Zestra – Satisfaction for Women

 

So, let me ask you something. When was the last time you saw a commercial for Viagra, or Cialis? Are those drug names that you are familiar with? You probably recognize them as sexual enhancement products for men; to help with erectile dysfunction. They’re advertised everywhere: in between nightly news segments, sitcoms, and the Super Bowl.

Now, let me ask you this: When was the last time you saw a similar commercial, or product, for women?

When this question was posed to me, I seriously had to stop and think. When was the last time I had seen anything like that – and did I know of any products by name?

Why do men’s sexual enhancement products get so much play, while women’s get hardly any at all?

Let me introduce you to Zestra – a sexual satisfaction product for women. Zestra contains a blend of botanical oils and extracts to enhance female satisfaction and arousal, and give a little assistant to those of us who need a little help “getting in the mood”. I know I could use a little help, especially when I work all day, then come home to a hyper toddler who has managed to smear yogurt or peanut butter or something in her hair and then I have to sing nine rousing renditions of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” in a row. When applied to the vaginal area 3-5 minutes before sexual activity, Zestra delivers the “Zestra Rush” to put a little oomph into your sex drive.

So why is it that men’s sexual enhancement products are so prevalent, when products for women aren’t? Check your SPAM folder in your inbox – even your junk mail is lousy with “penis cream! Bigger penis! Robot penis! ROCKET PENIS!”. Where’s my rocket vagina? I would also like mine to have lasers, please.  In all (semi) seriousness, it has always seemed like there is a double standard when it comes to men’s sexuality versus women’s. Men are encouraged to be players, while women who like to explore and have fun in bed are considered “easy” or “slutty”. Did you know that ads for Zestra were even rejected to be shown on television? What the hell, advertising?! How is that fair? We want ours, too!

Zestra is clinically proven safe and effective, has no known drug interactions or side effects (unlike Viagra, which can cause like, forever erections), is edible if ingested (though I wouldn’t recommend it because it’s kind of, er, bitter) and is hormone and paraben-free. Because I don’t know about you but parabens + my vagina = do not want. Paraben is a little too close to the word “parasite” for comfort (and yes I know the two things are nowhere NEAR related – I’m weird, stop judging me, I don’t want parabens OR parasites near my nethers).

I have had the chance to review Zestra, and since I’m a lady (….. stop laughing. Okay, seriously. Stop laughing), I will spare you the details but it definitely enhances things. My sex drive has never been incredibly active, and Zestra was definitely able to give me the extra boost that I needed. It created a nice, warm sensation and I definitely understood the “Zestra Rush” that I had read about! I haven’t gotten to use it on a long-term basis yet, but I am looking forward to making it part of our regular sexytimes.

If you’re interested in giving Zestra a chance (and I highly recommend you do!), take advantage of this special offer that Zestra has kindly agreed to provide for you, my readers! I recommend taking advantage of this offer, which gets you Zestra PLUS a bottle of their Glide lubricant – which is very enjoyable.

 

Viagra has had its time in the advertising sun. It’s time the ladies got their turn.

Disclosure: This post is brought to you by Zestra. I was provided a free bottle of Zestra & Glide in exchange for this review. The thoughts and opinions in this post are 100% authentic, and 100% my own.

Let’s Talk About Sex {Toys} Bay-Bee.

 

DISCLAIMER: This post contains sex-related words and an infographic about sex toys. If you are shy, squeamish, or a little reserved in that area, it won’t offend me if you cruise past this post.  If not, come learn about vibrators! Thanks!

My blog is no stranger to – ahem – “adult” content. It has been a while since I’ve posted anything sex-related, though I used to have a regular feature on my blog called “Frisky Friday”.

I’ve got a couple adult-themed posts in the works (including a product review, and hopefully a review of a real-life Fifty Shades of Grey story!), so I thought I’d kick off the posts with a fun little infographic about sex toys from Adam & Eve. I found these facts pretty interesting. I’ve never shied away from toys myself, and have often considered them a fun way to introduce something new into the bedroom. I’ve also been a huge believer that every woman, at some point in her life, NEEDS to own one. Seriously!

Adam and Eve sex toys infographic

By Adameve.com – Scandalous facts you didn’t know about sex toys

Have any thoughts? Did some of these facts surprise you? Do you live in one of the states that use sex toys the most??

Disclosure: This post is supported and brought to you by Adam & Eve – though I really do encourage the use of vibrators! 

The Midnight Crapper

 

So there are a lot of things people warned me about when I was about to become a mom. Some of those things were:

  • How hard breastfeeding is.
  • How you will learn to function on 2 hours of sleep.
  • How you will always worry.
  • To be prepare for your infant to poop/pee/barf on you.
  • How you will never, ever sleep again. Ever.

We’ve made it through my child’s infancy and the first year of toddlerhood. Now that we are well into toddlerhood and Nellie is about to hit her preschooler phase, we’ve been faced with the hardest challenge yet, and that’s potty training. There are some things people (kind of ) warned me about potty training:

  • It will be frustrating.
  • It will be hard.
  • It will make you want to pull your hair out.
  • Your child won’t do it until they are ready.

But do you know what no one told me? Not a single fucking person?

That my child would shit on the floor. Repeatedly. 

For the past week or so my daughter has waited until bedtime, liberated herself of her Pull-Up, and shit on the floor of her bedroom. The first time, she just cried for us. We opened the door to her standing and pointing, yelling, “LOOK, MAMA. LOOK WHAT HAPPEN”.  It was all over her hands, smeared into the carpet, and on the walls. We frantically worked as a team to get everything cleaned up; me taking the shit-covered child and Josh dealing with the clean-up of her bedroom. While standing in the bathroom as I ran the bathtub, she got excited that she got to take a bath and began clapping her hands together while I frantically tried to get her to stop without barfing.

Look what happen in-fucking-deed.

After about a week of that, she began to (kind of) put 2+2 together and realized that her poop goes in the toilet. So instead of squalling for us and pointing at her feces, she decided she would – literally – take matters into her own hands. And by matters, I mean HER SHIT.  She’d scoop it up in her little hands, quietly open the door to her bedroom and sneak out into the hallway to bestow her gift unto the porcelain gods. Then she would come back into the living room and announce, “I put my poop in the potty! …..It on my hands…”

Sunday night’s debacle was particularly trying. It had gone on for over a week, and I’ve walked a thin line between wanting to clearly convey to her that what she’s doing isn’t acceptable without shaming her. I have kept a very neutral tone and face, and have said things like:

  • I’m disappointed that you took your Pull-Up off instead of coming to us and telling us you pooped.
  • I wish you had sat on the potty and pooped.
  • Please do NOT take your Pull-Up off again. Come tell us if you poop.

While inside my head, it’s really more like:

  • MOTHER. FUCKER. AGAIN? REALLY?!
  • IF YOU KEEP CRAPPING ON YOUR FLOOR, YOUR ROOM IS GOING TO SMELL LIKE A ZOO.
  • STOP TOUCHING THINGS. I’M GOING TO VOMIT HERE IT COMES – NOPE, SWALLOWED IT.
  • OH GOD IT’S UNDER YOUR FINGERNAILS DON’T. TOUCH. ME.
  • I’M GOING TO STAPLE THAT PULL-UP TO YOUR ASS.

Her little incidents have only happened at bedtime, so I’ve dubbed her the Midnight Crapper. Josh calls her the Shit Giver. We’re both hoping that this is just a phase and that SOON, she will learn that yes, her poop goes in the potty. Just not the way she has done it.

Poop In the Potty: UR DOING IT WRONG.

Parents: What the eff am I supposed to do to remedy this? Wait it out? Should I be more firm? WHY DOES MY CHILD NOT CARE THAT SHE HAS CRAP ON HER EVERYTHING?

 

Use What You Know: A Business Idea Guide for Moms

During the weekend of BlogHer 2012, I connected with several women on Twitter as we all wallowed in our collective “not at BlogHer” misery. One of those women was Joyce Brewer, an Emmy award-winning TV journalist, mom, and writer of the eBook “Use What You Know: A Business Guide Idea for Moms”. Joyce created and hosts the website MommyTalkShow.com

Joyce’s book answers a question she was getting asked after starting her blog and video business: “How did you come up with your idea?” Her answer was that she relied on her skills as a TV journalist and new mom. The blend of those two things were what inspired her to create MommyTalkShow.com!

If you have ever had the desire to start up your own business, but weren’t sure where to find a great idea for one, you definitely NEED to read this book. It contains the testimonials of several inspiring women (Joyce herself included, of course! Did you know that she actually got to interview Oprah?! As in WINFREY??), and how they successfully built their businesses, giving them the freedom to make their own hours and be their own boss while having a career they loved!

One of my favorite parts about the guide is that it breaks each business success story into categories based on degrees, work experience, and background. For instance, Joyce’s story would appeal to people with a journalism, writing, or English background. Another business story is for women with a background in art, design, photography, etc. For me, it made it easy to find inspiration based on what my interests are. I don’t have a degree in anything, but my passion is with writing so naturally, I related best to Joyce’s business idea and story.

I really enjoyed reading this eBook, because it made me realize that even though I may not have an idea for a business YET, I could very well follow in the footsteps of mom entrepreneurs before me! This book is a great guide for any woman who has the desire to build their own career, but aren’t sure where to start.

So how can you get your hands on a copy of this eBook? Well, you could buy it (it retails for $12) OR you could WIN a copy right here on my blog!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Disclosure: I was supplied a copy of the eBook Use What You Know: A Business Idea Guide for Moms in exchange for hosting a review and giveaway. The thoughts and opinions in this review are 100% authentic, and 100% my own.

 

I Suck at Fashion.

 

So, I suck at fashion. Like, a lot. I have never been good at fashion. I never really cared about fashion before, but I think that becoming a mom has broken my Fashion Give A Fuck. I put so much energy into my job, into my writing, into raising my child, into attempting to give my husband the attention he deserves that at the end of the day when it comes to things like clothes? My Give a Fuck is broken.  I am Give A Fuck-less.

I see women flouncing down the street, looking all cute in their little flowy shirts and adorably flattering and waist-cinching chunky belts, and their cute little strappy sandals or whatever, and oh look! Their toenails are painted like TUXEDOS, or butterflies,  or something just as adorable and Pinterest-inspired. And here I am, meandering down the street wearing a tank top with beads falling off it, a pair of jeans that I’ve worn and washed so many times they don’t really even have a color anymore, dingy flip-flops, peeling nail polish, and my greasy hair haphazardly clipped back just so it’s out of my face. OH and with a toddler-sized pink backpack with butterflies covering it strapped to my back. Honestly, I’m just happy being out of the house and not having to watch Dinosaur Train for the NINETEENTH TIME.

We were taking a family stroll downtown this weekend. I watched other moms frolic about with their families, looking all adorable in their cute activewear, trendy tennis shoes, and flippy pony tails. I caught my reflection in a store window and startled myself. I was wearing a green and black-swirled shirt that was too big, a pair of baggy black capris that have really crossed the length threshold and aren’t really capris, but aren’t really pants either, beat-up shoes (and mismatched socks but you couldn’t see that, because the cuffs were both white. I WIN AT DRESSING MYSELF), and greasy hair. It was like TROLL COMES FROM UNDER BRIDGE TO PLAY. CHECK OUT MY OILY, UNKEMPT HAIR AND CHILD COVERED IN WATERMELON JUICE. MAY WE JOIN YOUR FAMILY IN A GAME OF DISCGOLF?

“I have to go shopping today,” I announced to my husband with a wild look in my eyes.
“O….kay…” he said. “What brought that on?”
“I wear the same five things repeatedly. I look like I’m homeless. Going shopping. Alone. Might be a few hours.”

So I went shopping. I hate clothes shopping, especially now that I’m overweight. I went to Kohl’s first. I entered the fitting room with an armload of items. I rejected each one of them because:

  • They were too small.
  • They clung to my Mom Gut and made it look like a saggy kangaroo pouch.
  • It enhanced the wrong curves on my body – the ones created by my back fat.
  • They made me look too old.
  • They made me look too young.
  • I am a condensed version of a human being, and they made my legs look two inches long.

I began feeling depressed, convinced that there was not a single item of clothing anyone had created, EVER, that flattered my body.

Then I reminded myself that my body was different now than it was before I had a child, and I just needed to invest some time finding clothes that worked for me.
So I did. I took my time, carefully picked out some items and walked out of Kohl’s with a shirt-dress that looked cute. I headed to Target to find shoes, and ended up with another outfit. I never did get shoes, because I still can’t figure out what would go well with a teal shirt-dress. Any suggestions? Here’s the dress, if you’re curious.

I guess what I learned from shopping on Saturday is that I have to accept the fact that I have to invest some time and effort into picking out clothes, and think outside the box a bit. Maybe my Give A Fuck isn’t entirely broken. Maybe it’s just rusty and needs a little oil. And now, thanks to my new shirt-dress, maybe I can go play with the fancy downtown folk on Saturday afternoons. My kid will probably still be covered in watermelon, though.

 

My Famous Vagina

So I had a little discussion with some blogging friends of mine not too long ago. They’ve been a source of inspiration for me lately – go figure. Creative women + a little beer = blogging gold. We had a discussion about “famous encounters and connections” recently, and one of mine elicitied a “OMFG BLOG ABOUT THIS. NOW.” reaction so like a good little blogger, I obliged.

Thanks for the suggestion, Suzanne!

SO. My claims to fame. Most of them are nothing fancy or special. Like, most of them are actually secondhand. For example:

  • My dad was Vanessa Redgrave’s chauffer for a summer when he was like, twelve. Did you also know that back in the middle ages – when my dad was young – they gave driver licenses to twelve year olds? Did you also know that in the middle ages they had vehicles, and also Vanessa Redgrave? Now you know. (SIDE NOTE: it’s totally fine if you don’t know who Vanessa Redgrave is. Click here for more information)
  • My grandma was Natalie Wood’s secretary.
  • She was also a contestant on the Price is Right. The awesome Price is Right with Bob Barker – not the imposter Price is Right with Drew fucking Carey. She won everything. Like, the whole show. She won a dune buggy, and a grandfather clock, and some other useless shit that I’m sure she sold for money. I don’t really know – it was before I was born.
  • My mother claimed that she slept with Chuck Norris, BUT, my mother also once claimed that a raccoon bit her on the leg and she yelled at it to make it go away, SO THERE’S THAT.

I digress. Back to my famous encounters and connections. I don’t have many, but I do have these:

  • I once saw Paul Shaffer in an airport in Florida. I was on a band/choir trip, and a bunch of the band dudes were geeking out. They were all “ZOMG PAUL SHAFFER” and I was like “Hurr?” So they all swarmed him at a magazine stand or something, and I stood there pretending like I knew what was going on. He was a dick. (Don’t know who he is? It’s ok, I didn’t either.
  • I have seen Ricky Martin in concert. TWICE. IT COUNTS. Right?

That’s about it, except I am forgetting my number one claim to fame. It’s going to blow your damn mind. Are you ready?

When 16 and Pregnant made its debut, I was bound and determined to catch the first episode, for two reasons. One, because I, too, was pregnant (though not 16. Irrelevant.) AND the first girl was from Chattanooga. I watched as Maci navigated her way through the complicated waters of teen pregnancy, fought with her babydaddy, ate at Rain (a local Thai “bistro”.. what a fucking pretentious word, by the way. BISTRO.  You’re a damn restaurant. STOP IT.) and rode four-wheelers while like, nine hundred weeks pregnant.

Anyway I was sitting there, watching, when she had a doctor visit. She was lying there, all pregnant and waiting for her doctor and I thought, “That waiting room looks awfully familiar”. Then her doctor came in, and spoke to her (but the camera still didn’t show her face) and I thought, “That doctor sounds awfully familiar”.

Then the camera panned to the doctor’s face, and I realized:

MACI’S VAGINA DOCTOR WAS ALSO MY VAGINA DOCTOR. DO YOU REALIZE WHAT THIS MEANS?

What this means, my friends, is that Maci’s vagina doctor has looked at her vagina – because she’s a vagina doctor – AND HAS ALSO LOOKED AT MY VAGINA. What does this make my vagina?

PRACTICALLY. FAMOUS. Maci’s vagina and my vagina are pretty much like, BFFs. We should probably go get them vajazzled together or something. Is vajazzling still a thing? I don’t know, when you have a kid you lose touch with pretty much everything that’s cool. AM I RIGHT? Yes. Yes I am.

So anyway, Maci has gone on to be part of the popular show Teen Mom, and I’m left wondering… What about me and my (almost) famous vagina, Maci? What about it? Remember that time we went to the same crotch doc? Remember when we were going to go vajazzling?  No? Pff. I see how it is. You get all famous and forget your kindred vagina spirits (here’s another one of mine, by the way).

So that’s the story of my famous vagina. I hope you enjoyed it. By the way, this post was also partially inspired by a quote that I thought was Hemingway, but I just did a little Googling and it’s not. But here’s the quote anyway: “Write drunk, edit sober”.

The end.

 

 

BlogHer Book Club Review: Trust Your Eyes

 

Meet Thomas Kilbride: Reclusive, socially awkward, obsessed with the computer program Whirl360 (think Google Earth), which allows you to virtually tour the streets of any city in the world. Convinced that he is an employee of the C.I.A. and that his “job” entails traveling the world via Whirl360.

Meet Ray Kilbride: Illustrator. Brother to Ray. Returns home to Promise Falls after the death of their father, partly to take care of his father’s affairs and partly to figure out what to do with his brother, who he fears has become so obsessed with his “job” that he cannot live independently.

After Thomas “witnesses” what he believes is a murder while virtually roaming the streets of New York City, the Kilbride brothers find themselves thrown head-first into a terrifying series of events. Conspiracy, murder, missing persons and kidnapping become their reality and together, they must quickly navigate their way through an elaborate maze of twists, turns, and deceit…. before the truth comes knocking on their door.

Trust Your Eyes was the first Linwood Barclay novel I’ve read, and I found myself quickly engrossed in the story of the Kilbride brothers. Trust Your Eyes kept me on the edge of my seat (and couch, and, er, bathtub) the entire time I was reading it. The author introduced several characters who were seemingly unrelated to one another, only bring them crashing together later in the story in an intricate and mysterious plotline that kept me guessing every step of the way. I thought setting the stage for murder and mystery by using modern technology in the way that he did was very clever and intriguing.

Trust Your Eyes will leave you wanting more with every turn of the page – and it comes with a delicious twist at the end that will make you gasp.

DISCLOSURE: I received both monetary compensation and a copy of Trust Your Eyes for this post as part of the BlogHer Book Club. You can read more about this book or join the discussion by visiting the BlogHer Book Club’s discussion of Trust Your Eyes. Though this was a compensated post, I really did enjoy this book. These thoughts and words are 100% authentic, and 100% my own.