Friday, August 7, 2009
When I get that feelin,' I want...a handout of approved and non-approved sex positions complete with creepy eyeless people demonstrating how to get it on.
I am a little past the six-week point in my recovery, which means that I can safely resume sexual activity. The good news: I have spent the past six weeks on my back and am pretty much an expert in that category. The bad news: the fact that I have not ventured out of my house except to rendevous with the old men at physio suggests that the odds of me meeting that special someone are not so great. (And, given the fact that I can't shave my legs for another 6 weeks and am covered in rashes, anyone wanting to get it on with me would probably have to wear industrial-strength gloves and hire Mariah Carey's airbrushing team to give me on-the-spot touch-ups).
But luckily, if I did meet someone ready and willing to assume the position, I have a handy guide to Hip Karma Sutra, which I've kindly shared with you in case you want to add some new moves to your repetoire (or just give yourself nightmares from examining the sexy hand-drawn models on the diagrams, who do not have eyes or mouths, but do have ears, '80s hairdos and exaggerated surgical scars). This two-page handout details the ins and outs (ha ha) of how to get your freak on without winding up back in the O.R. (Because that would be awkward: "Uh...honey....You know that reverse-side-saddle-cowgirl move you were rocking awhile back there?...And how I was screaming?....")
Frankly, I'm not sure I want to have any sex that a) cannot involve bending, twisting or lifting and b) seems to require the assistance of dozens of pillows, a hospital-approved flow chart, a protractor to measure the angles and perhaps a degree in kineseology or engineering. I'm surprised this handout didn't come with a CD of Barry Manilow's Greatest Hits, some aromatherapy candles and a half pound of rosepetals, because that's what you'd need to overcome all the awkwardness of having to cross-reference your moves with what's written on a piece of paper. And so, I will look forward to September 23rd, when my hip restrictions will officially be up and I will be ready to unleash my inner slut. **Just kidding mom and dad!** Men of the Lower Mainland (or Champaign-Urbana...wherever the hell I ended up...): mark your calendars.