I don't do sexy
There is something about being a mother of three that makes you feel decidedly unsexy. Whether it is the breastfeeding, wiping arse's that aren't your own, or basically having your whole life ruled by three people who can't even ring a reasonably placed doorbell without help, once you have let your womb out for rent it is like you signed away your sexy with the tenancy agreement.
It's not like I don't want to be glamorous and alluring, but I have a new perception of the connotations of those words. Glamorous now means being in clothes that are snot-and-puke-free and alluring is something I think I become following a bottle of wine. The reality is a half cut woman badly dressed wearing puke and snot free clothes.
Recently I attempted to 'relight' the fire. I went all out! I dressed myself in black cotton knickers; they were the last pair in the drawer and had a slight hole. I pulled gently at the hole, took a slug of wine and called them crotch less. I pulled out a similar coloured bra, lit some candles, popped on a bit of Eva Cassidy and laid in a seductive pose on top of the covers.
Some thirty minutes later my other half came in search of me, finding me draped on the bed, wine glass in hand, sexily strewn amongst the pillows he sighed deeply and licked his lips.
I could see desire in his eyes, a desperate urge to consume me, to take me completely.
He marched across the room, yanked open the curtains, the impact of which blew out the candles.
"You can't lie around getting pissed all day," he stated irritably, "clearly washing needs to be done as you are in your emergency pants again, c'mon woman get up and turn that drivel off."
As I said... I don't do sexy!