When a mother looks a mess when she has a baby, she’s letting herself go.
When a mother looks put together, but her kids are a mess, she’s neglectful.
When a mother looks good, and her kids look good, she’s a hard-ass.
When a mother looks a mess when she has a baby, it’s because babies are a fuck load of work and she doesn’t have time or energy to give a shit what people think. I went to the store one day in my nightgown, not as a fashion statement, but because I forgot I hadn’t gotten dressed.
OR it means she’s depressed.
OR it means she’s going through a rough patch.
OR it means she just needed to get something so quickly looking good didn’t warrant giving on her precious fucks.
When a mother looks put together, but her kids are a mess, it’s because kids are messy and can’t stay clean for longer than 5 minutes. I will put my freshly bathed son in clean clothes, and within half an hour he looks like a vagabond.
OR it means that mom has somewhere really important to go, as an adult, for the first time in [time child has been alive], needed to run out to grab something and didn’t feel like sprucing up the spawn.
OR it means that said messy child wouldn’t let mom get him/her clean.
When a mother looks good, and her kids look good, that means Dad helped out in getting the kids ready. Novel concept, ‘eh?
There hasn’t been much sexy-time lately in the Average household. John has been sick and I’m getting there. I’m feeling less than attractive, between the coughing and the fevering and the still-fat-from-my-pregnancy-ing.
Why is it that being “fat” isn’t such an awful thing when you’re getting some on a regular basis, but it sucks fairly hard when you’re going through a dry spell? I may be committing a mortal sin by using that term, since “dry spell” is often used by the PUA community. A web search for “feeling unattractive during a dry spell” reveals post after post for PUAs looking to bang chicks under 30. I also came across a very random article about how Eva Green feels unattractive. Read More…
From time to time, when The Man and I don’t have the kids and can savor a few hours of unadulterated alone time, we go to sex stores. We go there, of course, because there are never any fucking children in sex stores.
On one of our sex shop adventures, we found textured cock sleeves – or what we affectionately called “the nobbies.” We discussed their potential on and off for a few months. The Man was not too pleased with the idea of covering his manhood with a piece of bumpy silicone. I wasn’t entirely certain how it would feel on the interior. We all but wrote off the idea until our next sex shop excursion.