I know. I don’t
often ever talk about sex here. It’s not that I’m a prude or anything. It’s just, well, it never really came up. HA. (When I go there, I GO THERE.)
But partly, I think, with my big transition in life this past Spring, I just feel like talking about different stuff. Hope that’s OK.
And I don’t want to talk about actual sexual positions specifically, although if you want to chat it up the comments, have at it! No, what I am thinking about has more to do with body image.
Because, here’s the thing. Bryan knows, after all these years, where NOT to touch me when we are having sex. Isn’t that weird? I have specific places I am so uncomfortable with, I don’t like him fondling them (“fondling” being a word I learned from teen romance novels), and we have been together so long, he knows I will chill out in the heat of the you-know-what if he goes there.
The obvious one is my stomach. I have always been a big girl, but even in thin times, I never wanted him near that region. DO NOT TOUCH MY STOMACH FOR ANY REASON. The funny thing is, being pregnant was a relief, because for the first time was all like – HEY YOU – ANYONE! – TOUCH MY BIG FAT BELLY! I LOVE ITS BIG FAT ROUNDNESS!
Some of that affection for its roundness lingered, but not much.
There are other places too, that make me uncomfortable, but they aren’t as BIG and ROUND and OBVIOUS as my belly.
Does Bryan care about my belly? Hell no.
Is it sad that that *I* care about my belly? Hell yes.
Is it wonderful that my husband thinks about these things and makes me comfortable during our most intimate moments?