I’ve recently entered the phase of life when I feel the sexiest, the most sensual, and am experiencing deeper intimacy with my partner than in the past 24 years together. From an outsider’s perspective, the circumstances surrounding this new embodiment of myself as a proverbial “MILF,” might not make any sense. I’m a 46-year-old mother of three, who presently weighs sixty pounds more than I did before having kids. I no longer own a scale or diet, AT ALL, and I’ve recently entered perimenopause. Less than ten years ago, I was a marathon runner who could easily rock a tight dress sans any “body contouring” products to suck, tuck, and tone my physique. Of course, even back then I thought I needed to lose weight. Extreme restriction was a constant way of life. I wasn’t kind to myself, and I certainly wasn't confident enough during intimacy to let loose in a way that screamed “WORSHIP MY TIGHT-ASS BODY! CHECK OUT MY ABS! TELL ME HOW HOT I AM AFTER BIRTHING YOUR THREE CHILDREN!” While I wish I had done that, instead, I was contorting my body and avoiding certain sexual positions because of how I might look, “from that angle.” It seems like it was all such a waste.
Through all of that time and effort (not to mention the loads of money I spent maintaining my appearance), I never did achieve the level of attention and attraction for which I had hoped. If Adam did think I looked amazing, he certainly did not communicate that clearly enough. So, what was it all for? I could sit here and say it was about health, or “wellness,” or to keep challenging myself to do more, to be better, or to do something that was “just for me.” But those statements are all untrue. The raw truth is that I was on a losing journey trying to mold myself into "worthy." I wanted my husband to notice and appreciate me like one of those characters in a book or movie. You know, when the man has to have her RIGHT FUCKING NOW?! Coincidentally, this was also around the time that I was reading the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. Why couldn’t my husband be more like Christian Grey? Hasn’t he seen how fine my ass looks in these jeans? LEAD ME TO THE RED ROOM, PLEASE!
All the marathons, diets, and tight denim in the world couldn’t get me to feel sexy internally, or in my partnership back then. Adam and I were disconnected. We resented one another. We didn’t know how to communicate. We were way too frustrated to be tossing around compliments or ripping one another’s clothes off. We were having sex, but we were half present. The lights remained off. The vibe was “this is what married couples do, so we should be doing it.” Seldom were there intense signs of pleasure, joy, or passion emanating from our intimate encounters. Inside the bedroom strongly mirrored what we both felt outside the bedroom: tired, unsure of ourselves, and frightened to say what we really needed and wanted. We weren’t intentional in our interactions and affection, because we were too exhausted and confused to make any of it better. I’m not blaming anyone in particular. Neither of us were communicating, and neither was willing to step up and break the silence. In actuality, I guess I’m blaming both of us. But at the time, we just blamed each other.
Fast forward to a different scene in my story; one that occurs after a time in life when I had the privilege of meeting and learning from some of the most inspirational women, and whose unapologetically brazen style, aura, and choices have impacted me deeply. In this more current scene, I have worked hard to embrace my changing body, and have fallen in love with the womanliness of my curves and softness. I indulge myself in the joys of life, rather than restricting. I savor the rich flavors of my favorite foods. I walk leisurely through the park with my dogs, letting them guide me wherever they want to sniff next. There is no finish line. There is no goal weight. There is no waiting for this phase to end for the next phase to be better. Every moment is the right time. Being alive is the right time: to eat the food, drink the drinks, free myself from the hellish confinement of shapewear (WTF - it’s just a 21st century corset!) and stroll instead of run.
Most significantly, though, is how comfortably I now manifest to Adam what I need. Whether it’s to step up and help me with domestic responsibilities, detailed communication and affirmations in and out of the bedroom, and consistent checking-in to address issues and stresses in our marriage. Adam no longer has a wife who shrinks herself in hopes of feeling "worthy." He has a wife who takes up space and conveys when she’s dissatisfied, frustrated, or unfulfilled. And guess what? His wife feels sexy, has a higher libido than ever, and is no longer completely distracted, worrying constantly about her body during intimacy. The best part? He is loving every inch of this bigger, more confident, assertive, badass version. In fact, for the first time in almost 25 years, he has even told me that, “not having your body for too long makes me feel like I’m going through withdrawal.” Messages on cards say, “I love your amazing body.” He never needed the smaller, tighter version of me. He needs the version of me that’s more liberated, more fun, and able to enjoy the moments. He wants the wife who says what she needs, and shows him that she wants to savor time being together, instead of running for miles, waiting to become the version of herself she thought he would want.
I’ve always heard “MILF” and immediately associated it with the women I would see at the gym in their tiny tops and full face of makeup. Or, at school drop off, looking totally put together in a way that I never could no matter how hard I tried. Those were the only kind of women who were worthy of that title, or so I thought. The hilarious thing is that, by society’s standards, there was a time when I was the epitome of what a “MILF” should look and be like. Yet, when I actually now feel like a “mother I’d like to fuck,” I don’t fit the stereotypical aesthetic. Because, “sexy,” “hot,” and “sensual” aren't a look, or a size, or a shape at all. They're a lifestyle, a mindset, and a whole fucking vibe that does not need to have anything to do with whether we go to the gym or how tight our ass is. I am a mother-fucking MILF. I am a mother-fucking vibe. And my husband so gets that! I have learned how to ask for what I want. What could be hotter than that? I’m also way more fun to be with, choosing to indulge and enjoy the moments when Adam and I are together, rather than curating life around reaching an arbitrary “goal weight” or referring to our date night as my chance for a “cheat meal.” I have energy to be passionate with my husband because he knows what I need outside of the bedroom so I’m able to be fully present inside the bedroom. None of this has come easily. It is still a work in progress, and while our communication has come a long way, there are still a lot of improvements to be made. In the meantime, despite it being far from perfect, I am, in many ways, literally having my cake and getting to eat it, too. And every bite of that along the way, is absolutely fucking delicious.
Don't forget to check out Danielle's solo podcast episodes, "Is She....Letting Herself Go?!" and "Letting My Freak Flag Fly," to hear more about her journey towards body liberation and embracing her inner MILF!