The Rising Action (or Lack Thereof).

Now that the cat's outta the bag, and I've exposed myself here...

I'll get right to it.  I'll bring it, so to speak, and talk openly about SEX post-marriage, post-baby.  From my very own viewpoint, no less.

                                                                                                             jabberpics

So, here it is... the rising action.  Although, if I'm being frank, there's a whole lotta rising and very little action to speak thereof.

Ya catch my drift?

That's right.  I don't want to have sex!  In fact...

My libido has flatlined, and it has nothing to do with performance or love-n-desire or just about anything you might imagine?!

Really, it's all psychological.  In my mind, I've made sex "dirty," and I don't know if it's long-stemming from my childhood (because I didn't see outward showings of my parents' love for one another), or if it's got to do with all my "silly" self-loathing, my lack of self-worth?

Basically, I don't feel attractive or "sexy," and my confidence is shot. But, my husband doesn't mind if I'm soft 'round the middle!

So, I kindly ask:

• WHY all the sex hang-ups?

Go figure, my only conclusion is FEAR.

Honestly, I'm afraid to let the control go.  I'm terrified of living up to the now-you're-married-so-you-don't-have-sex cliché.  I'm even more scared of growing old and growing unattractive in my husband's eye.

But it's IRONIC, because...

To be continued...

Blah, Blah, (Birthday) Blog!

Readers out there, it's time I celebrate the inevitable, and come to happy terms with my last twenty.  It's my birthday tomorrow! 

So, here's toasting to bittersweet 29... CIN CIN!

More like, keep my (old) chin up.  Blah, blah, (birthday) blog...

There's positive in the situation though.  For one, I get to enjoy a few pleasurable (much-needed) birthday treatments like: 

A lavish, hour-long mani/pedi at my local nail spa, and...

A hair-y great visit to Strawberry Blonde Salon!

(Where we will attempt to cover my 2900 grays... SHHH!) 

Moving on, I'll also love (and graciously) accept sweet presents...

From this handsome fella, and...

This one, too! 

(I ♥ you!)

Meanwhile, I'll smile and be totally thankful I'm alive, healthy, and sharing this life with my men!  29 doesn't sound so bad now...

Thanks for commiserating with me!  I needed the support ~

Log, Jog, and Blog. v2



As I promised, here's my healthy-living, weight-loss update:

So, after a week and some of moderate dieting and increased exercise, I've lost two pounds.  I haven't been stringent, either.

Week Two:

Weight - 146 lbs.

(See where I started here.)

In fact, what I've done thus far is simple, and it doesn't center 'round restriction or deprivation.  Basically, I've been particular about eating regularly, at specific times.  I've also avoided eating late at night.

More often than not, I miss meals, graze, or make poor food-choices because I'm starving.  I knew going into this LOG, JOG, and BLOG series, these bad habits would have to change.  So, that's what I'm focusing on now... correcting long-standing meal mistakes.

Does that make sense?

I've also made other modifications.  Slight ones, at that. 

For the most part, I already eat unprocessed, natural foods.  And I love fruits and vegetables, but I don't care too much for water. 

So, I'm having to make liquid changes.  For instance:

• More water (64 - 80 ounces per day),
• Less red wine (no more nightly glasses), and
• Decreased diet cokes (six is just too many).  

With this all being said, I haven't been perfect these last few days.  I don't intend to, either.  I want to still live, laugh, and be human.  I just want to adopt a more healthy lifestyle, and moderation is key.  I have exercise thoughts to share, but I'll wait 'til next time.

 

Log, Jog, and Blog. v1

No more mommy excuses.  The day has finally arrived, and I'm sayin' goodbye to the last ten pounds.  Join me if you like...

It's my plan to do the following:

1. LOG my food consumption on a daily base,
2. JOG (and walk) in intervals at a steady pace, and
3. BLOG all about it on my weight-loss race.

I intend to make positive lifestyle changes, and I'm not going to be unrealistic, or obsessive (like ghosts of diets past).

And each week, I'll provide an update tracking my progress. 

Phew!  Here goes nothing...

Week One:

Weight - 148 lbs.
BMI - 23.2%  (click here to calculate yours)

I'm doing this because, I want to feel strong and proud and tired at night.  I want to own it on the beach, and more important, I want to live to see my great-grandchildren play.  So, I gotta be proactive!

Here's to getting the pre-baby body back in 12 weeks...

 

 

Coming Clean.

Like most women out there, I love beauty products!

And like most ladies, I've been on the hunt for the perfect ones since I was a young consumer. 

(I've tried 'em all!  Trust me.)

With warmer weather approaching though, I'd love to share my favorites.  My feel good, look great essentials...

Today, I'm going to focus on what I started last night - SKIN CARE.

If you will recall, I recommended Cetaphil Gentle Cleansing Bar as my #1 TOP facial product.  Now, an explanation as to why...

When I was around six months pregnant, I broke out substantially.  Concentrated mainly in the area of my temples and hairline, I was a bumpy mess.  That compounded with my changing size... phew!

Before I go any further, I must come clean... I'm vain.  I can't say from where it came (my vanity issues)?  Society, perhaps?  Maybe my mother?  I was picked on a lot as a kid for being different.  Whatever the cause, I've been very aware of my appearance, and like I mentioned (here and here), I've rarely been satisfied with myself. 

All whinging aside, motherhood has made me a better person.  As a whole, I'm less consumed with my outward self, and more concerned with finding inner peace, contentment, and answers.

That's all beside the point though.  Back to SKIN...

During this blemish nightmare, it was recommended I try Cetaphil
(by a man, no less) as a hopeful remedy to my aggravating zits.  He also advised me to stop, for the time being, using multiple products, and ones that contained salicylic acid. 

At the point of his suggestion, I was ready to try anything!  So, I did just as he said, and guess what?

In little over two weeks, my skin was clear and looked amazing!  Hence the reason I endorse Cetaphil as my facial soap of choice.

As something of a #1 TOP skin behavior recommendation, I can't stress the importance of limited sun exposure, and consistent sunscreen use. 

Before I start preaching the merits of pale (or spray-tanned) skin however, you must know, I haven't always adhered to this principle. 

In reality, I spent my entire childhood and college-years, basking in the sun without sunscreen.  I had acceptably dark skin, and I didn't burn.  No big deal, I thought.  If it wasn't broken, why fix it?

Somewhere in my mid-twenties though, I noticed a persistent line in the middle of my forehead.  It bothered me!  Not to mention, my skin was freckling and looked dull.  So, I acknowledged things in the sun had to change. 

Basically, I started using sunscreen every time I went to the beach, and more important, I applied it throughout the course of my stay.  I also purchased a daily moisturizer with an SPF 30.

Since this behavioral change, my skin in total looks better.  In fact, the line also seems to have diminished, or has ceased in spreading. 

With this all being said, I am NOT a dermatologist.  I only know, and recommend, what has worked personally for me.  Good luck finding what works best for you, and I hope I've been of help. 

Should you have any questions, feel free to message me at any time.  Now, here's to graceful aging and clear skin (fingers-crossed)...

A product I love for nostalgic reasons:

Noxzema Deep Cleansing Cream

Simply, I love the smell (and tingle)!  It reminds me of my youth.

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When It's All You've Ever Wanted.

As something of a follow-up to this morning's indulgent post...

I know how difficult it is to be a good wife and mother.  Especially, when it's all you've ever wanted.  But what I'm learning, is that I need to cut myself a little slack and breathe.  It's all okay, and I'm actually a better everything when I'm vulnerable and feeling.  DING DING!

So, here's where the barking stops.

My child is healthy.  My husband is supportive and loving.  I am fortunate on so many levels, for so many things...

So strangely, what I mean to say, is that I respect my mother even more for her incapability.  Yes, parts of me want to blame her for my feelings of ineptitude, for my insecurities, but it isn't her fault.  She just didn't have the coping skills to be for everyone else.

And what I need to learn, is that I'm not her.  My problems aren't hers, and vice versa.  I make a conscious decision each day to be either happy or not, and control is a cop out.

Myself, on the other hand, I will not fail at communicating, loving, or most important, knowing myself through and through. 

THREE CHEERS for vulnerability!  Now, let the real fun start.

What are your emotional setbacks?  I'd love to know...



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The Personification of Control.

I'm going to cut to the emotional chase. I've been in something of a funk recently, and I need to forge my way out...

Plain and simple, I need to get in shape!

I feel overwhelmed though. 

I realize this post has the makings of an "are you or someone you know suffering from depression" commercial, but somewhere along the line, I've stepped out of my body, and I can't seem to get back in.  It's embarrassing to admit, too.

I realize I'm not the first mother or wife or dreamer to struggle.  I know I need to lose ten pounds, but it's more than just that.  It's a serious bully named control I battle most with, because...

When it's quiet, I don't feel adequate.

I never have, either.

So, what I'm saying, is that the weight isn't the real issue at hand.  It's control and his manipulative sidekick, self-esteem.

In my head, because I'm not perfect, or 135 pounds, I don't deserve love.  And I ask, where did this warped mindset come from? 

Often in my life, I've been criticized for not being open, for being afraid of vulnerability.  Out of circumstance, I argue I was conditioned to be strong, to save face, to control my feelings.

If you're a new follower, you must know, my mother left when I was a young teenager.  At the time, my sister was six, and my brother, ten months.  Her breakdown, and breakaway, broke our hearts, and I've always been afraid.  So, I turned to control.

Afraid of hurt, that is.  Feeling it, and more important, causing it.

Also, afraid of just plain ol' not being good enough.

Point of all this rambling though, I'm struggling to accept an ally named unconditional. 

Love, that is.

I'm wary of believing in him, unconditional, and I'm suspect to think he'll leave.  So, I struggle.  I control, too.

But lately, I can't seem to control anything?!  And I'm confused?

My weight, no less.  Blah... blah... blah...

It's just high time I get to the source of my emotional setbacks.  Now that I've personified control, I need to banish bad thoughts and dispel negative energy.  Basically, I need to learn to love myself, and I think it will all be better after a long walk with baby.



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Did Cleopatra Self-Loathe?

Why do we, as women, beat ourselves up and self-loathe?  It's ridiculous!

Just to let you all know, I am NOT above being insecure.

I have loads of insecurities, and frankly, I'm tired of thinking about them.  I want to let them go, once and finally for all! 

A day in the life of...

• I wake up, and step on a scale. 
• I see a number I can't seem to control, and I hate myself! 
• I then add three pounds to the shameful digit, because I know my scale is off, and I feel strangely embarrassed.
• From that point, I make quiet, determined vows to partake in only wholesome, corrective food choices, and I pledge, ever-so-secretly, to do squats all day long!

(In my dysmorphic mind, I seem to forget that my child's thriving, that my partner's loving, or that I'm actually happy, and the glass of wine that now contributes to my morning bulge, tasted so nice the night before!)

Tell me please, why do I fret over a blasted eight pounds? 

I have loads of gorgeous girlfriends that I talk with, and they're equally discouraged by pretend imperfections that don't matter, that aren't even apparent!

My question, did Cleopatra self-loathe, or is obsessing over one's appearance an altogether new, female phenomenon?  Have women through all ages felt dissatisfied with themselves?

My self-hatred in particular, became obvious to me a few weeks ago, while visiting my partner's family in Maryland. 

I saw a photo of myself taken when I was twenty-four.  It was a time in which I vividly remember disliking every last inch of my physical self!  I hated my curly hair.  I thought my skin was bad.  I felt fat!  The list goes on...

Really though, I was beautiful!  That might sound slightly egotistical, but I looked at the picture, and I didn't recognize myself?! 

I wish I would have enjoyed it!  I wish, looking back, I wouldn't have been so concerned with changing myself!

I really want to start LOVING, to stop HATING, and I hope to encourage other women to do the same.