This is probably quite taboo to write about, my libido, or lack there of, and post it on the internet for all to see, especially because: a) Tom suggested it, b) he was the one just saying to me the other day that once I put “it” out there, (the “it” being my words) it’s there FOREVER, for all to see, AND someday for our children to read.  YIKES! And c) Our sex life, what’s left of it, is Private.

But, I’m going to go forward with it anyway.  Why?  Because, I think it is a very relevant topic; women my age are doing lots of multitasking and have lots of hormones, and sometimes we want sex, and sometimes we want you to get the fuck off of us.  Also, it’s what is currently happening in my life and that’s what I blog about, duh.  Lastly, it’s good fodder. (And Tom, Jeff, Sheryl, Jen Bros and now Warner & Heather & Riggs, I know you won’t be offended. Thanks for tuning in.)

So here goes….Poor, poor, poor, poor Tom.  Not ONLY because he hasn’t been getting any.  Also, because you can’t predict, not even Nostradomus, which end is up with me and my moods!  Holy shit it’s craziness.  For the past few weeks my libido has taken a coffee break, gone on vacation, gotten arrested, burned in a bonfire, gotten pneumonia, has been stolen and put in Winona Ryder’s purse?  Something, I don’t know what the hell it was.  I haven’t felt this way since I was pregnant, AND our youngest will be FIVE on Friday.

So in the past six years, I have never felt so disconnected from my body, and wanted to stay in overalls 24/7 more than ever before.  If I ever wanted to cohabitate with my Husband like roommates, like buddies, like brother and sister, this was it.  Gross.  “What the hell is wrong with me?”  I would think to myself?  “It’s not you, it’s me.”  It’s not that I wasn’t attracted to Tom.  On the contrary, I was loving on Tom very much.  Just in my own head and heart. 

My body just didn’t have one sexy twinge in it.  Not one.  Crickets.  Not a candle, or a rose, or a chocolate, or a bubble bath would do a damn thing.  I couldn’t get it up to save my life.  He could cook, clean, iron, shop, vacuum, and all my body would do was “Eh.”

“Okay, don’t panic.”  I would tell myself.  You haven’t exercised in a while.  You are the color of toothpaste.  You could put on some makeup ya know.  You’re kinda lookin’ like a dish rag lately, how do you think you’re going to feel sexy?  “Ah good point.”

Yes, these are the conversations in my head.  So as I look back on my PMS week and period week, I decide to pull myself up by my big Polish booties and get my ass moving.  Step one: exercise. EVERYDAY.  Step two: change diet.  EVERYDAY.  Step three:  Read about other people having sex.  EVERYDAY.

And what do you know?  Voila!  I am a changed woman!  I want to be on him.  He’s still the hottie he was two weeks ago.  A week ago.  Yesterday.  But today, I am different.  Vroom vroom.  No doubt the exercise and diet are clutch.  To boot, my cycle is over, and I am most always a bit horny after that.  When I ovulate, I am like Queen Devil Bitch Harpy Venom Slaying Monster.  It’s as if Mother Nature knows, “Now Thomas, you get that healthy Irish Catholic Speed Sperm away from that Polack’s ovaries you hear me!  If you get her pregnant again it will create Armageddon.  You think she’s nasty now, you remember when she was with child?  Run! Run Messiah, Run.”  And so it goes, it’s a win/win right now.  Actually, a win/win/win.  Tommy gets some good lovin, me too.  I feel sooooo much better.  Me again.  And with any luck I may fit back in a pair of jeans.  Wish me luck.