Cocoa butter

I always had this fear of stretch marks.  When I was in high school athletics, our genius coaches thought is was a brilliant idea to turn us into little Conan the Barbarians.  They pushed us so hard in the weight room so we would bulk up our muscles.  It's fabulous that for one year of "glory" you sacrifice a lifelong marriage to stretch marks.  So, stretch marks have been my constant nemesis these past 10 years. 

You can image my delight at the possibility of stretch marks creeping across my "equator"and the "hills of North America", not to mention the vast expanse of my enormous "southern plain".  My cousin gave me cocoa butter to help prevent the "mature marks of motherhood".  It has been a great way to moisturize and hopefully will help. There is a downside to this little tub of wonder.

BJ and I have many differences... probably why we are so well matched.  One of the greatest difference between us is his aversion to chocolate.  (I know... it's insane.. who in their right mind does not dream about chocolate at night.)  In case it is not obvious in the name, cocoa butter smells just like it sounds, like chocolate.  So there is nothing more appealing to my husband than me crawling into bed at night, slathered up with cocoa butter like a Christmas turkey.  It's probably as appealing as if he came to bed reeking of sausage and bologna. 

Not only that, but I'm all sticky.  I get my nightgown and the sheets all twisted up on my sticky body at night.  BJ will roll over and get his hand stuck like fly paper to my stomach.  I get out of bed and have all kinds of crazy lint and crumbs stuck to my body (don't ask about the crumbs).  If the beach ball in my stomach was not sexy enough, now I look like an old link brush and smell like last year's Easter Basket.  I'm dead sexy.