Bull. Shit.

All he wants for Christmas is you… In a red velvet teddy with white maribu trim, thigh highs, and stilettos. He wants to see your ass framed by two garter straps. He wants to see your tits pushed up to your throat. He wants to see that hint of lacy material at the top of your ass and follow its disappearing act. THAT’S what he really wants for Christmas.

We know that men are visual creatures. We also know that the best way to get the things WE want is to give them a little of what THEY want. And try as you may to convince yourself that the lame, same boring ass sex you’re having is enough to satisfy him… you’re wrong. Sorry ‘bout your luck, honey.

There’s a damn good reason he moved out of his mama’s house the day he turned 18. He was being fed, clothed, and housed – yet he willingly (enthusiastically) gave it up. Why? Because Mama’s meatloaf met his basic needs, but it didn’t satisfy him. She made that shit every Thursday night for 18 years. And he ate it. Because he was hungry. But you bet your sweet ass he’d have inhaled a double cheeseburger with special sauce, given the chance.

You, my dear, were that cheeseburger. He left his mama’s meatloaf for you. But if you’re now serving up the same shit every Wednesday night, guess what? You’re no better than that mushed up concoction of shit she tossed in the oven on Thursdays. You need to throw a little Louisana hot sauce on that pussy and spice it up a little!

Buy yourself something hot. Maybe a red corset with a matching thong. Maybe a flirty little babydoll nightie. Whatever makes YOU feel sexy. (And heels… the taller the better. Logic here: If you’re 5’6”/140, and you slip on 4” heels, you’re instantly 5”10”/140.) Call his mama and tell her the kids are coming over tonight. (They can eat that meatloaf.) When he comes home and finds you standing at the stove wearing something hot, there’s ‘bout to be a house fire. Guaranteed.

You think I’m kidding? Try it. See what happens. I’d bet my last drop of Chanel you get devoured like a Thanksgiving turkey at a homeless shelter. I don’t care how long you’ve been together, how long you’ve been married, or how mundane your sex life has become. We all have a little sex kitten inside and she’s dying to roar like the lioness she longs to be!

Get sexy! Be sexy! OWN sexy!

And give Gramps that cordless drill… your man won’t be needing it.