Sexy men

Hollywood and the media have lists of
"The Sexiest Men"
in Hollywood,
in the US,
in the world.
And they make these lists
and promote the idea
that in order to be sexy,
one has to be famous
with chiseled looks
and washboard abs.
Now those are nice to look at,
don't get me wrong,
but I have a different definition
of sexy.
What is sexy?
Sexy is a man who will
cook me dinner
or take me out to eat
not because it's a special occasion,
but because I worked all day
am just too tired to think about cooking
or because it's Wednesday.
Sexy is a man who will
do a load of laundry
(and even fold them!).
Sexy is a man who will
clean the kitchen
without being asked
or nagged
or begged.
Sexy is a man who will
do minor repairs around the house,
bail me out of trouble,
help those in need.
Sexy is a man who will
let me have a girls' night out
without complaining
or trying to guilt me out of it.
Sexy is a man who will
watch the kids while I am
at work,
working late,
or out with my friends.
Sexy is a man who will
stay home
with a sick kid
so I can go to work
on a day I just can't miss.
Sexy is a man who will
encourage me,
believe in me,
and help me achieve my goals
or do my very best.
Sexy is a man who will
get my warped sense of humor,
hold my hand,
dry my tears,
hug me,
kiss me,
sex me up,
and love me always
even though
I am not perfect
or even nice all the time.
I want to see recognition that this man is sexier
than the Hollywood stereotype.
This man is the one who holds my heart,
and that makes him even sexier.

Lara's heartbreak

Lara was so excited to find out she was expecting.
A baby!
It was great news,
but Lara had problems.
And since it was her first pregnancy,
she didn't know what to look for.
And so her baby came two months early.
Two months too early.
And he was tiny.
Three pounds.
Three pounds of baby
is less than a
sack of flour,
a dumbell,
a heavy textbook,
a pair of steel-toed boots,
or what she really wanted-
a healthy baby.
And he was so, so teeny.
And he began to have problems.
Little man was in the hospital
for the first four months of his life.
For four months,
he stayed in the hospital.
For Lara,
it may as well have been
forever.
He couldn't put on weight.
He kept aspirating on bottles.
Problem after problem.
And then,
he finally got to go home!
For a little while.
He kept having to go back to the hospital
and stay for a week or two
at a time.
Lara missed so much work.
And her baby kept crying
and crying
and crying.
He was in pain
and so back to the hospital
they would go
to test him and find out what was wrong.
They still don't know.
He still goes back to the hospital.
And he has spent more time in the hospital
than out of it.And now, Lara's baby
is developmentally behind
other children his age.
He is legally blind
and cannot hold up his head
even though he is a year old.
He cannot crawl,
or sit up,
or walk,
or talk.
Lara is not sure if he ever will be able to do these things.
He is a miracle because he survived.
Lara loves him,
but spends every moment worrying about him.
He has aged her because
she worries,
worries,
worries.
And I worry
about Lara
and how's she's feeling,
handling the situation,
and if she's doing okay.
But Lara has closed herself
off from the world.
And all she says now is that
she's okay,
her baby's okay,
things are okay.
But okay is not great,
or even good.
And I worry about Lara
and her little one.
And I want to know-
what can I do to help?
And the answer is. . . .?

I Could Kick Your Ass*

I could kick your ass*
unless you actually have muscles
or strength
or some other such nonsense.
Basically, what I am saying is that
I could kick your ass
if you were an
anemic,
anorexic,
undersized,
and
weak.
Damn.
Back when I was
younger,
stronger,
tougher-
then I probably could have kicked your ass.
Probably.
Well, at least I think so.
Maybe.
I think.
I felt pretty confident when
I took kickboxing classes.
I was a lean, mean,
fighting machine.
And now,
now life has gotten in the way.
I've got
work,
kids,
a second job because the first one doesn't pay enough,
responsibilities,
chores,
and excuses.
Oh, I've got a ton of those.
I'm too tired.
I'm too busy.
I'm too broke.
What I really need,
is to get off my ass
and get it back into shape,
so I can work on
kicking
your
ass
again.