MILF HUNTRESS

Guys.  I can’t wait to get a camera back.  Because I think I look……FANTASTIC!  lol  I’ve received two a$$ compliments in the last week!  One from girlfriend at the gym.  “You are getting a pop butt.”  One from hubby.  “I have always been an -ss man, and YOU have the PERFECT -SS.”  Well sh-t f-ck, but it took me FIVE long f-cking years to build one.  Miracles CAN and do happen, so never give up hope.  I could say it was the cable kick backs,…but that would only be partly true.  It came from loving my own a$$…flat butted, cellulited flaws and all.   NOTHING ever grows from hatred.  SO I decided to start loving my own bum anyway.  THAT’S when I started building me a nice little shelf.  What can I say?  ALL THINGS grow with love.

Ooh, so I had an entire medium black olive pizza and 5 pieces of cheesecake for my birthday. Never traditional, I had the family sing “for she’s a jolly good fellow”….only we changed the words to “for she’s a fiery blonde stallion”.  This is what my middle daughter jokingly calls me…AND I LIKE IT.  Hubby says, (becoming ever more defensive of his manhood), “You are not a STALLION.…you are a MARE.”  I say, “I am whatever the f-ck I say I am.”  As a woman thinketh, and all that jazz.  Speaking of “All That Jazz”…I am taking my daughters to see the musical Chicago this week!  One of my favorite movies/musicals of all times.  I love dangerous and powerfully seductive ladies.  Don’t you?

G-d I’m such a gem.

Ok, so I am on day 4 of week 1, am I?  So far so easy.  Yesterday I had a mozzarella cheese omelette for breakfast, creatine post work-out, grilled chicken tender salad at Cracker barrel for lunch, and 1/2 protein shake with a chicken sandwich from sonic for supper, minus the bun. 

Today is an off day.  Off days always make me want to go shoot myself.  I know it is something my body needs to have however.  So I do it.  Well….that and I will be working past the time my gym closes.  lol 

My husband had a tense moment at lunch today when I just off handedly commented to daughter that a young man in the room looked like a bodybuilder.  Husband about exploded at me.  Later saying, (in front of my girls I might add), something about my “fetish for young men“.   Yeah…he yelled this in the car.  AFTER the initial HORRIFICATION…..I laughed my a-s off….LONG AND HARD. 

 Ok, so here is the point where we differentiate fact from fiction.  True life from online personas.  Do I admire the young bodybuilder physique?  Most certainly.  This is what I do.  BODIES ARE MY ART.  Is this a threat to my husband?  No more than were the girls he was looking at when I was fat or pregnant.  Cough-kiiti-cough.

My husband has lunacy and I am his moon.  Brought me home supper tonight from Hy-Vee Deli.  Had meatloaf and salad bar.  Picked out the pink parts.  Oldest is receiving driving training through grandmother.  Which means she should come home driving through yellow lights and freaking everyone the f-ck out.  Called to check on my ladies and everyone was worried about the puppies.  “How are the puppies?  How are the puppies?”  Well I kicked them off MY feet when I left this morning.  I heard dad kicking them off HIS feet when he got home tonight.  I guess this means they’re still kicking or otherwise being KICKED.  I didn’t make it for double cardio tonight.  I’ve still got Thursday, Friday,….Hell I’ll only make 3 again this week.  Was looking at some PORN tonight (kids are gone, what else).  Realized (once again)….I’ve still got NOTHING ON MEN with the badness.  If I ever do get in trouble for my sexual scalliwaggering I will ONLY respond in the style of a true Christian.  It’s not me Lord.  It’s these men that you gave me.

There is something very special about a man wanting to marry a lady.  This is a man’s way of saying, “I choose to never live without you….In fact, I will not.”  Every woman deserves this feeling.  Every woman deserves a man who will make this commitment.  So what takes some men so long?  Ladies, if you have been with a man 7-8 years and haven’t bought satin shoes or a flower bouquet, it may very well be time to move on.  And men, what is there to fear?  Divorce is always an option.  Sure you may be masturbating in back rooms and corners for hours.  That’s ok.  I know you’re an animal.  You know you’re an animal.  All your lady really needs to know is, that you’ll always love her forever.

You have to be a little crazy to love this, don’t you think?  You have to be a lot crazy to be this passionate about anything.  Yep, Jesus, Moses, Abraham, Isaac,….all crazy bastards.  Likewise non-biblical bastards as well.  Alexander, Caesar, Christopher Columbus, Leonardo DaVinci, Mozart, Beethoven, Van Gogh, Cleopatra, Shakespeare, Joan Of Arc, Queen Elizabeth, Marco Polo,……..all off their rocker.  I’m a little off my rocker myself.  Which is why my husband loves me.  It is nice to be loved not in spite of such a thing, but because of it. 

I don’t care if I AM 163 lbs in the morning.  I am 163 lbs of the finest horse flesh your ass has ever seen.  For Valentine’s Day, me and hubbie celebrated the old fashioned way.  Our fourth (and final?) swinger party at Crazy Dave Caves.  Can I ask you a question?  Is it just swingers, or is it that 1 in every 5 men has a foot fetish???  Dearie me, but I don’t care, because I got perhaps the BEST foot rub of my life tonight, by a very sweet and gentle perv.  I believe his name was Dave too.  Hubbie made me leave before I dragged both their asses into the family room for a little demonstration.  So we get home, and I ask hubbie, “So just what is it that makes my feet so special?”  Because men are just all over them.  My honey (who bought me a dozen red roses today) said, “I don’t know…..maybe it’s the way you play with them.  Whatever it is about those fancy feet….the way you pick things up with them.  Used to freak me out.  How the hell was I to know you were just plain lazy?”  All I know is, even more than my breasts, men LOVE my feet.  Which I think…is sweet.  Happy Valentine’s Day.

SO honey wants me to take down my last blog.  He thinks there-in lies a secret message of some sort.  I said, “Honey, if I really, really wanted de cock, el cocko, I would be rolling in it.  And I wouldn’t be rolling in my own community.”  Yes, I would be taking trips.  Lots and lots of spontaneous trips.  All planned at a single moment’s notice.  All mysteriously paid for.  Come to mention, must go get packed for New Orleans.

Have I told you that I descended from a tribe of witches and gypsies?  Would you believe me if I told you that my maternal grandmother kept a man bound to her by keeping a 3 inch wax figure of him in her purse at all times?  This has been passed down from generation to generation for as long as my family can remember.  My husband is in my purse right now.  Like my grandfather, and great grandfather before him, he is 3" tall.  Molded from the wax of a candle my mother gifted me upon menstruation.  Which was gifted to her by her mother.  Every day I take my husband out of my purse and I whisper in his ear, "You shall not escape me."   Sometimes I suck on him.  Other times I put him in dark, quiet places, where he will not be disturbed.  This is no love.  This is ownership.  We are the basque and the mic-mach.  No man of ours has yet outlived us.  My husband calls us the black widows, for not one has ever escaped.