Dear Aunt Becky,
We all know that men have different sex drives than women. Fine. Ok.
Is there such thing as a female sex drive peak? I heard that dudes get to a peak in their early-to-mid twenties, whereas women rock it in their later twenties and into the thirties. Is any of this true?
I hope so, because my vajayjay has been a bit sad since the post-partum belly smiled down upon it.
I remember, Gentle Reader, hearing the same thing years ago and being fairly certain that I would probably have to either invest in a cadre of electric boyfriends or take a much younger lover.
Turns out, the whole sexual peak is referring to sex hormones. During the late teen years, testosterone is at it’s highest in men and with females, estrogen is at it’s highest around age thirty.
But, as with anything else, individual results may vary.
I’ve been trying to remind myself, just because something is “supposed to be” doesn’t mean it is. I was “supposed to” breastfeed away the 60 pounds I put on with my kids, and somehow, that just didn’t happen.
My own libido is tied directly into my self-esteem so if I’m feeling like Shamu’s land-dwelling cousin, Aunt Becky, you’re fucking skippy I’m not exactly jumping into the sack like a blubbery tiger. I know if I have a baby hanging from my boobie 23 hours of the day, I’m not feeling like a roving sex goddess either.
I’m betting that’s all you need: a little tweaking of the mind or the situation and you’ll be all about The Sex.
Dear Aunt Becky,
My 10 month old is at this very moment trying to cut six teeth. Six. At once. It’s really awful for all of us, but at least he won’t remember the experience. Ouch.
But all of these teeth coming IN reminded me that eventually they have to fall OUT and if I recall my own childhood changing-of-the-teeth it’s a far less painful but considerably more GROSS process.
How exactly does one prepare to meet that first proudly displayed loose tooth being waggled back and forth and back and forth and…ugh, yeah, without puking? And the potential blood? And then the squishy gaping HOLE that will be, again, proudly displayed? The tooth that won’t come out and needs parental assistance?
Since it’s already been agreed that I will be the one talking about the sex it’s totally okay if I make the Husband deal with the ICKY ICKY teeth, right?
I’d rather have to explain anal sex than have to pull a tooth, srsly.
Anal sex is pretty easy to explain, you know, because there’s ASTROGLIDE, which is full of the AWESOME, and I’m guessing your kid probably won’t want to talk much beyond that.
Teeth? I got no issues with. Vomit? FUCK YOU GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME DON’T TOUCH ME DON’T LOOK AT ME DON’T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. But teeth, whatever.
I think that if teeth is your kryptonite (had to look up how to spell that btw), than this is what you need to do: make a pact with your spouse. He/she takes care of Teeth Duty while you take over for something that they cannot handle because that’s the way it works when kids get older and grosser.
The Daver manages most vomit-related things while I, well, cower in the corner in a HazMat suit spraying the air with Lysol and bleach.
You may find that it’s not quite as gross when it’s YOUR kid’s bloody tooth socket. If it is, you can always tell the kid that the Tooth Fairy pays extra if Mommy doesn’t have to deal with any blood, teeth extraction or admiration of the empty space. Kids are suckers for a good deal.
Dearest Aunt Becky—–
Last year I fell into a deep, scary depression in October/November. It was so bad that I dropped out of college. Heeding the advice of my counselor, I didn’t go back for Spring Semester–I continued treatment and eventually got back to a steady plateau. I didn’t start this Fall Semester because my loans caught up with me and I’m trying to dial them down before I go back full-time. Plus, I’m worried that I’ll become depressed again this winter. I’m happy where I’m at right now, though; living on my own and I have a kick-ass job.
My family, however, thinks that I’m never going back to school and that I am now, “Such a waste of potential!” and “Would have been such a great nurse.” I am still going back to school! I am just not willing to get so sick like I was last year, I don’t know how to respond when they talk down to me and say what a waste I am. What I want to say is, “It would have been a waste of potential if I’d killed myself last year!” But I don’t think I should do that? Any suggestions?
Future RN (Just not Today)
Well shit, girl, you’re not a waste of potential and anyone who thinks that is fucking stupid and should get the shit kicked out of them for saying that sort of thing. That’s cruel. Period. And I’m sorry anyone would say that to you. You shouldn’t have to hear that.
Being healthy is a zillion times more important than anything else and you’re smart to wait until you’re ready. Nursing school is fucking brutal and anyone who hasn’t been through it wouldn’t know how bad it really is.
And here’s where I’ll relate to you: my parents (the ones who made fun of me for going to nursing school) still think I’m going to go back to being a nurse. They’re holding out some sort of bizarre hope that I’ll suddenly realize that ‘WHOOPS!! Actually, I LOVED being a nurse!!!!’
Apparently my dad’s Facebook page says that I’m going to “go back to being a nurse soon” or something. It’s weird. Whatever.
Anyway. Obviously, they’re kinda delusional because I’d rather pour molten magma up my asshole than go back to being a hospital nurse. Not. Gonna. Happen.
But how can you deal with this?
Well, if I were you, the next time someone talks to you about being a “wasted potential” I’d probably retort snappily with exactly what you said, “better this than dead!” Or “well, you know what? I’m happy now.” And if that doesn’t shut them down, you really need to sit them down and level with them.
“Look, you can’t talk to me like this anymore. You’re upsetting me and it’s not fair. I am going back to school, but right now this is what I’m doing and I’m happy with it. If you cannot respect this and respect me, then maybe we don’t need to see each other right now.”
I wish you the best of luck and you need to remember that you–YOU–come first.
Nursing school can wait.