One week ago, I was driving my eldest to gymnastics when my youngest (7yo) made a bold declaration from the back seat: “I’m not going to play with Shane anymore cuz he told me he doesn’t believe in God.”
*insert noise of car screeching to a halt*
Life lesson time, youngsters.
My post about mental illness was Freshly Pressed. Me. Freshly Pressed. That’s INSANEAMAZINGCRAZYBEAUTIFUL. I’m very proud of that post, not only because it spread awareness about mental illness from a unique perspective, but I met (and hopefully helped in some way) so many incredible people who either suffer with mental illness themselves, or have a family member or friend who does. It opened a dialogue I didn’t know I needed.
The Bloggess commented on my post about G-Spot shots. That’s right. I talked vaginas…and THE MUTHERF#$@ING BLOGGESS CAME TO MAH PARTY. I should change my tagline to “Jenny Lawson Was Here” because that’s all you need to know anymore.
We are having so much fun over on the SisterWives Speak blog today! We’ve compiled a list of weird and random facts about each of us and now you get to play a matching game. I didn’t even know some of these, so I’m not going to claim it’ll be easy for you, but I guarantee it’ll make you laugh.
Make a guess…or five. I DOUBLE-DOG-DARE YOU!
What irks you most? Is it other drivers? Or the inhuman volume your husband chews food? Head over to the Sisterwives Speak blog and see what some of your favorite peeps had to say on the subject, and feel free to tell us your pet peeves in comments!
Here on The Sisterwives we cover some pretty heavy stuff. We appreciate all of our readers and are so very grateful to the brave and beautiful writers that submit pieces that they pull from the deepest, and sometimes darkest, parts of their souls. We thought that maybe today we would lighten things up a bit with a little help from some friends.
Don’t we all have something that drives us crazy, people who get under our skin, noises that make our skin crawl, and situations that just make you shake your head and wonder ‘What the fuck?’
Today some very funny people are stepping up and telling us what bugs them.
I should say some very funny women. The fellas are on deck for Thursday! So sit back and have a laugh today. You’ve earned it!
It bothers me that we never have enough money. We live on a shoestring budget…
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My face must be wrinkle free, despite forty-three years soaking up sun on this planet. My tits need to be full and perky, even though two children sucked them dry. My ass should be round and tight like a ripe peach regardless of gravity and lack of lunges. My body and face are expected to be hairless and flawless, my toes perfectly polished on the end of callous-free feet. And then I open a magazine and find out I’ve been evidently neglectful of another area: my vaheina.
What. The. Fuck.
And here I thought the three R’s were Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.
I get it to some degree. Childbirth can shred your junk, resulting in genuine insecurity and embarrassment. Sure. Get that shit fixed if you feel you need to.
Maybe I’d be more concerned if my hoo-ha was being featured in Lady Gardens magazine. Or if I fear I’ll accidently show it to my chiropractor again. Until then, I’m good.
But hymenoplasty? Who wants their hymen back? Maybe I’m missing something…please explain this to me. If it’s fo real, I’ll put it on my Christmas list.
And G-spot shots? A SHOT. IN MAH VAG.
How could this possibly be worth a needle in my situation? So I looked it up. The shot (hyaluronan, a collagen based filler) claims to make the G-spot area larger for more frequent and intense multiple and/or spontaneous orgasms. I admit, that’s intriguing. Supposedly, it’s a painless procedure (said a man, probably) which can cost up to $1,000 and lasts roughly four months. Women are doing this in droves.
Ya’ll. There are even G-spot parties. That brings a whole new meaning to, “I’ll bring the spread.”
I can’t even….
….or could I? Is the new “pamper me” splurge a mani/pedi/vagi?
Would you? Could you? Have you? Dying to hear your thoughts on this?
I admit it, I fall hard for witty, smart, talented writers. Add approachable and adorable and, well, my admiration borders on creepy stalker vehement devotion. last year, I crossed paths with one such writer and I’m still reeling. In the same fashion that one brings home a boy/girlfriend to meet their parental units, I bring Katie Cross to Sisterwives Speak to meet you. Prepare yourself for a monstrous crush.
To read Katie’s light, adorable story about how one’s self-image can be totally skewed, hit THIS.
Are you still here? Click the f#cking link already. Geez.
So I bet you thought I was dead, or had been taken by sweaty cowboys for ransom, or maybe ran off with a dirty, tattooed musician….
Nah.
I’m happy, safe, and well. I’m sure you all were just worried sick.
The good news is I’m writing! Or editing. Or both, rather. Working on that novel like a MOFO. I needs to get ‘er done, you know what I’m saying? And now I have to, because I’m trying to enter a YA manuscript contenst by Oct. 1st. *nervous laughter*
I can do this, right??? RIGHT?
I know it doesn’t look like it, but I AM writing! Today I shared a story very close to my heart over on the sisterwives blog. I’d be honored if you read it.
He was found by his aunt in his home at the age of two, abandoned by his alcoholic mother. Just a baby. Scared. Hungry. Crying.
She took him in and cared for him for a while, but eventually she had to hand him off to another family member. Over the years, he was passed around to just about everyone. Some were incredibly kind; some merely tolerated him. For one short stint he stayed with a California aunt and uncle. The alchoholic uncle got drunk one night and attempted sexual abuse – a common occurrence – with the now seven year old. The orphan tried to protect himself and a shoved the man; he fell and smashed his head on the corner of a metal coffee table.
The head injury was fatal.
The orphan was then sent back to the East Coast to live with his grandparents, Ma and Pop, whom…
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When Laura A. Lord asked me to guest post for her Women’s Issues series, I said yes without hesitation. But as my date crept up, I struggled with what to write.
Last night I sat in front of a blank computer screen for hours.
I knew exactly what story my soul wanted to tell. But I was fighting it.
Finally at midnight, I undammed the words.
I wrote about a single incident.
One that changed the trajectory of my life.
Read about it here.
1. This HOP. Duh. And the fact that it made it to the ripe, still-sexy age of 50! WOOOP! I’m so grateful for this community of incredible people!
2. The ability to muster strength and courage this week, which was only possible with the tiny shred of confidence I’ve managed to build over the past few months. I realize this is vague, but just know I had reason to feel ten feet tall. I conquered something. Something that has conquered me in the past. For now, I rule the kingdom. LIKE A BOSS.
Beth Teliho 