Monthly Archives: March 2013

Happy Easter!

Hope the Easter Bunny came at visited your house!
Andee     xoxo

Rant | Yummy Mummy … Indeed

On Saturday, one of my regular reads and online connections, Sex In Words, wrote a blog to direct readers’ attention to a column on HuffPost Canada by Canadian sexual health expert and relationship author, Dr. Trina Read. The piece was contemplating the reality of why women need to shed their “yumminess” and get back to focusing on sexual satisfaction.

A well-written article with some great perspective – but it also falls right into the same damn trap as the idea of why some young (and not-so-young) women today try to achieve the Yummy Mummy status: because they let other people define who they are.

And as such, most of it just pissed me off. It’s the same reason why, back on March 22, I tweeted: “Be impossible to define; for definitions are simply labels which other people want to place on us in order to form their own opinions.”

Don’t get me wrong; I really enjoy Dr. Read’s columns and her own website, But that doesn’t mean I always have to agree to what she puts out there.

Dr. Read’s column takes us through the past 60+ years of feminism – beginning with the “sex is a chore” stereotpye of the 1950s, to the free-wheeling-before-AIDS ’80s, and then to what she figures must be the too-weary-to-bother days of last week. Now, to be fair, she does say that a lot of the prevailing attitudes of the day were “assumed.” But, unfortunately, so is her perspective on this one.

She comments with what I hope is a rhetorical question: “How’s a gal supposed to keep up?” and “Yes, women can and do orgasm, but they find little satisfaction in sex because they are not getting or giving it the time it needs to be enjoyable.”

Keep up with what? The new stereotype that the media and pop culture want to force on us? It’s no different than the expectation in the 1950s that women were expected to wear pearls, make Apple Brown Betty and hang the white linens on the clothesline. Seriously, where do you think that stereotype came from? Do you really believe Barbara Billingsley lived a life parallel to June Cleaver?

I’m sorry, but any modern woman who looks at the cover shots on grocery store gossip magazines and yearns to be that celebrity model has way bigger issues than her orgasms. And as harsh as that statement might be, the truth behind it is that we, as a society overall, need to give up on these delusions of living a Hollywood lifestyle. That character flaw in each of us (and yes, to a degree, it is in each of us) is one reason why our personal debt load is a record highs, why our children have a “you’re special” complex and why the generation entering the workforce today expects the world to bow at their feet – and the paycheque to have six digits before the decimal.

Even actresses and models themselves are coming out of the “photoshop” closet to educate the minions that what they see on these covers is not a true representation.

But sadly, we popularize the dim-witted and pursue the attention of fame, even if it is for no other contributing value to society than another “leaked” sex tape. How is it that the daughter of a hotel chain owner can transform her party-girl lifestyle into something that becomes TMZ fodder? Or why should TMZ even exist? Because we give them the power to. As a society, we get sucked into idolizing these shenanigans as opposed to taking pity on their pathetic attempt at adding value to our world with their spoiled-rotten existence.

Quite frankly, I wouldn’t want to hold these “new, sexy, chic and always-on-top-of-her-game celebrity mom” types as role models. Children to them are nothing more than accessories and headline fodder. Don’t have a movie out? Let’s adopt our 19th new family member from Guam and parade them around with the rest of our United Nations offspring. Most of the are destined to be line items in the divorce proceedings or guest stars on Celebrity Rehab.

Perhaps part of the problem with young women and sex today is that for everything else in their life, someone else has been expected to jump up and give it to them; just like these sex-tape socialites. They don’t see why they are expected to actually “earn” or “achieve” something if it isn’t attached to a reality show contract.

And I hazard to say, it’s probably the same with their orgasms. “Cum? Like, seriously … ugh … that is, like, too much effort, you know. I might get, like, sweaty when I’m not even wearing my Lululemons. I barely, like, sweat for my gay trainer Franz, never mind my husband. Why don’t you, like, do it and then just text me … K!”

This young generation won’t be the inventors of tomorrow because they’re too busy waiting for someone to drop it in their lap … unless it is another social media platform or iPhone app that requires their generation to shut out human contact even more. Their genius isn’t around discovery and failure, it’s around laziness and  shortcuts to ego-fulfilling fame.

If a “Yummy Mummy” has dark circles under her eyes from trying to balance her life, it has little to do with her ambition to be the perfect supermodel wife, mother and talented career woman. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that the little princess married a man who expected the world to revolve around his lazy ass and over-priced Beemer. “Help with the kids? Fuck that, the guys are watching MMA tonight.”

My sexuality is defined by me. Now granted, I break a whole bunch of socially-accepted rules to live by that definition, but it is still mine and mine alone. Same with my orgasms. I am one of those tired, bags-under-the-eyes mothers and career women – but I can tell you this much: I LOVE SEX … I CAN’T GET ENOUGH SEX. And just to make you jealous … I get LOTS OF IT!

But I take responsibility for that on my own. My husband and I juggle a busy household better than the acrobats in the New Shanghai Circus (whom, by the way, are just friggin’ awesome) juggle their best china plates. We’re beyond tired most days – but we also subscribe to an extremely unique philosophy in these modern times: marriage requires effort. And neither of us are hung up on a celebrity lifestyle that is way beyond our means. We have no gender roles in our house … we have things that need to get done and places for people to be. If your ego is too fragile to handle making dinner or loading the dishwasher, move home and let Mommy slap that meal down in front of your selfish face.

Flaws – not perfection – are what make us individuals. The pursuit of trying to be someone we are not is a wasteful and fruitless exercise; with even more dire results between the sheets. If you want to be a Yummy Mummy, be one that has character flaws; be one that is attractive because she is a confident, sexual, flirtatious, less-than-perfect woman.

Those flaws are what make you interesting … they are what make you “yummy” to more men than you could ever imagine. (And, as an aside, where I come from “yummy mummy” is a definition applied to those women who – in the men’s eyes – are not quite at the MILF status but are still deemed worthy of their adolescent leering and snide sexual comments.)

If you try too hard to be one of those made-from-their-own-marketing pop culture sluts, the men in your life won’t give a shit about your orgasm as they notch another “score” on their fragile male ego.

Oh, I just want to point out that I almost made my point without criticizing the good doctor for using Angelina Jolie as a reference in her column. I have no idea why any woman, young or old, would want to idolize a husband-stealing, cold, crazy bitch like her. Even in the swamp of pop culture icons, there are better, more attractive Hollywood scarecrows to hold up as examples.

Oops … typing in my outside voice again.

Andee     xoxo

TMI Tuesday | Memorable Moments

I guess a short week calls for a short TMI Tuesday; which is alright with me given how busy my life has been of late. Needless to say, I’m looking forward to having an extra long weekend as Easter arrives.

So, this week we step into some great memories as I get back between the sheets to share:

What are your five (5) most memorable/amazing sexual moments?

I can’t say that these are ranked in order of importance … more like as they popped into my head. There are surely a lot more to share, but these work for today:

1. The time when my husband tortured my imagination and made me confess to my desires for a threesome. It wasn’t so much about the topic at hand – although it was the first time while getting laid that I had openly admitted to such thoughts about a very specific person. The sex was hot, hot, hot because of how much freedom it brought to my conscience.
2. The time when my coworker joined me in a hotel room on his lunch break for a sexual rendezvous – while my husband quietly sat in the corner of the room and watched the whole moment unfold. A result of the first point in the blog, but good lord it was so fucking hot knowing I was free to enjoy the moment without guilt – and with a huge kinky edge. I came all over his face in a mind-blowing orgasm. Extremely memorable, to say the least.
3. The first time I explored my bisexual curiosities with another woman. It was long in the making and worth the wait. The only downside is that the occasion to continue that exploration of my sexuality is limited.
4. My first orgasm after the birth of my second child. I can only say how liberating and physically relieving it was to accomplish that after having your ying-yang stitched back together a second time.
5. The first time my husband (boyfriend at the time) brought me to orgasm with his tongue. My first boyfriend led me to believe that oral sex on a woman was one of the most disgusting acts a man had to do in a relationship. I was young, naive and unfortunately believed his nonsense. On my second date with the man who was to become my husband, he showed me exactly what a man can do to a woman with his tongue, and I’ve never looked back!

BONUS: What is one quality you appreciate in a lover?
That is a tough one because there are many different attributes that I look for, and trying to narrow it down to just one item is a challenge. But, hard pressed to offer up just one, I would say “consideration.”

Andee     xoxo

When is Young Too Young?

Yesterday, there was an article published online asking how young is too young for girls to wear “sexy” lingerie. The piece focused mainly on the new line of underwear for the pre-teen/tween demographic sold by Victoria’s Secret. Typically, the news media were all over the idea of “lacy lingerie for little girls” and one brave “mommy blogger” stood up against them.

It’s an interesting subject – given how virtually no one with the exception of a mother should ever see a young girl in her underwear. I’ll also grant an exception to a licensed physician, but I think you know my point.
One problem is how society has sexualized this age group. And, without a doubt, some parents have seemingly surrendered good sense along the way (Honey Boo Boo / Toddlers in Tiaras). But for them, there is little hope that we will ever convince them to see the ridiculousness of their actions.
On the larger scale, society has forgotten how to see little girls as just that, little girls. The masses have been sucked in by the sheer over-whelming power of marketing, merchandising and materialism.
In a way, the lingerie company has simply followed the trend. As they have evolved over the past decade from a primarily “sexy” company to one that offers something for a more mainstream audience, they have identified and pursued new opportunities to make money. That’s business, that’s how it’s done.
Every little girl wants to feel more grown up; to feel like a princess. The issue I see with the question at hand is that the rest of us want to take that and turn it into some perverse sexual connotation. Self-esteem at that age is fragile enough; it always has been, the Internet and explosion of media in our lives has only made it worse. Now every 9-year old has to carefully plot her every move, for fear of being alienated by her peer group.
When I was that young, underwear tended to be serviceable and practical. As my grandmother might say, “dainty.” It wasn’t until I was in my teens that anything remotely sexy came into my intimate wardrobe – but I attribute that to the environment in which I grew up, as opposed to access to lacy, frilly things.
Frankly, as an adult and a lover of fine lingerie, I think it’s a great idea that younger women are introduced to idea of what can be feminine and empowering. It’s only sexual when it’s used in that context. In fact, most days, unless I choose to let anyone in on the secret no one knows what I have on under my clothes.
And frankly, that’s the way it should be for a 9-year, too. It’s time the media (and the Internet) found something more intriguing than a young girl’s laundry.
As an aside to this, what I personally find equally amusing is that the “Pink” line of lingerie from VS – obviously targeted for the college set – is more about “cute” and “collegiate.” Underpants with pop culture patterns, slogans and mostly made of good old-fashioned cotton, being marketed to an age group where the female body is probably at its most perfect physical form.
Is 9 too young for “sexy” underwear? It’s only sexy if the media wants to stick its nose in the bedrooms of pre-teen girls across the continent. Personally, I find that more creepy.
Andee     xoxo 

When Twists Turn To Fantasies

I’ve been really terrible at writing my blog lately. It frustrates me, but at the same time I try to tell myself that what is more important is having something sincere and relevant to say and share with you, rather than whiffing through an update that is only there to keep the update numbers moving each month.

Over the past several weeks, a lot of my creative energy – and sexual imagination – has gone into writing erotica for a bit of a literary change. It’s a genre that I read an awful lot of, but don’t always take the time to produce. I had made a promise to myself – some call them New Year’s resolutions – that I would make a more concerted effort this year to put my fantasies into words, and so I have been living up to that.
Writing erotica has come easier lately than trying to be witty and creative here. Thank goodness most weeks the TMI Tuesday theme has me headed in an appropriate direction, otherwise I’d be a complete bust for blogging so far in 2013.
Perhaps the biggest motivator for me in directing my energy in that direction is the opportunity for me to express the even more illustrative aspect of my personal fantasies. Rather than blogging from the heart and soul, my erotica is an outlet for the deep, sometimes dark, recesses of my sexual imagination. It allows me to fictionalize a little, while still stroking the perverse shreds of the truth … because every story has some truth to it.
And while I know good “web management” suggests never redirecting your readers off your website, I also want to share these naughty – and hopefully hot – fantasies with you. So, if erotica is your thing, please feel free to slip over to Lush and let your mind wander through the things that keep me hot and bothered.
Andee     xoxo
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