My body and facebook.

Okay, I admit it. I like my body. There are even days, I love it. After dealing with bouts of bullemia, dating a body builder and spending 2 hours a day in a gym, then marrying a balanced, wonderful man, having three babies and fighting my way back into shape, I am an unpopular minority. Despite the fact that I make my food choices with care and consciousness and workout HARD nearly every day, I joke about being a skinny bitch as if my efforts are designed to hurt people. I am happy to take the jabs about how it isn't fair and how I need to be examined for a tape worm, I know the truth and so does any skinny bitch you see over 40.

That is one of the many reasons I feel an affinity towards gay men. They get the same pressure to be thin. They respect my habits that keep me this size and feel no threat by it as no matter how good I might look, I am no competition in their playgrounds, just window dressing.

I spent one of the most magical days of my life with an ex boss and his partner in Provincetown this summer. Freed from the responsibilities of my family and job for 24 hours, I took a ferry out of Boston, drinking a chardonnay and eating cashews for lunch. I felt completely liberated. When we docked, my friend was there waiting for me, happy, and glowing with love for his partner. It was one of the first perfect days of the summer of 09. Sunny, breezy, coolish still, just perfect.

After a wonderful afternoon of attending a tea dance and having a home made dinner and great conversation, we went out dancing. My beautiful escorts took their shirts off as is standard practice in gay bars at a certain hour, and though I really hadn't planned on it, I was talked into the same. I did a quick inventory of my undergarment, a cute , full coverage, supportive bra from Walmart. With my skinny jeans, I figured it was a look that would work for a fruit fly, or lady bug or whatever the term was for the lucky straight girl. I had a picture or two snapped and ended the night, cozy on the couch, the only girl in the condo complex, and safer than in my own bed in suburbia.

I saw the pictures the next day. There were more pics than just the bra shot, and honestly, my favorite is a shot of the three of us on the roof deck, the sun setting behind us, huge smiles...I can't even think of that shot without smiling and sighing a contented sigh. However, the shot of me in my bra is the best shot of my body ever. I mean, I am just a housewife, (now!), no personal chef or even a gym membership. I got the housewife designation in part, because of my body and facebook. My boss thought the picture should come down. I disagreed. He decided "to go in a different direction." My thoughts, good luck finding someone as up tight as you and your "angels" who funded your one corporate client operation and like Whitney Houston's character said in "Waiting to Exhale", "enjoy the low life while you can." I am enjoying the high life, with my real friends, my so much cooler than you'll ever be husband, and my tight abs. In other words, "bite me."