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Hot Baths Burn Calories, May Help Fight Diabetes

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A relaxing soak could be doing more for you than you think.

If you were about to force yourself out on a run, stop where you are for a minute because a bath might be just as effective as exercise when it comes to your health.

Dr. Steve Faulkner, a researcher at Loughborough University, says bathing may have similar benefits to exercising, including helping to prevent type 2 diabetes.

He explained to The Conversation that, though a hot bath has always been relaxing, it’s only recently that science has begun to discover how “passive heating” can improve health.

Dr. Faulkner and his team have investigated the effect of a hot bath on blood sugar control and the number of calories burned. The study involved 14 people each enjoying an hour-long soak in a bath run at 104 degrees Fahrenheit, as well as heading out on an hour-long bike ride.

The two tests were designed to raise core body temperature by just 1 degree so the team could measure how many calories were burned in each session.

Though biking did burn more calories, they found that a hot bath used up as many calories as a 30-minute walk.

“The overall blood sugar response to both conditions was similar, but peak blood sugar after eating was about 10% lower when participants took a hot bath compared with when they exercised,” Dr. Faulkner reports.

He also explained that the anti-inflammatory properties of exercise are important for our immune systems and help us fight diseases: “This suggests that repeated passive heating may contribute to reducing chronic inflammation, which is often present with long-term diseases, such as type 2 diabetes.”

So, take off those sneakers — in fact, take off everything and head upstairs.

Source:http://www.cosmopolitan.com

12 Women Tried Using Food as Foreplay and Here’s What Happened

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“I wrapped a Fruit Roll-Up around his member before giving a blow job. They’re tasty, so why not?”

1. “My boyfriend and I were watching TV, and he had a craving for peanut butter. So we got a jar and started eating from it, and some of it fell on my thigh. I was wearing shorts, so instead of just cleaning it off with a napkin, he says, “Stop! Wait!” and licked it off, and it was so intriguing! So we went from the living room to the bedroom, and we started making out. When we were getting ready to have sex, I dipped my finger in the jar, and dragged the peanut butter on both my nipples and a trail down all the way down to my vagina. Slowly, he started to lick everything off! And it was so hot! The tension buildup was incredible, and when he went down to lick up the peanut butter, he ate me out, and it was fucking fantastic! What we liked was that it wasn’t at all messy because peanut butter isn’t as liquefied as chocolate is. It was the start of brand new experiences for the both of us!” —Cristal, 25

2. “One of my first experiences using food in the bedroom was actually ice cream and it turned into some of the best foreplay I’ve ever had. We were naked in bed with a tub of ice cream and we were kissing mid-scoop. He then started taking mouthfuls of ice cream and sucking on my nipples whilst the ice cream melted in his mouth, which felt incredible. He then started to drip ice cream on the area of my stomach just below my navel and began to lick it off. He then moved lower and was using his tongue on my clit. I’ve done this with ice in the past and I’ve found it way too intense, to the point where I don’t enjoy it. But the ice cream wasn’t quite as cold as the ice and so it was the most amazing sensation on my body. My boyfriend then took a big mouthful of ice cream to let his tongue get really cold and went on to stick his tongue inside me, sending tingles all the way up my spine. I had a pretty intense orgasm after that, then decided it was his turn. I alternated between mouthfuls of ice cream (which was pretty much melted at this point) and using my mouth on him — safe to say he came fairly quickly too.” —Georgia, 21

3. “I blindfolded and tied up my boyfriend and made him guess where he was licking the whipped cream off of: my wrist, lips, neck, stomach, nipple, or vagina. Every time he got it wrong, I whipped him, and every time he got it right, I licked him back. The experience was silly but still sexy. It was extremely messy and sticky, but we just hopped in the shower afterward.” —Stacy, 27

4. “My fiancé and I decided to spice things up and bring some chocolate into the bedroom. The plan was that it would be warmed up so we could drizzle it on each other. Since this was our first time doing this, we weren’t sure what type of chocolate to use, so I decided to microwave up some leftover Easter bunny chocolate. Big mistake! I got it way too hot and right when things heated up, literally and in the bedroom, I went to drizzle it over my fiancé’s abs and his sexy smirk went to a horrified scream really fast! I ended up burning him with the chocolate! He had a burn mark that lasted almost a week! Needless to say, now we stick to chilled chocolate syrup or chocolate-covered strawberries if we ever want to try to indulge a little more in bed!” —Christina, 25

5. “I am a woman, and I was in bed with another woman. We peeled a banana, and she stuck it in her vagina, so it was sticking out like a penis. I mimicked fellatio while putting the banana in my mouth, and then slowly ate pieces of it. The act itself was funny, and we had a good laugh about it together. It wasn’t messy at all, and it led into fruity-tasting oral sex.” —Lolela, 26

6. “During high school, my first boyfriend decided to add a little excitement by putting Pop Rocks on his tongue then going down on me. The popping sensation was unpleasant and unsettling. We shelved the Pop Rocks. Candy is meant to be eaten, not put on sensitive vaginas.” —Rebecca, 21

7. “I tried food in the bedroom with honey. It was my ex-boyfriend’s idea to pour a line of honey from his chest down to his crotch. As soon as I licked the honey off his chest, I gagged. It was too sweet for me and it was all sticky. We laughed and washed it off by having shower sex. From then on, the only reason I bring food into the bedroom now is to only watch some Netflix or Hulu.” —Angel, 21

8. “I tried it once with yogurt. My partner dumped it on me and licked it off. It was very messy, and it was all crusty on me and the sheets the next morning. I wouldn’t recommend it because of the mess. I also used Pop Rocks while giving a blow job. It was sticky and awkward … Not sexy at all.” —Lindsay, 35

9. “It was very impromptu; we decided that whipped cream would be a fun way to spice up foreplay. Having been both of our first experiences with food in the bedroom, we sprayed it on some sensual parts of our bodies and then ate it off. It didn’t go exactly as I had imagined it! It was super messy and ended up all over the sheets. It was a great experience for us, however; we both laughed the whole time (some whipped cream got stuck in my belly button and he had to lick it … I’m super ticklish)! I think it helps when you’re comfortable with each other and it brought us closer together as a couple. If anything, it opened us both up to trying new things together. Keep in mind, if you decide to try it, to stay away from anything sticky!” —Hannah, 21

10. “I decided it was a good idea to use a Fruit Roll-Up in the bedroom. I wrapped a Fruit Roll-Up around his member before giving a blow job, leaving the tip exposed and throwing the leftover roll-up away. They’re tasty so why not? It was definitely a little messy being that it gets sticky when mixed with spit, but it didn’t hinder the experience of it all. It was a success and both of us enjoyed it. I probably liked it a little more just because it gave a creative spin on something that can grow routine and mundane after time.” —Kerri, 23

11. “My ex and I actually tried the grapefruit blow job. My ex was actually the one who wanted to do it after I showed him the video; we planned the whole following day around it. Once we started getting into it, when I got to use the grapefruit, we clearly didn’t leave it out of the fridge long enough, because right when I put it on his dick, he shrieked and threw himself against the wall. So pro tip, make sure it is actually room temperature. Once we warmed it up and got going, it was a lot of fun. For me, it tasted delicious and made giving head a lot more enjoyable. He enjoyed it and said it was something he’s never felt before. Since we used this as foreplay, having sex after was a bit tricky as there was grapefruit all over his dick and it was extremely messy. Plus I don’t really want grapefruit juices inside of me and giving me some awful bacterial infection. It is a bit messy to do often but would do it again for special occasions.” —Alex, 20

12. “A few weeks ago, my boyfriend and I thought it would be really hot if I were to stick a Krispy Kreme doughnut on his special area and eat it off. It turned out to be super messy because the icing chipped off everywhere when I was trying to slip in on there, but still it was still delicious. Overall, we would totally do it again.” —Devon, 19

These confessions have been lightly edited for length and clarity.

Source:http://www.cosmopolitan.com/

Here’s How Long an Average Sex Session Really Lasts

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How do your hookups compare?

If you’ve ever wondered how the duration of your hookups compares to how long other people are spending in bed, sex toy company Lovehoney has some stats for you. Its recent survey of 4,400 of its customers found that opposite-sex couples had sex that lasted 19 minutes on average, with 10 of those minutes spent on “foreplay” and nine on penetrative intercourse. While 52% of respondents said they were satisfied with this number of minutes, 19% of women and 23% of men said they wished their sex lasted longer.

What they wanted to last longer — the foreplay, the intercourse, or both — wasn’t addressed, but it’s an important distinction. Where did the idea “the longer a penis is in a vagina, the better” come from? It’s wrong and annoying and sometimes I’m just ready for us to both orgasm already, dammit. Not in a “ugh sex is a drag, dicks are gross, let’s get this over with” way, but there is a limit to how long I want to be having vaginal sex and it’s usually around 10 minutes, give or take. You’re not impressing me with your stamina, dude.

But all of the other kinds of sex that are consistently lumped into the category of “foreplay”? Let’s do more of those, please — I’m thinking more of a 2:1 foreplay-sex ratio than the 1:1 ratio in this survey. Many sex therapists say that foreplay should last closer to 20 minutes (at least!) than 10, since, after all, activities including genital stimulation, deep kissing, and oral sex — the stuff we usually call foreplay — are much likelier to lead to female orgasm than a dick inside a vagina.
Source:http://www.cosmopolitan.com

8 Signs that Sex with Someone Is About to Get Even Better

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Don’t give up on a good thing too soon.

It’s a common scenario: you’re hooking up with someone for the first time or maybe the third, and the sex is *fine* — but it’s not ~great~. You like this person, but aren’t sure if the chemistry (or their sexual skill) merits giving them another shot. While fireworks may not be exploding over your bed as an orchestra swells, there are a few telltale signs that if you stick with it, sex with them is about to get a hell of a lot more fun. Here’s what to watch for.

1. They take their time on foreplay instead of rushing to the main event.

Someone who doesn’t power through (or completely skip) all of the wonderful things you two can do in bed besides vaginal sex — making out, oral, fingering — is onto something. An orgasm for you, for example: research shows that the “golden trio” of “genital stimulation, deep kissing, and oral sex” is exponentially more likely to make you orgasm than a penis thrusting in and out of your vagina. No surprise there. Even if your hookup doesn’t know exactly how to touch you during foreplay (yet), their willingness to explore and spend time turning you on is a very good sign for the future.

2. During sex, they ask questions.

Specifically things like, “How does this feel?” and “What can I do to make you feel good?” If they’re checking in with you during the act and requesting feedback, you have good reason to believe they’re invested in your pleasure and not just getting their own rocks off. Hookups often follow such a predictable script that partners can get away with going through the motions and not really talking at all. If you found someone who won’t skate by on the hookup script, they’ll likely be open to more in-depth conversations about your preferences and desires when your clothes *on*, too.

3. They use your feedback in real time.

“Touch me a little to the left,” you say, and — lo and behold! — they actually touch you a little to the left. Even if they’re not totally nailing your instructions every time, they’re listening to you and really trying. A good student makes a good sex partner if they get the opportunity to study up.

4. They do something you said you liked the last time you hooked up.

Congratulations, you’re not sleeping with a goldfish but rather a human being with functioning longterm memory! If one night you describe exactly how you like to be kissed and then three nights later your partner kisses you that way unprompted, you know they’re paying attention not only in the moment but over time — which bodes very well for an eventually explosive sex life.

5. They don’t take feedback as criticism.

If your partner acts hurt or offended when you offer suggestions in bed, that’s a serious red flag. When their ego is all tied up in their “performance,” they’re not thinking of sex as a shared adventure but as a way to show off their skills. Which is way less fun for everyone. Bad responses to you speaking up in bed: “I can never get it right” (ugh, throw your pity party somewhere else); “No one else has complained about the way I do this” (what does that have to do with me?); Have you always had trouble orgasming?” (excuse me?!?). Good responses: “It’s so sexy when you tell me what you want”; “I love f*cking love turning you on.”

6. They’re not intimidated by sex toys.

If you’ve brought up the idea of trying sex toys with your partner and they’ve been receptive, or if they’ve brought up the idea themselves, it’s an indication that they won’t be shy about trying new things with you. Some people see a partner’s interest in sex toys as a hint that they’re underperforming in bed, but that so doesn’t have to be the case: accessories can make a sexual dynamic more fun and rewarding no matter how good it is to start. And if your new partner is open to some wall-charged fun, imagine what other fantasies you two will share as you get to know each other.

7. They wouldn’t dream of getting oral without offering it in return.

Or, better yet, they ask if they can go down on you before you’ve even gone down on them. So, fine, once they get down there maybe it’s not the BEST ORAL of your ENTIRE LIFE — but their enthusiasm suggests their willingness to practice until it is. Score.

8. They ask you before trying something new instead of just going for it.

It might not seem like a big deal if your partner speaks up before switching positions or touching you in a new way. But if they’re regularly seeking your (enthusiastic) go-ahead, you know that not only is consent important to them, it’s already baked into their approach to sex. Sex for them is about more than getting permission. It’s about making sure you’re both having a great time.

Soure:http://www.cosmopolitan.com/

How I’m Surviving My Threeway Marriage: Me, My Husband, and My Depression

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You don’t get rid of mental illness through communication. You don’t get rid of it at all.

When I was 26 years old, I almost killed myself. It was at once both impulsive and entirely thought out — a decision that, if I’m being honest, had been a long time in the making. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety at 23, right after I got married, but looking back, I can see signs that extend back to my teens. In my mind, killing myself was a tidy solution to a never-ending sadness. It seemed like a way to help Matt, my husband, who was mired in a marriage in which he’d once spent Valentine’s Day trying desperately to help me off the couch and out of an interminable crying jag.

Thanks to some lingering last-minute doubts and a mercifully quick-thinking friend who figured out that I wasn’t OK, I ended up in a psychiatric ward, and I stayed there for a week. I know now that being there saved my life. But while finally getting real help felt beyond relieving, it didn’t quite feel that way for Matt. That’s because, in an attempt to protect him, I’d kept my suicidal thoughts a secret. Until I was hospitalized, he’d had no idea.

THE TRUTH IS THAT YOU DON’T GET RID OF MENTAL ILLNESS AT ALL.

When I left the hospital, still alive and equipped with a new regimen of antidepressants and regular appointments with my therapist, Matt and I decided that our only choice was to start over. We moved to a new house in a new town and practiced saying all the things we’d learned to say, like, “I’m feeling really anxious” and “Don’t worry, I’m here for you”. We high-fived each other over our newfound relationship awesomeness and felt like we’d dodged all the bullets. But the truth is that you don’t get rid of mental illness through communication skills and extra high-fives. The truth is that you don’t get rid of mental illness at all. It stays with you like a third person in your marriage, and you both have to agree to cater to its needs.

When winter came that year, I began longing for my bed. Bed has always been my depression gateway drug, sucking me in so that the sadness can take hold. It wasn’t long before I found myself pulling the covers over my head each morning as Matt dressed for work, no longer bothering to pretend like I wasn’t fully intending on going straight back to bed as soon as he left. I was desperate to hide from the feelings of numbness and dread I had to contend with whenever I was awake. I toyed with the idea of admitting what was happening just like I promised I would, but I didn’t. Once again, it started to feel easier just to keep it to myself.

But while I was quickly sliding back into my old habits, Matt had somehow found a better way to shake my fog. On one particularly rough day, I had spent hours hiding out in our bedroom, binge-reading a blog I’d found about an American expat in Finland. The more I read, the more my depressed mind began thinking that life seemed so much better there. And by the time Matt got home that night, I’d convinced myself that my misery wasn’t actually about depression at all. It was just that we didn’t live in a magical place like Finland where everyone was happier than we were.

“You need to get up,” Matt said, after he walked into our room and saw me in the same pajamas I’d been wearing when he left that morning. His face was tense with worry and frustration. “You can’t stay in bed like this. It’s not good for you.”

“We should move to Finland,” I blurted out. Of all the things he may have expected me to say in reply, I’m sure that certainly wasn’t one of them.

I tried to simultaneously explain myself and sell him on the idea. “I mean, I just think we live in the wrong place. We’re doing all the stuff you’re supposed to do, we’re trying so hard, and we’re still miserable. Let’s move to Finland. It would be an adventure.”

My abrupt suggestion hung in the air for a moment, before he sighed, exasperated. “Alana, we’re not going to sell our house and move to Finland. We have a life here. We can’t just throw that away.”

I didn’t expect him to take my request seriously, yet I could feel my irrational, inner depression voice bubbling up to the surface. He doesn’t get it, the voice said. If he cared about your happiness, he’d say yes. Tears quickly welled in my eyes.

“Why don’t you understand that living here is killing me?” I fired back. I could see his face tightening, wanting to scream at me while also trying to be there for me.

The sight of his frustration unnerved me, because in the past I knew Matt would have immediately surrendered. He would have seen that I was depressed and overreacting, and would have opted to give up quickly and wait for it to blow over. Fighting my irrational thinking didn’t seem worthwhile to his logic-driven mind. But this time he understood that what he actually needed to do was stand up for us.

“You’re struggling. I get that,” he said, slowly. “I know you’re getting worse and I want to help you, but when you talk like this I don’t even know what to say.”

It surprised me to hear him admit it. Most often, we had let my illness be the elephant in the room, neither of us wanting to speak about it. But this time, he kept talking.

“I hate that this is a thing that happens to you. I hate that your brain makes you want to hide in bed all day. I hate that you don’t want to tell me when it happens, and I hate that you think you wouldn’t still feel this way if we moved to Finland. But this isn’t you. This is just the stuff you say when you’re depressed. The things your brain says are not true. You need to realize that.”

MY STAY IN THE PSYCH WARD FORCED ME TO LET HIM IN, BUT I HADN’T YET LET HIM STAND BY MY SIDE.

My first instinct was to scoff at his completely sane response. I didn’t want to hear him confirm my worst fears about what was happening: that once again I was really not OK.

Thankfully though, the real meaning of his words hit me next. I saw that he wasn’t trying to say that I was a burden. He was actually saying that depression was the burden — and more importantly that it was our burden. I let my illness tell me that my marriage couldn’t hold under the weight of my struggles. But just as my depression is not who I am, it’s also not my responsibility to fix single-handedly. The deal we’d made was that we’d face life together. And while my stay in the psych ward may have forced me to let him in, I still had yet to give him the opportunity to stand by my side.

Matt and I saw my doctor together again, and after having my medication adjusted, I began in time to feel the haze lifting. We both breathed a sigh of relief as our lives began to resemble something that felt normal, yet we also knew this wouldn’t be the end.

We don’t have it even close to all figured out (who does?), but what we do have is the knowledge that we’re in it together. We’ve kept depression from dividing us, even though that’s an active, constant struggle. Ours might not be the marriage I dreamed of pre-diagnosis, but it’s somehow more glorious, more beautiful, more frustrating, and so much more alive than I ever imagined. And that’s not at all depressing.