The Only Way Out Is Pleasuremaxxing

A Your Mom post

The other day I was texting my best friend…while I was in a steamy hot shower…while I was listening to Misery on tape…while I was drinking an icy cold Diet Coke. It felt…like the maximum amount of pleasure I could experience in a twenty minute window.

Pleasuremaxxing, I texted her. Which as a name, I think is rooted in some TikTok microtrends or something that I’m too old to fully understand, but pleasuremaxxing as a concept - a wholly nonsexual one, I have a pretty firm grasp on. (It might also be a porno thing but that is so not my universe or what I’m talking about here…but if it is, oopsie!)

As a mother, my windows for self-centered joy are narrow. Pure indulgence, or laziness, or wallowing (whether in bliss or misery) are de-prioritized. Pleasure via the joys of motherhood, or satisfaction of a job well done, or pride in your family are bumped up the ladder. Right? Pleasure via the pleasure of others.

Pleasuremaxxing, as a mother, is the opposite of that. It’s all about you, Miss Mi…