Guilty Pleasure


What’s your quilty pleasure?

When I was 17 years old I met what I thought to be an amazing man. He wasn’t but boy did I fall hard and fast for him. He was in the Navy (it was the dress whites) and I was in high school. It was doomed from the get go. It was the most humiliating and degrading relationship of my entire life.

We lived in Connecticut. He got orders to leave around Valentine’s Day for a new duty station in California. I didn’t know where those orders left me but I knew that when he left we were pretty much over. My mom told him that. He proposed before he left and I accepted. I guess we weren’t over yet. I was young and dumb.

We were married one month after I graduated high school. Two months after our wedding I was living in California with him. I had no family or friends anywhere near me. (That changed quickly, I made two of the best friends a girl could ask for) My ex husband was in and out of port all the time. I had no idea being a Navy Wife meant being alone. I was willing to spend the majority of my life alone and away from family if it meant I got to be married to him. I thought he was amazing so it was devastating when it all slowly came out that he wasn’t. He was addicted to pornography.

I remember the first incident like it was yesterday. My ex husband was out to sea. I went to check the mail and received my first cell phone bill since I moved out there. My ex would have duty days where he had to be ON the ship for 24 hours and I would give him my cell phone so he could call me in privacy instead of using the ships phone. When I opened my cell phone bill it was over $700. This was before Smart Phones; when cell phone bills were easily $29.99 a month. He had called 900 numbers and charged them to the phone bill. I was devastated because if he wanted to talk dirty to someone he could have called me. Oh wait, he did call me. He would call me and tell me goodnight and then 2 minutes later he would call the 900 numbers. What was wrong with me that he couldn’t turn to me for that? I cried for days. I was so hurt.

The phone bill was just the first of what turned out to be two years of a non-stop Pornography addiction. Thousands of dollars spent on it. I hated porn. It was ruining my marriage. It ruined me. I hated everything about it. Why couldn’t I be like one of them girls? Why couldn’t my ex-husband turn to me instead of them? What could a phone call to them do for him that I couldn’t? I became very depressed. I had friends to talk about it with but it was never enough. No one knew full heartedly what I had to live with on a daily basis. I took it out on myself; I hated myself. I wanted to be someone I wasn’t, I wanted to be loved and needed. How could someone who vowed to love me and promised to forsake all others, do this?

After two years of living that kind of life, I was fed up. I kicked him out and I moved on. I hated porn after that. The situation with him gave me a complex that took what felt like forever to come to terms with. It was him. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t porn, it wasn’t the girls, but it was HIM. He had a problem and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t help him. My pain wasn’t enough for him to stop. That’s his problem, not mine. I’m normal, he was the fucked up one.

I didn’t watch porn for over a decade. It made me uncomfortable, made me think of him and made me feel inadequate. It wasn’t until I met Brandon and we were married that I was comfortable enough to even talk about what I had experienced with my ex and the porn industry.

Brandon showed me how men should behave and use porn respectfully and responsibly. He opened my eyes to a side of it that I had never seen. It’s not something that’s dirty or meant to make me feel inadequate. It is a tool we use to break the bedroom silence; a wonderful tool. I don’t just mean Video pornography. I mean the WHOLE SHABANG; games, toys, lotions, oils, pictures, movies, EVERYTHING.

When Brandon and I first became intimate it was an instant spark. There was no awkwardness; we were completely in sync. I had never experienced intimacy like that. What I thought to be amazing at the time has turned out to be some of our least intimate moments.  Over the years we have had some of the most mind-blowing sexual encounters you could think of. A lot of those include Pornography. It helps both of us open up and discuss things. Pornography brings an added sense of enjoyment to an already blissful experience, for both of us.

I don’t want to go too deep into my sex life but this is for sure one guilty pleasure that I think all would enjoy if done properly and tactfully. In my first marriage it was all about him, it was not shared, it was a secret. Brandon and I don’t have secrets like that. If there’s something either of us wants to try, we do it.  We manipulate the situation to where both of us are getting what we need to get out of it, and are comfortable in doing so. Brandon doesn’t NEED porn and I don’t NEED porn but it’s fun to watch it with him. We talk about what they’re doing or not doing and get ourselves in the mood. It’s fun to play racy games and dress raunchy for him.

I feel like I shouldn’t enjoy something that once brought me such pain. It was an inner struggle that I had to deal with in order to move on; now that same inner struggle is one of my favorite past times with my husband. I’m not addicted but I’ll tell ya what, I love watching porn with Brandon; it’s a guilty pleasure of mine.






I’m in denial with a lot of things in my life but the biggest one is weight loss.

I love all things bad for my body. I love tanning, I love eating, I love watching TV, I love drinking, I love smoking, I love chocolate and I love sitting on my butt all day. I hate exercise, I hate being outside, I hate sweating and I hate putting forth an effort on my appearance. I really suck at being a healthy human being.

I have the motivation in me. I’ve lost the weight before but I have always gotten pregnant and gained it back. With my tubes tied now I know that once I lose the weight this time it’s gone. But who the hell wants to spend hours at a gym? Who wants to sweat? Not me. You know what I want to do all damn day; sit on Facebook.

I cancelled my YMCA membership 6 months ago. Brandon got me a treadmill and an Elliptical which aside from a few weight lifting machines is all I really used at the gym anyways. I haven’t really used either yet and probably never will. I’ll never forget the day I cancelled my membership. It was beyond awkward for me. I hate doing things like that, it’s like breaking up with someone face to face.

I walked up to the lady at the front desk. People came in after me and they needed to get their card swiped. So I leaned in close to the lady and said in a loud whisper, “who do I speak with about cancelling my membership?” She looked me up and down. I know what she was thinking. Shit, I was thinking it too. You NEED this membership. I did need it but screw her. I couldn’t afford it and my amazing husband brought me machines home! I had such high hopes.

The YMCA lady really had nerve though. She said, “before you cancel your membership you really need to ask yourself, is this the best thing for me? In a couple of months you may need our services again. Are you sure this is the best decision for you?’ I wanted to scream, “CANCEL MY DAMN MEMBERSHIP!” But I didn’t. I just said, “Yeah I’m good.” I wasn’t good. I needed that membership. I still do.

I had Brandon wheel the treadmill out to the curb. We put a “free” sign on it and someone took it home in a matter of hours. That particular treadmill wasn’t strong enough for my huge hinny. Excuses, excuses. The elliptical squeaks and hops when I use it. Excuses, Excuses. I’ve only used it for 5 minutes. I was scared for my life. I don’t want to die on an elliptical. If I’m dieing, it’s while having sex and eating chocolate. Excuses, Excuses! So I decided I will just cut back on my food intake and whatever I lose I’ll be happy with. I haven’t lost shit. Not one pound in six months.

I would love to continue writing but someone gifted me a bix of chocolate candies and they aren’t going to eat themselves. You see folks, that’s denial at it’s best. Excuses, excuses.

Completely worth it.


Brenny Tips



These are solely MY beliefs. Things I have done and things that work in OUR marriage. Every person and every marriage is different.

Many people comment on how good of a relationship Brandon and I have. Like any good relationship we have had our ups and our downs. We fight, we yell, we get mad and we ignore each other but one thing is always for sure; the love is always there. No matter how much crap that man puts me through, I will always love him and I will always have love for him. He is the father of my children and has given me everything I have ever wanted. He has loved me unconditionally when I didn’t even love myself. No matter what happens between us he will always be the love of my life and he will always be a part of my life. With all that said, I have picked up a few tricks along the way that help me be the best wife I can be.

1. Not everything needs to be called out. If you catch him in a white lie or some kind of shady business; if it’s not that deep just let it be. Guys don’t always call us out on our bullshit and you can’t deny that. We regularly toss a bunch of white lies together and hope they don’t catch on. Depending on how smart he is, he probably already knows the truth. I can see it in Brandon’s eyes when he knows I’m telling a white lie. Sometimes if I’m in too deep with it I let it ride out and avoid eye contact at all cost. If it’s something funny or obviously a lie, we instantly laugh about it. He gets me, I get him. No need to constantly be one upping or calling each other out. Don’t us females get that enough in our peer relationships? Don’t bring it home to your husbands.

2. Don’t let your husband in on your beauty routine. Pluck your eyebrows and your facial hair elsewhere. Don’t even think about applying makeup in front of him. It’s one thing for him to have mental before picture but to watch the transformation is a completely different experience. It took me a while to catch on to this one. It may be one of the harder tasks to follow. I understand everyone’s time is crammed and sometimes housing space or kids don’t allow for much alone time. But you have to try your hardest to do these things alone. He doesn’t need to know you pencil in your eyebrows or have hair on your chinny chin chin. I’m not saying you need to wake up 20 minutes before him and apply makeup. Screw that. Just shut the bathroom door next time you get ready. And trust me, the look on his face when he sees the end product is completely worth the privacy. I like to use the time to get ready on my own also as a break from the kids. A lot of times, the kids reaction to mommy all fixed is just as amazing as Brandon’s. Two birds, one stone.

3. Do NOT pass gas in front of your husband. Brandon and I have lived together for six years now and the only time I have passed gas in front of him is in my sleep. Every one farts, true; so get your hinny up and fart in the bathroom. I’ve always been scared that if I rip ass in front of Brandon, he will start seeing me as one of the boys. I don’t want to be friend zoned again. Took me a decade to get out of the friend zone last time. Besides as long as you never fart in front of him, there will never be a shart in front of him. That’s an epic win in my book.

4. Always make them feel special. Sometimes as women we assume we are the only one who wants to be swept off their feet. We can’t expect to be the only one who’s pampered. Now don’t bring flowers home ALL the time. Men feel special in different ways then we do. You have to find something that your guy likes and play off of that. Brandon enjoys getting flowers but it’s not a realy a manly thing, and I know enjoys other things. I like to bring him home some of his favorites when I go to the store or I write him a note and place it in the car before he goes to work. One time I picked out all the green Dots and gave them to him. Remember the little things they tell you and always take a moment to show them that you remembered that about them. He needs to feel just as special as you want to feel. Men like to keep things simple.

5. Touch him all the time. A constant physical connection with your spouse is amazing. I am not a hugger at all. I don’t like touching or hugging people but Brandon brings that out in me. I can’t get enough of him and to be honest, he can’t take his hands off me either. Whether it’s a 5 minute hug, a quick peck or a swift booty touch; we are constantly grouping each other. It keeps the romance alive. When the kids see it, it shows them how much their mommy and daddy love each other. My kids will never doubt the love we share. They see it and they can feel it.

I want Brandon to always look at me the way he did when we were dating, with that fresh new relationship feeling. I always want to be that girl to him. I know that it’s an awesome feeling to let your hair down, not wear spanx and poop with the door open, but at what point do you lose the femininity that you dangled in front of your mates face while dating? Unless you did it when you were dating, please don’t do it now that you are married. Men always say we change. Don’t let them be right.

Growing old


As I’m fixing my hair something catches my eye on the crown of my head. I lean in closer. Why is that piece of hair standing straight up, and why is it so short? Shit. It’s the gray hair I just plucked 4 days ago. I can’t believe that it’s back already! There once was a time when I would dye my hair just because I wanted a fun new look, usually every 6 months or so. As I stare at that one gray hair I must laugh. I just dyed my hair 3 weeks ago. It needs a touch up already? I’m nowhere near as young as I feel.

When I’m with Brandon and the kids I feel young, wild and free. The kids remind me of my childhood and bring out my inner child. They keep my mind young by thinking quickly and acting fast. Brandon brings out the teen in me. He keeps my heart young and full of love. I need them around me every day or else I worry I may start to feel my age.

My mind and my heart feel so young and yet my body tells a different story. I don’t know why I expected it to keep up with the rest of me considering all the damage I’ve done to it. (Tanning, smoking, drugs, alcohol, junk food and every day normal wear and tear) I haven’t been the least bit kind to it. Why should I expect it to be kind to me in my old age? I may be a little vain. But really, who isn’t?

When I was younger, I wanted to look like a Kardashian. I know right, please shoot younger me. I had the long black hair, and great complexion. It was awesome at the time but lately I can’t help but think how stupid I was. Why a Kardashian? I believe I’m naturally more beautiful than they are. Why black hair instead of my naturally dark brown? Why tanner skin, I already have an olive complexion most women would die for. I don’t know where my head was; it had to be up my butt. I’m over the Kardashian phase now. I just want to be me because I’m awesome.

I want my kids to see me for who I really am. I want my daughter to grow up knowing that she’s beautiful. She doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone. I don’t want my son’s growing up thinking women have to change what they don’t like or them thinking they need to change themselves. I want them to have normal expectations of their future mates, and not photo shopped Play Boy/Girl images.

I just recently finished watching the Showtime series, The Big C. You ever see it? It made me cry, it made me laugh and it made me think. Cathy, the main character, didn’t abuse anything in her life. She always wore sunscreen and was straight edge. Here Cathy is fighting for her life against Cancer and look at me. I have abused everything that can be abused. (except kids) I had so much fun and lived such a wild life. Why should my ending be any better than hers? I know the show’s not real, but it could be. Any one of us could be Cathy.

How does one enjoy so many fun things without a negative impact? I always thought I looked old if my skin was pale. I used to tan every day. I was like tanning mom; my mom even referenced her when talking about me. I know, right? I wasn’t that bad, at least I didn’t think I was. Now I look at my skin when it’s tan and think I look like a brown leather briefcase. Tanning has me very paranoid now. Cathy was diagnosed with melanoma.

I love climbing in the tanning beds. The warmth from the bulbs always makes my back feel good. I love the way it would clear up acne or tan away skin flaws. I enjoy a good-looking tan and I love sunbathing on the beach. I’m just so paranoid about melanoma now!

No one wants to show their age. I am no exception to that. However, I would rather be a hot mess in my 30’s and alive in my 60’s than be cute in my 30’s and dead in my 60’s. Before I had Brandon and the kids I never gave any of this a second thought. But now-a-days growing old is all I can think about.

I can’t wait to be a Grandma. I can’t wait to retire and grow old with Brandon. I can’t wait till his beard is all white. I’m excited to see how my kids turn out. I’m excited to watch them learn life’s lessons the hard way. None of those things ever sounded appealing to me when I was younger. I thought I would fight growing old and by the time I hit 50 I’d kill myself. That’s not even a funny joke anymore. I NEED to be there when my kids are older. I WANT to be there. I want to get senior discounts with Brandon. I NEED TO GIVE MY GRANDKIDS A WEDGIE!

None of these things ever mattered before but now I have a future. The kids give me a reason to want better. Brandon gives me a reason to want more. I really mean it when I say forever never sounded sweeter.

I don’t care about growing old anymore. I’m just excited I get to experience it with my family. Not everyone does, Cathy didn’t.