I'm no Heidi Klum, but I'm trying my best.
I really appreciated Mayim’s most recent piece on Judaic sexy time. Even though I already knew most of what was in her post, it reminded me of how amazing a woman’s body is and how celebrated sexual relations are in Judaism. Trust me, my Jewish husband celebrates any time we have sex.
And herein lies the struggle. Why does it happen more than I’d like and less than he’d like? We have a child, we’re busy, and we’re tired. My body is a squishy version of its former self and my boobies still belong to the toddler sleeping in the next room.
Meanwhile, hubs is sexy and never stopped being hot for me even after watching a human being expelled from his happy place. This guy works his ass off, changes diapers, tells me I’m beautiful, and deserves a win now and then. If he were to reject me even once I’d be slicing my wrists with insecurity, yet he comes back time and again in hopes of a kiss–okay, with tongue.
In my experience, having sex is like going to the gym in that even when I have to drag myself there kicking and screaming, I feel so good and I’m always glad I went. So why do I keep a monthly tally of our encounters in my mind to use as ammunition when I’m tired?
Much like Mayim’s post inferred, I used to think that Orthodox women were oppressed by obligatory sex. I pictured them dreading of the day they were “clean” because they were going to have to put out, like it or not. But I can also see how the mikvah could be an empowering prelude to getting down and dirty. So much preparation, anticipation, perhaps, even butterflies, all leading up to a familiar connection that you’re contracted to uphold. Plus there’s the added bonus, YOU’RE CLEAN (Moms know, we never have time to shower.) Read the rest of this entry →