Let's talk about Sex.

Sexuality. Sexy. Sex.

Main Entry: sex·u·al·i·ty
Pronunciation: "sek-sh&-'wa-l&-tE
Function: noun
: the quality or state of being sexual : a : the condition of having sex b : sexual activity c : expression of sexual receptivity or interest especially when excessive.

expression of sexual receptivity or interest especially when excessive.

I really like that line. Excessive.

I am beginning to wonder if you trade in your sexuality card to the nurse at the hospital when she hands you the baby. It's like this:

Nurse: It's a boy!
New Mom: Alright, here's my sexuality. Take real good care of it.

I mean, really. I used to have that excessiveness that they are talking about. I had that. I'd get all dolled up to go to a concert. I'd get all dolled up for someone. In the end, I got all dolled up for my husband...or rather, my soon-to-be-husband (then). We would go at it like rabbits. In between classes, in between meals, in between breaths; in between the sheets. Multiple times in a day most of the time. Multiple times.

And then, I got pregnant.

Oddly enough, I didn't get pregnant during our multiple phase. I got pregnant when we were supposed to be abstaining from sex for the 90 days leading up to our wedding. The one day we did it made all the difference in the world. What it made was a child. A pooping, crying, vomiting, cutie pie. And there you have it, the exchange with the nurse...my sexuality for my child.

Suddenly, it doesn't feel sexy down there anymore. Breasts are not for fondling, they're for feeding. They ache for Christ's sake. And my vagina? Well, dear husband, forget about it because I just had a writhing 7 pound human emerge from down below.

7 pound human out; no penis in. No safe passage here. There were stitches for cryin' out loud!

That was over a year ago now. Over.

So how do I get this back? How did I get this back? I'm still not sure I have. It goes in spurts, really. I get in the mood long enough to have it pass right before we get down to business. I'm in the mood off and on all day, honey. You're just at work. On the weekends? Forget about it. Those are my off days too! It's sad when feeling sexy becomes work. At the end of the day, the thought of my pillow turns me on more than the thought of hot sex does. I mean, honestly -- hot sex is work.

I so wish I could get those days back. The "dolled up" days. Tight pants. Black belt. Sexy shoes. Tight little shirt. Hair just right...eyeliner thick. My eyelashes batting. Even getting dressed in all this was a turn on. I knew I was hot. Now I just know I'm Mom. And Mom goes a little more like this: Pants that are 3 sizes too big...No belt. Old comfy shoes to chase the toddler in. Shirt that doesn't show too much of my 2 cup sizes bigger cleavage. Hair however...eyeliner - none. Sexy, right? If I could find a way to work my diaper bag like I used to work my fishnets, I'd be golden. I'd really give anything to be that girl again.

By the definition, I do not have any sexuality at all. I suppose that's not true. I am receptive.

I want to go from dirty diapers to dirty talkin'. Take me there. Isn't it in the contract?