This morning, I drew a conclusion and the more I think about this conclusion, the more brilliant I feel for having finally caught up with the game.  Allow me to explain:

The most popular search terms that lead people to this blog are always variations about my cleavage.  Pale cleavage, freckly cleavage, mom cleavage…that kind of thing.  And of all the things that I have written, of all the stories I have woven for my readers, the only post I have ever had syndicated showed pictures of my naked body.

Internet, I think you want me!

I find this perplexing since, on a global scale, I can be sort of a fugly.  I mean, when you compare me to an airbrushed super-skinny babe (and there are MANY on the internet) I don’t even register.  So I must ask, “Internet, what are you thinking??”

Ok, don’t answer that.  I don’t want to hear explanations of drunken nights and meth-induced trances brought on by my bright and shiny white skin.  Wait a minute, does my cleavage cause hallucinations?  If it does, Oh My God THAT IS AWESOME!  I shall have to find a way to make this a bankable commodity.

Welcome to the blog of the Amazingly Hypnotic Cleavage and the Blindingly Pale Stretch Marks!

T-shirts upon request.

Ok, so I am behind on that whole “post something cute once a week” promise I made a while back.  What can I say?  I suck.  End of story.

Anyhow, I decided to give my kids a break and share with you the cuteness of my cats.  We used to have 4 but now there are three.  One of the kittens was just not really socializing with people and was being squeamish and acting like a wild animal whenever we got too close.  With small kids, I can’t have that, so we adopted him out to a good place where he can get a little more one on one time.  This is who we are left with:

So she used to be called “Squirrel” or “Squirrely Girl”, right?  Well have I ever told you that I have a terrible habit of naming pets one thing and then giving them a nickname that is more their name than the official name?  Well I’ve done it again except this time I outright changed it.  So she is no longer Squirrel.  Her new name is Midgey.  She just looks like a Midge, and with the y on the end, it’s cute.  It is.

This cat has the intelligence of a muddy boot.  I have watched this cat try to jump on to high platforms only to splat in an epic fail kind of way.  I have watched her sit in her water dish and then tear ass through the house, traumatized over her wet butt.  She is dumb….but in an endearing sort of way.  She’s also very affectionate and fuzzy.  And fat.  She somehow got really fat.  I have no idea how it happened, but this cat got blumpy!  Again, in an endearing sort of way.  She’s my flufflepuff and I like her a whole lot.

I have had the hardest time sexing this cat.  As a baby, we were certain this was a male cat.  Now that they are nearing the 6 month age, we are pretty certain either this cat has a mutation where the testicles just never formed or it’s a female.  I’m pretty sure it’s safer to say “female.”  I used to call this cat Romeo, but now that the whole “Oh I don’t think you have a penis!” thing has happened, I’ve been calling this cat Sweety, since this cat is ultra mega sweet.  I’m not even kidding.  This cat is precious and darling.  I almost lost her due to a bad case of worms, but we were able to nurse her back to health.  She has emerald green eyes and a pink nose and she always meows very softly.  Sweety.

And there’s my beauty, Salem.  The only cat to retain her original name.  She hasn’t a speck of color on her.  She is pure black and her fur is thick and luxurious.  She’s an Alpha cat, but she’s sweet about it.  The only thing she gets fussy and bitchy about is her perch on the top of the cat play station.  That is where she sleeps and if another cat is up there when she wants it, she simply jumps up there, whacks the out-of-bounds intruder and lazily claims her territory.  She’s also a bit of a sentinel.  She is watchful and protective of her family.  Any time guests come over, she inspects them closely before she can relax.  I catch her staring at me all the time, watching me.  She always has a loving look on her face, but it can be a little off-putting.  Never you mind about all of that.  Make it a point to always befriend a black cat.  They are good luck and make for good companions….unless they are the kind that like to shit in your shoes.  Thankfully, Salem is the nice kind.

……

………….

…………………..

Ok, ok.  ONE picture of my boys before I end this.  And I’m only sharing this picture because I can feel my throat close up when I look at it because I am so touched by it.

Beautiful.

I think I’m a pretty great person.  Most of the time, I am quite amused with myself and my ability to notice my own awesomeness while at the same time laughing at my total lameness.  The majority of my self-confidence is based upon my personality.  I’m a little smart and a lot smart ass.  I love to laugh and try to find humor in everything, even if it does make me look a bit like a hyena.  I’m not too full of myself, I’m holding a good middle ground on that.  But there seems to be something missing from my self-confidence that bothers Jessie a lot more than it bothers me.

You see, I’ve been with Jessie since I was 18 years old.  He was my date to my Senior prom.  In April, it will have been 10 years with this guy.  That’s my whole adult life.  When he first got with me, I was a carefree high school girl.  I had a lot of guy friends with whom I would flirt shamelessly and use as playthings from time to time.  My self-confidence in the “I am a hot bitch” department was sky high.  We lived in a small town and I never had a shortage of male attention coming my way.

But when I got with Jessie, as the relationship got more and more serious, I did what I was supposed to do in that situation and I turned off the flirting and the holding on to guy friends in case this didn’t work out.  I was respectful to the person I love and was even halo-worthy good behind his back.  But as time wore on and Jessie and I moved in together and eventually got married, that funny saying that they tell women when they get married became true for me.

“You are trading the attentions of many for the inattention of one.”

I went from never having a quiet evening to myself because of phone calls from guys or hanging out with guys to spending my evenings alone while Jessie played Dungeons and Dragons or PS2 or working.  I didn’t nag him.  I wouldn’t nag him about things like that because he’s a hard worker and deserves a hobby.  Then one day, he started complaining to me that I wasn’t the same person as I was.  He said that I wasn’t as confident anymore and my sexiness had come from that confidence.

It REALLY fucking bothered me.

I started looking inward and was trying to think of what I had to do to make myself pleasing to my husband again (I know…..).  I tried losing weight, but as the weight came off, I noticed it did nothing for my confidence and didn’t make Jessie any more attracted to me.  I changed my looks; dressed more provocatively and yet nothing changed.

Then one day, not long after Lukas was born I had a light bulb-over-the-head kind of moment.  That confidence that he is always talking about came from the fact that I knew without question that no matter what, I had someone out there who thought I was great and wanted nothing more than to be with me.  I had a few of them, but if one failed, there was always more.  When I left them all behind for Jessie, more and more he thought of me as an accessory.  I questioned his opinion of me and I wondered if I would be thrown to the side for something better.  I had doubt.  And the levels of neglect at this time were much more than being thrown to the side for a silly hobby.  When I tell you that we would only have sex maybe twice a year, I’m not kidding.  We would never hug or kiss.  In fact, I remember when Lukas was almost 2, Jessie came home from work one day and grabbed me and kissed me and Lukas freaked out because he had never seen that before.  To be honest, I freaked out because it had been years since Jessie had done that.

Things changed.  They had to.  We moved, Jessie changed jobs and this past year has been the first year of our marriage that I can call “good”.  6 years of marriage (in May) and this last one has been the only good one.  Gah.

He was still complaining about that lack of confidence.  He missed seeing me stroll into a crowded room like I owned the place.  He missed seeing other men try not to make it obvious that they were looking at me.  But here I am, 20 lbs. heavier, glasses always on my face and not really all the interested in flaunting my looks anymore because I want to be more than that.  But I get it.  I remember those days and I do sometimes miss that feeling of knowing that eyes are on me.

Yesterday we were having a discussion (a.k.a. bicker-fest) and I explained to him in a calm manner why it is that that brand of confidence that he misses is gone.

“That kind of confidence that you want in me hinges 100% on you,” I told him.  “The last time I was full of that confidence, I was surrounded by guys who would shower me with affection and compliments.  Now it’s just you and you have a past record of forgetting about me completely.  When I feel invisible to the one I love, my confidence goes down the crapper.  If you want that confidence back, you’re going to have to make sure that I KNOW that you love me and that you think I’m great and that you want me.  It’s more than saying it.”

He says he got it.  He says he understands better now.  In the past, that meant nothing.  He would try to make changes for the better for approximately 4 days and then quit.  But when he realized not so long ago that I was sick of living like this and was at the end of my rope and was simply counting reasons to stay, he put a bit more effort into his side of things.  Maybe he’ll shut up about THAT confidence.  Maybe he’ll realize that the reason why he found that so sexy was because while I was available in certain ways to everybody, I was unavailable on a one-on-one basis.  I’m available to him and only him now.  There isn’t any part of me that is off limits to him and I hope he knows that.

I’m all his.  Broken and all.