My daughter often grimaces and says, “Ewwwww…” when she notes my husband and I acting, saying, or being mushy with each other. Although in truth, now that she has her own boytoy and home she is saying fewer “Ewww’s” and more “oh’s.” Maybe understanding is the byproduct of relationships that are healthy. So, I’m giving fair warning to her. “Sasha, stop reading now if you don’t want to think about what I’m about to share.” There. My motherly responsibility has been honored and I am now absolved of any spontaneous “Ewww’s” that may result.
Okay. So I’m not a young, sleek, willowy woman. Truth be told, I’ve never been sleek and willowy, but I can claim the being young status at one point. Mostly by default, but it counts. Yea. However, no matter my size or age, my husband can unflinchingly look at a Victoria’s Secret catalog or model and somehow see me in those same poses and clotheses. (I went for a rhyme there.) As part of my Valentine’s gift he gave me a skimpy red lace thong with hearts all around. I love that he loves the idea of me wearing them, so of course I will. I may accidently make sure he sees them when I bend over or get undressed later. “What? Oh these? My lover gave them to me. Whatya think?” Twirl, twirl. There’s something wicked and fun about the intimate knowledge shared by lovers who are blinded to social constraints. Red hot panties and my Valentine boy…they are the best part of my day.