2009 October » CoupleDumb

Celebrity Smackdown : Sommers and Her Moist Personality

Oct 282009

That's the look of a woman with a moist pussy.

          Today is Wednesday and you know what that means, someone is going to get smacked down! However, this week we’re talking about aging and celebrities are making this way too easy on us. From the tugging and pulling and filling and removing of different parts of their bodies to make them tight and young and desirable and employable, most of our glitterati are smackable. Should we go after the actors who, in an attempt to thumb their noses at time, have become unrecognizable? You know, Rourke and Love and Ryan and the list goes on and on. Or are they too easy? We figure we’ll set our sights on something less obvious. So while we dent our tuna cans in an attempt to create our homemade botox, you can read about another celebrity who has eschewed the scalpel but still has done her fair share of defying gravity.

          Lee says: I’m not a prude but I’m not one to seek out discomfort. The idea of having my fat sucked out of my ass sounds appealing until the pain and girdling and bruising and drains come in. I am not of the mindset that I would never do anything to disguise the fact that my age is catching up to me. I had some pretty intense gray by age 25 and at the age of 43, I can safely say that getting rid of the gray isn’t just playing with my hair color but defying what nature wants to show the world. Ain’t nothing wrong with a little Clairol to make a girl feel young again.

          So what’s my beef with people like Suzanne Sommers? I mean, she looks pretty damn good for a woman approaching a century and there is something to be said for having thighs that can crush a skull just for the hell of it. However, call me paranoid but there is something a little Dorian Grey about this woman that really freaks me out. I mean, if we watched old ‘Three’s Company’ would she look like a hag? Is Chrissy Snow pushing a walker while Mr. Roper jumps to comical conclusions?

          No, her secret consists of good living and lots of meds. She starts everyday by either rubbing estrogen or progesterone on the inside of her forearms. She also takes over 60 pills a day consisting of vitamins and different bioidentical hormones which mimic naturally occurring hormones. The purpose to all of this is to fake out the body to think that the chick is some hot 20 year old having regular periods and not a 63 year old bitch who’s ovaries have long closed up shop and are devoid of ova. But before you start bitching about how I’m hating (BTW, have you read the post on shadows?), what’s your opinion on her giving her vagina an injection of estriol everyday?

          Yes, you read that right. I am not referring to using a shot glass or slapping the old hoohoo. She sticks a needle in her personality (I use this word with permission from my friend, Patricia. Her Mommy calls a girls bits their personalities~ I figure if a guy can be a dick…). She does this specifically to stop vaginal dryness. OK. Just stop and let that one sink in (no pun intended).

          I will readily admit that at 43 I am not getting as wet as I did back in my 20s where a look was all it would take and maybe I haven’t reached the age yet where my hoohoo becomes so dry that it needs an injectable chap stick. But seriously people, how bad can a dry pussy be that you feel the need to introduce a needle? Are we talking desiccated? Isn’t lube enough to help with friction while asking Jesus for shoes or waxing the giraffe? Would you prefer I say fuck instead of euphemisms? Whatever it is, I just think ewwww.

The Princess Mask

Kids and why you can't kill them

Oct 272009

My heart just stopped.

          Good Morning Tuesday! How are you today? Did you get enough sleep? Any bad dreams? Here, at the CoupleDumb estate, sleepy time is cherished as the only time during the day where a person can concentrate for more than 30 seconds at a time. A parent does not require a manual to raise their child. However, they could definitely use an extra helping of sleep and patience. And still, everyday that goes by takes us closer to a day where our kids won’t be keeping us up or waking us up on a daily basis. That sounds like heaven for a moment and then the sting hits. Our babies are getting older.

          Lee says: The other day, we were getting in the car and I was watching Ricky, the 2 year old terror, getting in the van and then his car seat. He did this while talking to his brother and sister. With little effort. Paul stood behind me and as I turned I could see that he was watching Ricky too.

          Me: He’s getting so big.

          Paul: Yeah. (eyes got misty.)

          Me: You O.K.? (eyes getting misty)

          Paul: I’m fine. Pretty soon I won’t have to strap him in the car. That’s great.

          Me: Yeah, but pretty soon he won’t lay on you to sleep and call you Dada or come to you when he cries…

          Paul: Shut up and give me a tissue.

          Unlike Paul, I will admit I love it when my kids are still little enough to carry. I use to hold Jeannie every night before she went to sleep. She would hop in my arms and we would pray. Her little body would curl up into my chest and she would relax and drift off. We needed to stop this when her legs flopped off to one side. Bobby never was one to sleep on me but he loved (and still does) taking his nap in my bed which was so convenient when I was pregnant with Ricky.

          As our children grow, we go through an almost constant transition. With change, we experience micro-losses that, if we deny or ignore, accumulate and make our relationships with our kids very dysfunctional. If we fight the fact that they are getting older or if we fail to mourn the loss of our babies who are now adolescents or adults, we will constantly try to address them or treat them like the babies we wish they were. In other words, if you don’t accept them getting older, you will ruin your relationship with them.

          And what are you teaching them? How are you accepting your gradual aging? I learned from my Mom that a woman can get older but she doesn’t need to look older. As a person who began sporting the very, very light blond hair at the tender age of 25, I don’t expect to show the world my silver locks for many, many years to come. Whereas my mother has transitioned to accepting me as an adult, my Daddy still thinks I am a little girl.

          I had my father read my first unpublished novel. I respect my father and as an avid reader, his opinion was important to me. He read it and told me how proud he was of me. And then, as if to remind me that I was still the toothless girl in pigtails said, ‘The story is beautiful and I love it but you ruined it with bad words and sex. If you take all of that out, it would be perfect’. The story is about a woman finding her voice and reclaiming her life. Sex and swearing are really a key element to the tale. So I asked him, ’Daddy, be honest. If you thought someone else had written this, would you have minded the sex and swearing?’ He said, ‘Of course.’ The lack of eye contact made me push him a little more. ‘Daddy, which bothers you more, that I included a sex scene or two in the book or that I wrote it really well?’

          I will always be his little girl. The thought that I could come up with a scene that could be sexy just crashes into the image of the little girl who idolized him. This disparity with reality has caused some friction between us but we have risen above it because I know he adores me and I him. I let him baby me and just know it comes from a place of resistance to change. He is my cautionary tale when it comes to parenting. I need to keep the example of love and affection but avoid the need to keep my kids young and innocent. Besides, that’s Paul’s job. As I write this he is buying Jeannie a princess costume for Halloween.

          Paul says: Do you think Snow White or Cinderella? Which one wears more clothes?

Miscarriage, Acceptance and Being Pissed at God

Monday, Heavy Monday

Oct 262009

Insert your own caption.

         It’s Monday of what is shaping up to be a weird week. We were, and still are, doing aging this week but somewhere between last week’s theme of pregnancy and this week’s celebration of birthdays we took a hard turn into this week’s real theme of life, death and acceptance. After some thought and a little movie inspiration, we realized pregnancy week was not over yet but aging week started long ago. Yes we talked about all the wonderful things about being pregnant and having kids and how the kids adjusted to the new kids. However, we missed the most emotional experience we had when we were pregnant several years ago. That baby did not make it. We hate to start the week on a bummer but we promise if you read this all the way through, it will give even the saddest of you a little hope and that is what getting older is all about. Now, the miscarriage post.

           Lee says: In December of 2004, we found out my brother and sister-in-law, were pregnant with their third baby. A week later on our anniversary in January, we found out we were pregnant again. We were elated. Sure, Bobby had just had his first birthday, but we weren’t getting any younger and the thought of Bobby being alone when Jeannie went off to college when he was only 7 was depressing. Paul had been less willing to have another child but the two blue lines changed his mind. And the added bonus was that my sister-in-law and I would basically be delivering almost at the same time.

          Towards the end of January, my mother called me to tell me that Mari, my sister-in-law, was spotting. By the end of that day, she had miscarried. We were saddened by the loss. There was the typical questions of ‘what had gone wrong’ or   ‘what did she do wrong’ which never help a situation. We chocked it up to fate who is a fickle bitch and hoped that the next time was the right time.

          My first ultra-sound was scheduled for February 9^th which also happened to be the anniversary of when I started walking. I realize that most people would not understand why this is significant but I promise it will make sense in the end. Paul and I were eagerly aniticpating seeing our little peanut for the first time. I had a feeling it was a girl but knew she would be too small to confirm the sex. The ultra-sound started like all others; dark room, nervous laughter and Paul cracking the inappropriate jokes. Within the first few minutes, the laughter died out and our hopes and expectations of a complete family were dashed. The baby had no heart beat. The technician brought in the radiologist who looked for a moment and came to the same conclusion. There were no condolences and what was left of the happy couple were two people in shock at the loss of a baby that was just in our imagination.

          The subsequent OB visit for the D and C is a surrealistic mash up of sensations and images. What I recall is the cold. I remember holding a pillow and crying. I remember my sister, sister-in-law and Paul crying with me. My wonderful doctor, Dr. Randy Fink (if you live in Miami you have to look him up-he is the best), was the doctor I needed on that day. He reassured. He hugged me and told me he was sorry this happened.

          I was feeling a pain that can only be described as hollow. I would imagine that this is what a broken heart feels like. I experienced a melancholy that, at the time, required gnashing of the teeth and wailing but all I could do was sit still while the tears ran down my face.

          Meanwhile, Paul became angry. He decided that the culprit of all this pain was God. Our brother-in-law, the therapist, had Paul come in to do a hypnotherapy session to release these emotions. What resulted was an uncensored indictment of our Heavenly Father. Paul was very proud of how he told the Big Guy off. When hearing of his escapades, I quickly reprimanded my husband. I actually said to him, ‘If you get angry with God, He’ll punish us again!’

          My pain transitioned into fear and before I knew it, Lee was lost and I was doomed machinations of everything she loved. I was afraid of everything. Every time Paul mentioned his feelings towards God I would cringe and wait for the lightening bolt. I was no longer the Lee who laughed at danger and sought out adventure. I was scared of everything.

          Five months after the miscarriage, I started a new journey. I agreed to go to a weekend retreat where we would do some therapy and hypnosis. I could begin to see that I had lost myself in my fears and all of them were sown on the day I lost that baby. By the end of the year, I was participating in a monthly group that helped me dive deeper into the fear. Where was it from? Why now? But the answer was simple. I no longer trusted life and in turn had lost my trust in God. This revelation was like removing my blinders. I could see that my immature reaction’s to Paul’s anger towards God was really that I questioned His love.

          As I began to experience a newfound hope in life and rebuilding my relationship with God, I lost my best friend. One day she was alive and kicking, the next day, gone. This should have sent me into a complete fear spiral again but this time, since I had a better foundation, I understood the loss. Don’t get me wrong. It hurt. A lot. But Suzy, my friend, taught me a great lesson of the beauty of the human spirit that I knew was another gift from the Big Guy himself.

          Four months after Suzy passed, in Spring of 2006, I was given another gift. The two blue lines introduced me to the hope of a new life. I knew from the moment I saw them that it was a boy. I knew at that moment that everything I had gone through, the miscarriage and fear and subsequent enlightenment was needed to get me to this point. I was blessed with a miscarriage to appreciate my life and the lives of all my loved ones. That little baby gave me more in her tiny life than I could have ever imagined. I had learned to walk again and this time on a path to self improvement and acceptance. And with the two new blue lines, I was given another gift; a knowing that I was loved and embraced by the Universe itself.

          Paul says: More to come.