Judy Blume…Not for little kids anymore.

I just finished reading a kick-ass book I want to recommend to all women.

‘Wifey” by Judy Blume.

I know everyone remembers Judy Blume, the same chic who wrote all those books we read and loved in grade school (Blubber, Superfudge) and Jr. High (Are you there God? It’s me, Margaret and Forever). I remember my mom making me read ‘Are you there God? It’s me, Margaret’ right after I got my period. It was a wonderful book that I hope I can read to a daughter of my own someday. No time too soon mind you…

Anyway, ‘Wifey’ is about a woman who is no longer happy in her marriage. She is bored with her sex life and tired of her control freak husband. (An insane husband who tells her she should brown the chicken before baking it to make it look more appetizing.) I know, I know, it sounds all sad and depressing but in reality it’s very humorous.

The book starts off with Wifey waking up to the sound of a motorcycle, she looks out the window to see a man standing in her lawn, naked and masturbating. The story just gets better from there...Without giving anything too important away, just incase someone actually wants to read it…here’s a small part (my favorite part) from the book.

Background: Wifey gets a rash ‘down there’ every time she has sex with her husband, she’s at her gynecologist’s (/brother-in-law’s) office getting it checked out. She is contemplating what she will say to her doctor/brother-in-law when he asks about her sex life…

“My sex life? Oh, you mean my sex life. Yes. Well. Let’s see. Ummm, if you want to judge it strictly on the basis of orgasms it’s fine. Terrific. That is, I masturbate like crazy, Gordon. You wouldn’t believe how I masturbate. God, I’m always at it. Driving here, for instance, this morning…driving, get that, in traffic, no less…no, not the Cadillac, Norm took that to work. The Buick…driving the Buick, I hear this song on the radio…from my youth, Gordy…like when I was seventeen or something…Blue velvet, bluer than velvet was the night…it reminds me of Shep…and I get this feeling in my cunt…this really hot feeling… and just a little rubbing with one hand…just a little tickle, tickle on the outside of my clothes…just one-two-three and that’s enough…I’m coming and I don’t even want to come yet because it feels so good…I want it to last. And guess what, Gordy? I never itch after I come that way. I itch only after Norm. So, you see, it must have something to do with him. Maybe I am allergic to his semen…maybe I’m allergic to his cock…maybe I’m allergic to him! Wouldn’t that be something?

Oh, you’d rather hear about my sex life with Norman? Yes. Of course. I understand, gordy. Bearing on the case. Certainly. Well. Every Saturday night, rain or shine, unless I have my period. Variety? You mean like in the books? Well, no…Norm isn’t one for variety. Changes make him uncomfortable. And I’m not one for making suggestions, Gordy. You tink I should? I don’t know…I’d have to think about that…maybe…
Oral sex? Oh, Gordy…now you’re getting so personal. Must we? I mean, really. Well, of course I see that it’s part of my sex life. Yes, certainly we’ve tried…but the one time Norm put his face between my legs…well, poor Norm…he gagged and coughed and spent half an hour in the bathroom gargling with Listerine afterward and I felt terribly guilty. He was like a cat with a hairball. All that suffering just to please me. And then there’s the problem of smeill…odor, you know… Norman hates the smell of fuck. He always complains the morning after, opens all the windows in the bedroom and sprays Lysol. That’s why I douche with vinegar…cunt vinaigrette…to make it more appetizing…you know, like browned chicken.”