Your Sexy Self

Sexy Pause

Posted by on Jun 20, 2014

I was holding my own ponytail as I bowed down to the porcelain goddess. You: Why are you blogging about something so incredibly unsexy?  Me:  Because if you look hard enough, there’s always a sexy lining. Keep reading. I was probably on the tenth cycle of slow- building nausea and feverish chills but it was the worst round yet because I had nothing left to purge. Nothing that is, but bile. Even though there was no one around to hear me but my dog, I felt so desperate that I actually said out loud, “Please. Stop.” And I heard my plea echo back to me in this husky, wise voice. Please stop. It was a profound back atcha’. I got the message. And just to make sure she knew it, I said out loud, “Okay. I will. I swear.” I closed the lid of the toilet with finality, sealing the deal.  I didn’t throw up again. I’ve heard of people making a deal with the devil. I felt like I’d just made a deal with an angel.  Because I knew deep down that I’d been pushing too hard and that if I didn’t stop, I could end up a lot sicker than this, my second flu bug in two months. As I rested my sweaty forehead against the porcelain coolness, I started thinking of all the things I just promised not to do. Spring skiing and everything on my three to-do lists. It was painful at first, this Stopping.  Jumping off the merry-go-round is so much harder when it’s moving fast. But I didn’t think it would be wise to break a promise with That Voice. So, uncomfortable as it was, I surrendered and wrapped my white flag around me like a rabbit-fur cape. I slept in; went back to bed after breakfast with dark chocolate and a novel; took hot baths; didn’t do (much)yoga; and didn’t get my heart rate up for all of April and well into May.  This all was made easier by the unseasonably wet, cold spring in Colorado, and the fact that my man was gone, studying black tail deer in Oregon. I won’t lie, other voices tried to sneak in. Little devils that poked with their pitchforks: You Lazy Fuck.  Looks like depression to me. Lard ass. “Sorry boys, you got it all wrong,” I said with a sultry smile and a wink, just like Marilyn.  I pulled my faux-fur throw  tighter around me on the couch. “This, is a Sexy Pause. And  now it’s time to hit Play. Sexy prod: It was amazing really, to experience so profoundly this scarce commodity called Rest.  How about you?  Have you treated yourself to a Sexy Pause lately? Do it. And then tell me every sexy detail in the comments.    ...

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Ultimately Sexy

Posted by on Aug 22, 2013

Last week I blogged about Esalen and surrendering fully to the sensuality of a place. That wasn’t the first time I’ve done that. In my blogmesexy opinion, Esalen and Breighton Bush are two of the most sensuous places in the States. They have amazing old-growth forests and meditation rooms that are so exquisite that even my restless thoughts want to stay. But I think what launches the sensuality factor off the charts is that they both have outdoor hot springs where bathing suits are optional. Everyone tends to opt out which has the fascinating effect of de-sexualizing nudity. I LOVE this. I love how it encourages me to steep deeply in the awareness that my body is a gift to be cherished and how the cultural norm of comparing it to unachievable standards starts to melt away. I love the relaxation and confidence that results and how comfortable I feel in my own skin. I love the openness it brings to these communities, the trust it fosters, so when we are all dressed and gathered to dine, there’s this sacred intimacy that allows us to share deeply over our organic greens and quinoa. And all of that, to me, is ultimately sexy. Sexy Prod:  Tell me about your clothing optional...

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Sexy Shut Eye

Posted by on Jul 19, 2013

What’s your sexiest season? I’m winter sexy. I get off on skiing waist deep powder;soaking in hot springs; doing yoga in the early morning dark; and wrapping myself around a steaming mug of lemon ginger tea. Summer sexy, with my allergies and freckled, sun-sensitive skin, takes a little more effort. So in the heat of the day, I strip off my sweaty clothes, turn on the fan, curl up with my bad boy and take a sexy siesta. This is particularly helpful if I’ve experienced sexy insomnia the night before. It’s a round about way of getting enough sleep and according to a recent New York Times article, this isn’t a bad approach.  In his article entitled “Rethinking Sleep” writer David K. Randal writes: “Rather than helping us get more rest, the tyranny of the eight-hour block reinforces a narrow conception of sleep and how we should approach it.” He continues, further supporting my sexy siesta/sexy insomnia strategy: “It seemed that, given a chance to be free of modern life, the body would naturally settle into a split sleep schedule. Subjects grew to experiencing nighttime in a new way. Once they broke their conception of what form sleep should come in, they looked forward to the time in the middle of the night as a chance for deep thinking of all kinds, whether in the form of self-reflection, getting a jump on the next day or amorous activity.” Amorous activity.  I love that. I know my man never minds waking in the middle of the night to my torso- descending kisses. It just means we may need to crawl into the loft mid-day and take a nap. See how this works? Sexy Prods: Are you winter sexy or summer sexy? Spring or fall? Do you have a sexy relationship with sleep these days? Tell me about it. If not, be sure and read Randal’s article. P.S. I’m going to a workshop at a super sensuous place next week.  No internet or cell coverage. See you in...

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On One Hand

Posted by on Jun 29, 2013

I’m speeding on I-25 towards the Denver airport with tears streaming down my face. I can’t even begin to name these emotions.  All I know is that they are intense and beautiful, like the song on the radio that is triggering them.  They flow down my cheeks, my neck, my cleavage and since I am wearing a tank top and traveling bra-less, they trickle onward.  I release a sound that is half laugh/ half sob when they finally stop in a cool pool at my navel. This is only the second time I’ve ever heard this song. The first time was around a camp fire on the Grand Canyon about a month ago, the last night of a twenty-four day river trip that was challenging for reasons I don’t even understand yet. Irish, one of our oarsmen, picked up his guitar like he had most nights and started singing. The same damned thing happened then that is happening now: uncontrollable tears started gushing.  I was able to keep them to myself in the canyon because it was dark and cold and I tucked my face into my down jacket like a turtle . I reach down now, turn up the volume and although it’s probably not the wisest thing to do, I push my foot heavier on the accelerator and slide into the fast lane at 80 mph. These lyrics and the voice singing them are finishing the job they started on the river.  Something is ripping loose, and since I am alone, I surrender fully, not hiding it, not stuffing it, not stuffing it, not stuffing it.  I can count on one hand the men whose voices could bring me to a place so emotionally pure, raw and transcendent. My husband.  My father.  My brother. Irish, of course. And Edie Vedder.            ...

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Sexy Pill

Posted by on May 29, 2013

My sister forwarded me an article from the New York Times Magazine. (Keep those sexy forwards coming to The article is about the quest for a drug that will stoke sexual desire in women.  A “female Viagra”. Drug companies are currently running trials on these drugs, one of which is called Lybrido. In the article they refer to a lack of lust in women with an appropriately unsexy name: hypo-active sexual desire disorder or H.S.D.D. for short. It’s an eight-page article stuffed with great information. These three paragraphs grabbed my attention: “For a sizable segment of the undesiring, the most common antidepressants, the selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (S.S.R.I’s) , can be the culprit. Millions of American women are on S.S.R.I.’s, and many of them would have good use for a pill to revive the libido that has been chemically dulled as a side effect of the pill they take to buoy their mood.” “But for many women, the cause of their sexual malaise appears to be monogamy itself. It is women much more than men who have H.S.D.D., who don’t feel heat for their steady partners.” “Lesbian couples seem to fare no better, and maybe worse, in keeping their sexual ardor for each other. The term “lesbian bed death,” coined by the University of Washington sociologist Pepper Schwartz in the ‘80s, has been critiqued as overstatement but not quite as fiction.” I guess researchers have been hot on the trail of a female desire drug since the 80’s when Viagra showed just how much money can be made from sexy pharmaceuticals. Have they never heard of tequila? But seriously, this is an important topic and one that deserves much greater inspection than I can cover in a single blog post. We can’t keep throwing pills at something as sacred as female sexuality. I plan to take a deeper look at topics like erotic empowerment and sustainable sensuality in future posts. But until then…margaritas, Zumba, Nia, yoga, hot springs, meditation and of course, reading and writing erotica keep my sexy fires burning. How about you?  What stokes your sexual desire? Sexy link:  Click here for the full New York Times...

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