More pointless bullshit.

Who decided that putting CHUNKS into yogurt was a good idea? I’m enjoying a delightful, creamy yogurt, and close my mouth around a CHUNK! This is not a pleasant sensation. It is gross, and vaguely reminiscent of vomit. Eww.

You are all jealous of me. Want to know why? Over the weekend, my darling Jen came over with about 5 pounds of amazing carne asada and pollo assado. Which we then barbecued, and ate until we all wanted to die. Even better than the food, was that Barry came as well. And Barry = Fun. Yes, that’s right, fun with a capital F.
So, I ate amazing food, including more guacamole than a human should ever consume, laughed my ass off with some fabulous people, then I got to eat leftovers today.
And to think, I was on the verge of getting a freaking taco salad from Togo’s. What a damned fool that would have made me.

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So, writing here can be tricky. I have a hard time drawing the line about what to share when it comes to personal issues. Not MY personal issues, hell as we can see it’s open season on my own insanity/bitchery. More like, relationship issues. How much info is too much? But then I don’t have much to say without talking about the shit I’m dealing with.

I’d heard from other women that this happens, I just wasn’t ready for it because, clearly, those issues only happen to other people. I’m having a hard time dealing with what having a kid means in my relationship. I’m overly sensitive, and also completely wanting to get it on pretty much all the time. Unfortunately, Xtian’s not totally on board with this. He's just not as interested anymore. It’s not his fault, he’s doing the best he can to reconcile my mama status with my old dirty ho self. And since I’m overly sensitive, every time he doesn’t grope, kiss or respond to my hinting or downright begging for action, it clearly means that he doesn’t love me and is probably already sleeping with someone else.

I know that’s ridiculous. I know it, but my crazy ass still thinks it. I’m not very good at being vulnerable. (what? No, not me.) A big part of my identity is tied to my sexuality. Be it right or wrong, I’ve always been a very physical person, and have never had trouble getting the partner I wanted. It’s not a question of being attractive, or thin, or anything else. Because frankly, I’m not the girl you cross the room to pick up. I’m the girl that once you start talking to you can’t really resist my overtures. And having to ask for sex, and being turned down is really fucking with who I am as a person.

I suppose this is all part of that transitioning to mamahood. But damn, why does it have to kick me when I’m down?