*Sex is extremely important to me. It’s in the top 5 things that I need to be happy.

When I was little I use to sneak around in the middle of the night, pretending like I couldn’t fall asleep. “Oh the insomnia,” I would whine. Little did my mom know, I was turning to Cinemax and HBO for some soft-core porno action. I utilized the previous channel button on the remote to keep my sexy secret safe. MTV, QVC, or some other three-letter network acted as my quick getaway. If I heard my mom’s door open. BAM. From moans to My So-Called Life. 

I think this all started when I was about 12 or so. I remember the feeling I would get while watching these dirty movies. A tingling sensation would take over. Sometimes I would touch myself, but that felt awkward and boring. Most of the time I would just watch. Enthralled with the feeling between my legs, I was obsessed. Every night I would sneak away, turn the TV down extra low, and hunker down for a night of learning and yearning. Those HBO bells would chime…the static would play…the choir would sing…and I would be whisked away on a journey of a good girl gone bad.

I felt guilty for my porno secret. I remember sitting in my 6th grade math class thinking, “If only they all knew what I did last night…they would be so ashamed.” Up until age 23-ish I was always conflicted with my sexuality and my conscience. Welcome to being a girl. Yayyyyy.

Like all normal people, there came a time when we stopped paying exorbitant amounts for HBO and Skinamax, but my love for porn never stopped. My high school boyfriend got me a porno DVD as a gift once. It was vile and was not the classy HBO/Cinemax stuff I had grown accustomed to. That was really the last time I watched it.

Until last week. Continue reading

Daughter Dear

I once listened to a story on This American Life about a mother who was dying of cancer and wrote her daughter a letter for every birthday. WARNING: If you listen to it make sure you are not on a run like I was…sobbing and snotting yourself as you try and trot is not easy. She wrote the letters so even after she passed she could stay in her daugther’s life and offer her wisdom and encouragement. However, it actually turned out to be a crutch and a very painful thing in the daughter’s life, but the mother had the best of intentions. Don’t they all.

It got me to thinking, though. What if I wrote a letter to my daughter. As a 25 year old, what would I say? What would I want her to know? Would I actually give it to her one of these days?

I actually don’t plan on having kids until I’m 32-ish. I want to see how this letter holds up. Would I change anything? Would I still want her to read it one day? So here I go, a letter to my theoretical girl who will (one day, all too soon) turn into a woman.

Maybe I will give it to her. Perhaps I won’t. Stick with me, and you shall find out 😉 Like 7 years from now… OK, here we go.  Continue reading

I’m very close

I’m very close to buying my mom an eHarmony subscription, account, dealio. The woman has been single for…25 years. I am 25 years old. You do the math. (I only give you easy problems) I can’t even imagine my mom with another man. It weirds me out a little. But I want it for her. I want her to be happy (happier). Let me explain.

For years the reason for her singledom has been that she’s happy with her life and she doesn’t need anyone. She has said that sometimes she gets lonely, but not enough to put up with another person.

My mom has been married twice. She was not married when she got pregnant with me, at the age of 35. My dad was not too kind when that happened. I believe the words he told her, before he drove off were, “You need to think about how you got yourself in this situation.” He wanted her to have an abortion. She didn’t want to. 9 months later, Baby Girl (insert last name here) was born. I didn’t have a name when I went home from the hospital. I digress…

e harmonyMy mom needs a buddy. A pal. A man. A guy friend. A date. A wang.

She’s “happy” alone…but here’s the deal. She’s afraid to admit that she’s lonely. It makes her more lonely. But I can tell. I know this woman…and she is lonely.

She’s elluded to be curious about dating sites. She’s never took the leap before. Mainly because of money. Online love is expensive! $59.95 for one month on eharmony. I KNOW! Dannnng.

So I’m ______ this close to doing it. Her birthday is right around the corner. She will be 61. It’s about time she found an old fart to fart around with.

Yours hopeful for interwebz luv for my mama,


update: I bought the subscription and at first she was upset that I “wasted” my money…but knowing my mom, I let it sink in and she’s already talking about losing weight and getting ready to start going on dates and getting some free dinners. It’s a step, I’d say!

I’m seeing things

No really, I’m seeing things.

My entire life my mom has talked about these “lights” and “shapes” that she would see. They would come and go, usually for about 30 minutes, they would strobe…move around…and sometimes when she talked to them they would pulsate. Yeah, sounds loony, huh? I never doubted her visions, which she thought was the other world trying to communicate with her. I’m sure I would have thought the same thing.

For 55 years she never told a doctor, or asked why. They just were spirits, obviously. Then about 5 years ago Google changed everything.

Ocular migraines. That’s what came up when she searched seeing strobing triangles. Ocular migraines are very different from normal migraines. I’ve never had a normal migraine. Ocular migraines aren’t painful, just annoying. The best way to describe it is like someone has just taken your pictures with the flash on and the lights are in your eyes. Except this time they don’t go away…

Mine started when I was in the shower on Friday. I leaned down to get my loufa all souped up with some cupcake inspired soap (side note: I feel like soap choice is really important to the shower experience…never be afraid to try something different; shower time is some of the best time in the world). I thought that the leaning forward had made me lightheaded. I wasn’t sure at first, but then the blinking moon of neon triangles didn’t stop. I assessed the situation to make sure I wasn’t passing out. But I didn’t feel weird. And then I knew.

mom's painting

My mom painted what she sees; this is just a piece of the whole.

My mom has painted these before…

I knew pretty quickly that this what was happening. It was very disorienting and mostly annoying. When I tried to look into the triangles, they would move with my eyes. I couldn’t look straight into them.

I remember once after my aunt had passed away, my mom said the lights came to her and she spoke to them. When she said her name they would get brighter and more vibrant. She knew without a doubt that Paula was communicating with her. And (for reasons unknown) I never questioned it.

But it wasn’t Paula. It was a visual disturbance that Google, the Mayo Clinic, and Web MD all have “Guides” to understanding.

And the treatment…well there really is none. The process that triggers these sinister spirits isn’t really understood. On they say, “The vision symptoms accompanying painless ocular migraines are not related directly to the eyes. Instead, these visual symptoms occur as a result of the migraine “activity” in the visual cortex of the brain located in the back of the skull.” FREAKY.

I always knew that things my mom has are things that I could have. Or do have. And there are some things about my mother that I would love to embody. Like her dark sense of humor, her ability to connect with kids, her watercolor skills. But I’d like to maybe opt out of some stuff, too. Like the varicose veins, latex allergy, and anti-social tendencies. But I guess it doesn’t work like that…the good always comes with the bad. It’s that dang ying of a yang. Gets ya every time.

Yours fortunately not talking to the lights (thanks Google),