Handbag Ho?

Not only do I love a nice handbag, I actually get a little aroused sometimes while handling the buttery soft leather of a particularly nice one. I spotted a gorgeous bag while shopping recently that I cannot stop thinking about. The price tag does not allow for a casual, everyday purchase of this item; it must be given as a gift. Realizing that I have a birthday approaching, I decided that this would be a great gift for the hubster to present to me. Now, while this man is an overall awesome guy, he does have some difficulty in the gift-giving department. Example: for Mother's Day this year, he sent me flowers - via delivery, which is both weird (we live together) and somewhat disturbing (this is also the gift he gave his mother). He had ordered both sets of flowers during the same transaction. I know he meant well, but that's just wrong. So, as you can see, some gift-buying guidance was in order.
This guy does not respond to subtle hints. "My sister just got a Nook for her birthday; what a great gift!" did not result in an e-reader wrapped and labeled for me under the Christmas tree a few weeks later. So... I went for obvious. After an especially passionate night of intimacy, I printed a page from the website featuring my desired bag and placed it on his pillow. Much to my delight (but not really surprise), I am now the proud owner of this bag. Good sex for an expensive gift? Prostitution? I think not. I prefer to think of it as a "win-win".

Still "Bang"able?

At what point will men stop looking? At me, that is. I will admit that the attention from the menfolk is not what it used to be. I was never the hottest girl in the room, but I was at a decent number looks-wise, enough that I received an adequate amount of appreciative glances in a variety of situations to keep my self esteem riding high. Driving around town, I have had my share of male drivers putting forth the effort to give me a second glance. I was never offended by "catcalls" I received walking by a construction site or whistles while out for a run. I do not understood why women are offended by this attention; they are compliments, ladies. One day they will cease to exist for you, and I bet you will miss them.
So, imagine my glee, when stepping out of the hair salon yesterday after getting bangs cut in to my 'do for the first time in years, a man (early 30s, fairly attractive) gave me a "once over" and smiled approvingly. I think it was the bangs- cutesy, trendy, age-reducing. I smiled back, of course, thrilled with this increasingly-rare-occurring type of attention. I did not, however, want to ruin the moment (for me or for my admirer) by hopping in to my loser cruiser to take off, so I walked an extra hundred feet, circumlocuting the parking lot (pretending to head for my non-existent single-girl fun ride) until he had safely driven away. I finally headed for my sweet ride, admiring my man-attracting fringe in my reflection of the window as I unlocked the door, knowing this encounter would give me a little extra spring in my step for a few days. It doesn't take much.

B- for Effort

So, it was a "sort of" cleanse. I did cut back on the ridiculous intake. I did not go crazy, but a little effort paid off; the stretchy yoga pants have been put away, only to be worn for actual yoga vs. accommodating a bloated belly.
What I did right: reduced alcohol intake, reduced late-night snacking, picked up the running mileage, and sweated through a couple of hot yoga sessions. What I did wrong: continued a bit of mindless snacking and consumed a few drinks. The snacking was stress-related, and the boozing was in-law-related.
Though I dropped a few pounds, I am still feeling a bit on the puffy side. I am itching to buy some spring clothes, and it is no fun shopping for cute, fresh wardrobe if it is for my bigger self.
My plan:  increase Clean principles: replacing solid food meals with liquids (i.e. juices, smoothies, soups) and decrease stress-munching. I also need to amp up my strength training, as sleeveless tops are sexy, but not if one's arms resemble loaves of lumpy bread dough. I am allowing social drinkies because, well, let's not get crazy.
On that note, I am off to hot yoga, in which I sweat off two pounds in 45 minutes. I know, it's only "water weight", but oh-so-satisfying nonetheless.

Spring Cleansing

I have not posted in awhile. Apparently, I have been too busy stuffing my face with sh**ty food and consuming alcohol like prohibition is right around the corner. My snuggest-fitting jeans, which had been hugging my booty in a comfortable and attractive manner, nearly squeezed the life out of me when I attempted to wear them yesterday. An hour into the day, I had to replace them with a carb-bloat-friendly pair, so that I could bend over without causing internal injury. My excuse:  a completely insane month that included: two weekends away, a St. Patty's day party (with a grease-filled recovery day), 5 days with out-of-town visitors who have a fondness for margaritas and snack foods, extra work stress (requiring apres-work scotch), and kids home all day for spring break (requiring all-day scotch).
My plan: detox and cleanse. I experienced similar fatness after the holiday season and embarked on a 3-day cleanse that was a bit too strict. No coffee, no solids foods. I was so cranky I was ready to punch someone, anyone in the face. I did, however, lose six pounds, five of which stayed away until above-described month of binging and drinking (and binge-drinking). A friend recommended Clean (Alejandro Junger), which is a little kinder- i.e. allows some solid foods (including meat!). Sadly, this Mr. Junger does not approve of coffee or booze. I do not plan to follow it to the letter, as I do not like strict rules, nor am I safe to drive on public roads without coffee in my system. I may be able to (mostly) refrain from alcohol, as there are no social events or planned stressful situations on the horizon.
Updates forthcoming. Hopefully, they will include reports of my tolerating said jeans for at least the better part of a day...

About That Minivan

Never ever in my life did I imagine myself behind the wheel of a minivan. I vowed not to sacrifice my own identity for the sake of my kids by driving a "loser cruiser".  To me, driving a minivan was like giving up, completely letting myself go- I might as well wear mom jeans with sensible sneakers and cease all efforts at attractiveness.

I was chock full of these self-involved opinions until baby #3. Still refusing the van, we went for the large SUV to accommodate our growing posse. Not only did I have a great deal of difficulty maneuvering this land yacht, it did not even work well with three kids in car seats. I was also tired of it's gas-guzzling habits and the dirty looks I received from the self-righteous drivers of smaller gas-sipping vehicles. After a year, I relented. We bought a base-model (I refused to celebrate this purchase by getting something fancy), reliable (read: Toyota) minivan. Yes, it has made life easier. No, I do not “love” it like many of my friends have declared. In fact, I still feel like a loser driving it. Alas, my fears re: letting myself go did not come to fruition. I still wouldn’t wear mom jeans if my life depended on it.

I Earned This

After a weekend away with girlfriends that included total indulgence of tasty food, delicious (and multiple) drinks, and overall ridiculous fun, one would expect that I would tackle the loads of laundry and sink-full of dishes present in my house today. After all, my children are at school, I am off of work, and I have had a little break from the drudgery of housework for the past few days. Not so much. Instead, I have completed the following activities in the past 5 hours:
1) drank coffee while watching most of the Today show
2) took a long, hot shower
3) took an Advil and 1/2 of a Percocet (sore muscles from running a half marathon over weekend- the "cover" event that prevents any spouses from having an issue with the girls' getaway)
4) read a good portion of a book
5) made an appt for a 3:00 massage today with Dean at my favorite spa
Why do I not feel guilty? I effing earned this. I once had a newborn, a three year-old, and  five-year old at home with me ALL day long. My spouse works 60-hour weeks, and most of the child and household responsibilities are mine. We have no family in town, and  I have always worked part-time, dealing with the stress of juggling preschool and child-care with my work hours. I am not complaining, as I realize there are many mothers with much greater hardships with which they deal on a daily basis, and said circumstances are results of my own choices. I guess I just needed to give myself permission for this complete "day off". I finally have all three children in school, a day off of work, and a body too sore for a workout. Though this will not become a habit (children with no food or clean clothes because their mom is relaxing all day may raise red flags for CPS), I am loving every minute of it. I know I will be loving it later today when Dean rubs away my aches and pains with his strong oil-coated hands.

Valentine Candy

Last year I dropped the ball. The hubster and I decided that we were not exchanging Valentine's gifts, with the expectation being that we would exchange cards and he would likely present me with flowers. I held up my end of the bargain while hubs outdid himself. Not only did he supply said flowers, he also purchased a lovely bra and panty set (though my friend, Sarah,  informed me that this is really a gift "for him") and planned a date night, complete with hiring a babysitter. I felt a little inadequate, but I felt better after I recalled my mom's words of wisdom about V-day, that it is "really more of a day for the woman to receive gifts".
I saw my chance to surprise and (hopefully) delight my man this year when I spotted a deal for a "boudoir photo session". I have to admit, as a bit of an exhibitionist, I was looking forward more to the actual photo session (posing in sexy lingerie in compromising positions) than to the photos, themselves. I purchased a few "outfits" to bring to the session, paid extra for the stylist to give me street-walker make-up and big hair, and my session was underway. My photographer was experienced in making ladies who are not VS models look their best in their skivvies. Coupling flattering poses with "photo enhancement" (yay!), I have a few good prints. I am not sure where we are going to put these photos (hanging them in the entryway is not an option) and what happens when I eventually pass away ("is that Grandma in the bustier and thong?"), but I can't wait to present them to my Valentine tonight. I think he'll likey.