I Used To Be a Sex Goddess

When I met my husband, I was a size 3. Long hair, teeny, tiny, itsy, bitsy jeans, with a butt you could bounce a quarter off of (Yes, I actually tried it, and that sucker totally bounced off my butt... Ok. No, I didn't actually try, but I'm pretty sure if I were a contortionist, and I could have figured out a way to bounce a quarter off of my own ass, it totally would have bounced up to the ceiling. My butt was THAT firm).
I was 29, I had finally "found myself" and I was confident in a, "I-like-who-I-am-even-though-I'm-not-perfect" kind of way... not in a, "my-poop-doesn't-stink" kind of way... because lets face it.. so matter how pretty or perfect you are, your poop still stinks. Unless you're Charlize Theron... cuz I'm 99% sure her poop probably comes out smelling like fresh roses on a beautiful summer day.
Where was I?? Oh, yes. Quarters bouncing, confidence, and me being a sex goddess...
So, I was teeny, tiny.. which of course means I could fit into cute outfits.  And by "cute outfits", of course I mean the outfits you can only purchase in the buildings out in the boonies, with the neon pink and orange lights and "XXX" plastered all over the windows.
I'll call my husband "Steve" to protect his innocence, because of course, his name really IS "Steve"...  "Protect his innocence???" Really people, who do you think picked out these "cute outfits"?!? Innocence?? My cute, quarter bouncing, butt!
Anyway, Steve would come home from work, and I'd surprise him in a cute little "school girl" outfit I bought at the neon light place, with that look in my eye that says,  "Come and get it,"  and attack him as soon as he came in the door. I won't get into too many details because I'm a LADY, dammit!.. Lets just say, there are a LOT of rooms in the house, and we were a "no-stone-goes-unturned" type of couple. Kind of like an equal opportunity thing. We don't discriminate. Big fancy bedroom, dirty kitchen counter, bathroom... I mean, seriously...Why not show the bathroom a little love?? Honestly, that poor room gets no appreciation. It's a very important room, people! Think about it... You can sleep anywhere, you can eat at a restaurant, you can watch TV in every room in the house.. No one wants to spend time in the bathroom. Show your bathroom some love, people! And by "show" I mean SHOW.
Damn, I lost my train of thought again...
Oh ya.. Lots of lovin'. Unrushed-Uninterrupted,Shoes-in one-room, sexy-outfit-scattered-all-around-the house, I'm-so-sexy,-I-can't-take-it, kind of sex. SEVEN DAYS A WEEK!
You get the idea.

Fast forward 4 years.

I'm a size 7, ok, ok, sometimes 9. My hair is still long, in that, "did-I-brush-my-hair?-Forget-it.-Where's-my pony-tail-holder?" kind of way. My teeny, tiny, itsy, bitsy jeans are under the bed somewhere; Where they have been for 4 years and 2 months, (my son is four, do the math) where they're praying to be worn again.. but I know they're starting to realize that's probably not gonna happen, like, EVER... And the only thing bouncing off of my butt is my four year old when he decides I'm Bullseye, and he's Woody.
When Steve gets home from work, my hair is a mess, my makeup has been rubbed off for hours, I'm in whatever clothes fit that day, and I'm sitting in the middle of the living room floor (where a tornado the meteorologists apparently forgot to forecast, came through)  playing "pirates"  with Noah (who's name has also NOT been changed.. because he's four, and he's just like his dad, so I'm pretty sure he won't be too innocent either) with a look in my eye that says, "Shit, I gotta make dinner now???"
However, just like the old days, I still have an "outfit" that lets him know when I'm in "the mood". It's a ratty, blue, baseball jersey with the sleeves cut off. If I come out of my nightly bath with "the shirt" on with a look in my eye that says, "Put that kid to bed now, or you're never getting laid again, and when I say "NEVER" I mean like, NEVER. I'm serious, you have 5 MINUTES before I change into sweatpants and forget the whole thing, so get moving!".. he's knows it's ON.

Moral of the story??? I'm STILL a sex goddess. Because, lets face it... I'm married, I'm the mother of a four year old, I work 937 hours a week, I'm exhausted at the end of the day, and even though I might not be a super model anymore (ok, ok, I'm 5'3".. I was NEVER a super model)... my husband still finds me sexy as hell in a blue cut up shirt... And when that "you're never getting laid again unless our kid is sleeping in 4.3 minutes" look is in my eyes.. he returns it with a look of his own that says, "Oh hell ya, I'll be back in 2!"