My husband doesn’t NEED to see your boobs.

My husband doesn’t NEED to see your boobs. But I kinda want you to show them to him. Would it be ok if I looked too?  See you have REALLY really nice boobs. I have boobs too but mine have fed 3 kids and inflated and deflated due to nursing, menstruation, that year we ate almost exclusively fast food, and they are not in their prime. I’m not even sure mine were ever as perfectly round and perky as yours are.

Thank you for posting online for anyone to see, bikini pics and short shorts pics and for making a full album of images that my husband can access later in his imagination.( The really nice ones I will store away too for reasons I will clarify later)

Do you happen to have any hot male friends that I could search as well? My mental database of hot hunks that I use mostly to fill in and flesh out the heros and louts in my trashy romance novels is getting kinda outdated.(Fabio anyone?) I can imagine them up from scratch for sure but it is more fun knowing that hot guy is out there IRL somewhere. Even if meeting him would be a non-issue and he would never even consider a middle-aged housewife a “hot conquest”. It’s still fun to dream. (The really awesome lady pics I saved mentally are for the heroines of course.)

I want you to know that your exposure of the sexually appealing parts of your body and skin, and your aesthetic beauty are a roadblock in our marriage. We have pledged fidelity to one another! To never for the rest of our lives share a sexual encounter with anyone else. We promised and pledged this to each other and in front of others and even in a church so I assume that includes God.

The roadblock your exposure causes is like one of those that we both are forced to stop at, and rubberneck at the demolition or construction or disaster or monument or whatever neat thing is causing our path to be obstructed for a moment and then we take the detour together and continue to share and gossip about how “Now THAT was a pair of breasts that deserved a moment of appreciation!”

My husband is a human man( at least I’m pretty sure he is) He also is a middle aged individual! In perfect compliment to my overused and middle aged breasts he has some male pattern baldness,some back hair and a paunch to rival mine own. I assume he has a functioning libido. (if the way he chases me around the bedroom sometimes is any indication) It is a surprise and down right SHOCK to know that I still have a decent sexy drive myself!

I know. I KNOW.  NO ONE wants to think of middle aged out of shape parents engaging in sexytime romps! We as a society that values beauty and youth to the extreme point of creating sexual imagery that does not even exist in the real world are repulsed by the mental image of real people with realistic bodies engaging in the ever mythical ultimate pleasure that is sex. I mean EW!(right?)

So when we encounter images that are not airbrushed and not altered and still are AMAZED by them we stop to look and sometimes even to instill an image in our minds to recall later. I’d like to liken this to seeing a fantastic work of art or taking a picture of  a beautiful sunset .

When I lay in bed with my husband at night I sometimes wonder if he is thinking of that exquisitely tanned, young and high riding pair of breasts we saw, (or if he had found a set that I did not get to share) instead of mine. Because sometimes I am lying in bed thinking about how much Hugh Jackman or Ryan Gosling on a horse in the rain would probably smell like old leather and sex.  

In short I hope my husband  DOES have a mental bank of images mixed and matched together to use in his imagination as he sees fit! He did not pledge his dreams or fantasies to me. I did not pledge mine to him. We made a choice to travel down the road of life together. We support one another and share the most mundane and intricate moments of life together. We share our hearts and souls. We are committed to raising good individuals in our children and doing what we can to be good people.

The truth is good people have libidos too. The truth is good people can and DO have sex. The truth is good people can and DO masturbate. The truth is this is NOT an evil or aberrant behavior! It is human behavior, healthy human behavior.
I do not worry that the the young perky sets of breasts out there are going to steal away the love and commitment my husband gave to me. He remains confident that Chris Hemsworth is not going to steal me away and ruin my love for him.  When I wrap my arms around my husbands neck and he presses his lips to mine. I do not worry that he is thinking of another. I’m confident that in those shared moments of intimacy the breasts he is searching for with fevered hands are mine. 

The Athletic Director

     It was 1991 and my awkward, poorly dressed self was starting high school. Everyone is nervous when walk into that pressure cooker of academic and peer assessment.  Middle school had been difficult and optimism was my best friend that day.  Literally because I had no other friends.  Eventually I found my locker and clumsily attempted to put away my belongings and prepare for class.
     Damien had the locker next to mine.  His toadies circled him, laughing and making fun.  Someone asked how he was going to be able to stand having a locker next to mine for the next four years.  Lockers were assigned alphabetically and assignments were considered non-negotiable. Damien laughed, looked me in the eye and and said, "Don't worry I am going to kill her."
     My heart stopped. He wasn't even close to kidding.  The rest of the day falls in big chunks of memory determined mostly by his proximity.  It showed on my face when I got home.  Finally my parents pried the events from me.  I was truly scared.  My Dad decided to go down to the school and get things worked out.
A few days went by mostly uneventful.  There was the usual verbal attacks some inconsiderate behavior by the lockers but nothing too threatening.  Dad went to the office but nothing seemed to change.
     I was enjoying the journalism of a young Anderson Cooper on Channel One when I was summoned over the intercom to the office.  Unaware of what was happening I went downstairs just in time to observe a familiar figure exit the building.  I felt how his charisma affected everyone as I entered the office.  The school secretary a was aglow from the charming conversation they had most likely shared.  I was told to go to the principal's office, they were waiting for me.
    I sat down in a room dominated by wood, a large desk and a small, unexpected man behind it.  He was small with trim, steel gray hair and hard eyes.  This was not the principal.  Mr. Spring was the Athletic Director.  He was well acquainted with Damien and his father, the award-winning wrestling coach.  The following is my 22 year old memory of the conversation that took place in that room.

"Heather you told your parents that Damien threatened to kill you. That you believe him." Mr. Spring started.
"Yes."
Damien smirked and Mr. Spring gave him a hard look.
     Eyes now void of expression he said to me,  "Due to your sensitivity we are going to move Damien's locker.  It seems you need to avoid Damien.  This problem will not be discussed again and you will have no further problems with Damien.  Is that understood?"
I hesitated.
"Is that understood?" tone threatening now.
"Yes."
"Go back to class.  Heather don't cause anymore problems. It would be a shame if you became a problem for me."
     Walking into the main office, I felt sick.  The secretary asked if I was feeling alright. I nodded and left.  I couldn't cause anymore trouble after all.  I hurried back to homeroom disappointed that I had missed Anderson Cooper signing off.
     I went back to my locker after first period to find Damien was already gone.  Relief swept through me.  The new girl wondered where the cute guy went.  Things were looking brighter.
       At home my parents asked what happened.  Simply told them that Damien's locker was moved.  There was discussion as to why mine wasn't moved.  Why was he given a choice location? Did I think that less proximity would calm him a bit? On and on.  I wanted to get back to my optimism.
        It was the 23rd Psalm that soothed me. Walking through the valley of the shadow of death was a vague image then, that has crystallized as I reflect on this experience.  Damien seemed intent on my death.  There were two arson attempts on our home.  Our cat was tortured and eventually murdered.  Even as my ribs and hip bones jutted out of my clothes, insults relating obesity were shouted at me as I walked through the halls or down the street. It was an attempt to cause an eating disorder.  On more than one occasion I was stalked through our small town while a group of wrestlers yelled insults and threats at me. Once he had his driver's license I had to choose routes home where if he ran me down there would at least be a suspicion that it was on purpose.  Yes, police reports were filed.  When we requested a copy of the report, it couldn't be found.
     Through the next four years I spent a lot of time reading Scripture.  It refreshed me and guided my behavior.  My faith grew through the daily persecution.  Trials aren't always death and illness. Bullies are not always your peers.