-proven sexy facts to help get you in the mood:

1. Sex reduces stress. I use sex to get rid of headaches. It's more effective than Advil, and it's so much more entertaining. I swear it totally relaxes every muscle in your body.

2. Sex makes you happy. Studies found couples who increased sex from once per month to once per week experienced the happiness equivalent of receiving a $50,000 raise. Not bad, huh?

3. Sex increases your immune system. Sex increases your antibodies, which fight off infections. That would explain why I crave sex when I'm sick! Duh!

4. Orgasms ease pain. During an orgasm, a woman's pain threshold can increase by 74.6%. Not sure how that helps in my daily life, but it's interesting. I can tell you I feel instantly less sick and more energized after sex.

5. Regular sex makes couples more secure in their relationship. I personally think this is true. I've seen tons of women hit on my husband, and I don't worry. I think our healthy sexual relationship gives me more confidence in our everyday relationship. I feel more connected to him and less concerned about losing him to some other chick. And, we all know men hate a jealous woman!

So, I hope I didn't offend too many readers with my bedroom talk, but I'm thinking there are more women intrigued by sex than not. After all, Sex and the City wasn't one of the most popular shows of all time for no reason. The truth is: sex is a huge part of life, and whether you want to admit it or not, we are innately sexual beings.

Look, if your sex life is rockin', then more power to you. But, if you feel you need a little boost, then I say you should go home tonight, tell society to shove their outdated expectations out the window and release your sexual beast for a little sprint around the block. Trust me, you won't be disappointed, and you might just find you don't want to turn back either. Just remember to turn off your brain and let your body have a little fun.

 



 

To the Land of Bikini and Back

Whoa! It's been two weeks since I've posted here; is the world ending? Was I swallowed up by a giant sea squid or imprisoned for being way too brash? Better question: have you missed me and my weekly blabber gabber I send out to the Never-Neverlands of the cyber world?

My crazy, happy, beautiful brood.

Well, I missed you, and I want you to know I didn't abandon my post here. I've just been soaking up some rays at the Outer Banks, which was a much-needed respite from the daily grind. Change is always a good thing, particularly when the days are so stock-full of errands and appointments you forget when the week started and when it ended.

Don't think, though, I was there purely for fun and play. You see, I was in the trenches, my friends. I was getting down and dirty and sandy (and a little bit salty, I must say) on the very frontlines of a simmering battle between what should be and what is. I was a torch-bearing, ass-kickin' rebel leading the charge in the Bikini Revolution.

And, yes, yes, YES!, I donned my very first bikini in twelve years. Can I get a Whoop! Whoop!

Sadly, prior to my recent bikini phenomenon, I had only modeled a two-piece twice in my entire life. The first time really doesn't count as I was about three years old. The second time I was in college and on a very private beach with my younger brother, Mark, who I have to say was my champion that trip and made me feel like I could pull it off. I never thanked him for that, but looking back, I really appreciated his unwavering confidence in me because I certainly had not found mine yet.

Chillin' on the shore with my sexy man.

Fast forward roughly 12 years, and here I am, a 30-year-old mother of three with a size 8 body (still under toning construction, I might add) and the pouchy remnants of three c-sections and perhaps a few more dimpled parts than I'd had in college...and of course, my crowning glory, my boobs, which have endured three booby feeders, the third of which is still clinging on like a monkey high on ripe bananas. You do the math and figure how that equates to major, jaw-dropping droopage.

The point I'm making, though a little roughly, is I am not perfect and definitely not a poster girl for society's ideal bikini bod. Really, though, most women will never meet society's expectations of what we should look like, which is why it is so important for me to stand up for the average woman (Who is not a size 2, by the way! Didn't you ever notice the only sizes left on the racks are size 2 and extra small?)

Regardless of my bikini anxiety, I had committed to wearing a bikini this summer, and I was not backing out of my promise. The truth is I needed to overcome my fear of the two-piece in order to fully accept my body the way it is and to be comfortable in my own skin. And, I wanted to do more than run my mouth about how we as strong, independent women need to stand up to society and say "enough!" I needed to take some action. So what if I am only one woman and one bikini. Perhaps I influenced some other women on the beach last week to take the plunge, embrace their curves and flaunt some skin. I mean, come on, if I can do it, anyone can.

Look, I have four legs!
You know you love my meaty
drumsticks, right?

So, I packed in my suitcase two bikinis, and I added my leftover bikini from 12 years ago to my supply just for good measure. I packed no other swimwear other than a rash guard in case the kids wanted to ride on my back in the pool (Irish skin, man. I burn like a mother!). I gave myself no outs, no excuses and nowhere to run except the naked road. And, my husband had already put the brakes on that particular avenue. Such a prude, Rick. Such a prude.

I have to tell you, I was extremely self conscious the first day at the beach. No lie. I had a brief moment where I set foot on the sand in my new bikini, and I wanted to dig a hole and bury myself in it so deep no one could see the monstrosity underneath, and I planned to wait right there, snug in my little hole until Rick brought me a cover up. I swear I felt like every eyeball on the beach was trained on my not-so-perfect body, and every mouth attached to that eyeball was either laughing or cringing in a not-so-encouraging manner. I felt like the carnival freak show had come to town, and I was its opening act.

The money shot.
See...not the ideal, but damn it
was nice to feel free! 

Five seconds later...my little self-conscious girl moment had passed, and I no longer gave a shit. I raised my chin, walked out onto that beach and strutted my stuff in front of the entire Corolla population. Take THAT, society! And, the funny thing is, once I got passed those first few moments before I took the plunge into the land of bikini, I felt like a new woman...liberated and strong, confident and sexy, and I really just didn't care what anyone thought. I was comfortable; I was happy; I felt amazing; and in that moment of what the New York Times called the "come-to-Jesus" moment, I became the "good-attitude girl" and fell head over heels in love with my bikini.

For those of you snickering right now and thinking, good for you, Mary, but you won't catch me in a bikini this summer, here's the cold, hard truth.

My girl in her bitsy bikini.
Totally too big for her, but hey,
she's got time.

No one was looking at me. No one cared. I had entered the mecca of the bikini universe, and I was just one more semi-naked body in a sea of self-loving women.

Apparently, I am a little late to join ranks in the Bikini Revolution. It's been going on right under my nose, and I never sniffed it out. There were bikini babes of all shapes, sizes and ages running around the beach that week, and no one seemed to care what was hanging out or in some cases, not hanging out of their two piece. Grandmas, mommies, teens and even little girls rocked bikinis...on the beaches, at the pools, up and down the streets and even in the grocery store. It was like women's liberation had laid claim to the Outer Banks, and these women were going to do what they wanted to do whether or not they fit the ideal stereotype of the bikini bod.

Needless to say, I relished in it. I drank up the plethora of female confidence like a frosty margarita on a steaming hot day. It was refreshing. It was beautiful. It was heaven, and I took full advantage and cloud surfed this wave for the entire week and literally LIVED in my bikini.

So, there you have it. I followed through on my promise, and I overcame my fear of the dreaded bikini season. And, you know what, it wasn't so bad after all. I hope my little Emma appreciates what I did for her, and in the process, what I did for myself.

Rock on, ladies. The summer is just starting, and we have a looonnggg bikini season ahead of us. Saddle up, put on your big girl panties, and take the plunge into what may be uncharted waters for you...just make sure you've got that hot, sexy bikini on when you ride your first wave.
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Got bikini on the brain? Read more articles about this topic on my Fresh Press page.