This isn't my usual blog. It's a bummer so be warned.
When my ex-husband and I were dating, my future mom in law was not fond of me. The feeling was mutual. We argued, we made threats to each other, we generally put my ex directly in the middle of our extreme dislike. Throughout the divorce, we both made sure to place blame on each other for the destruction of the marriage.
Jan and I slowly found a way to get along. When she realized that I was not taking my girls away from their family, and was not going to turn them against their dad or the rest of them.. we started to build a friendship.
I can say now that I love this woman. She is special and I take strength from the relationship we have found.
This afternoon the entire family has been dealt a devastating blow. Jan has cancer. It is bad. Chances are very strong that we will not have this wonderful woman with us for much longer.
How do I tell her how much she means to me? I will tell her, through tears and with shaking voice, that I am proud to have known her.. she has been an adversary and a friend, and I do not want her to go. She needs to be here for the latest grandchild's wedding, for the next great-grandchild, for her own children and for her husband who may fall apart without her.
Jan is the glue that holds the entire dysfunctional family together.. and they are going to implode. I am not part of the family anymore..there are members that despise me and members I truly hate.. but she is still important to me.
I am thankful to know her.. and have hope that she, in her stubborn way, will be here for me to tell these things to.. but not for many years.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Slut Shame?
The thought that a woman is 'easy' because she wants sex is stupid. Women who enjoy sex, who are happy to have sex on a daily basis, outside the 'bonds of marriage' and who admit to having sexual friend or the occasional one night stand are not amoral. They are not loose or easy or full of self doubt and loathing. Men say they want sex all the time.. well guess what.. so do women! Why do we have to pretend that we don't think about sex, or want sex, or enjoy sex, in order to be attractive to a guy?
Men can and do have sexual encounters exactly as I just described above, yet it is the women involved that are shamed. We are bitches and hos and sluts and tramps.. never have I heard a guy describe a one night stand without at least ONE of those words being used to describe his partner in crime.
EXCUSE ME??
Why do we have to pretend that we don't think about sex, or want sex, or enjoy sex, in order to be attractive to a guy?
I am a classy, intelligent, beautiful woman who fucking LOVES sex. I have no shame in admitting that sometimes a random one night stand is EXACTLY what I need, or that I do not feel cheap having a booty call buddy. I absolutely refuse.. yes.. REFUSE.. to accept that because I am having sex when I want to, and how I want to, that I am less 'wantable' than a woman who keeps her legs shut till the third date.
Women that are free with their sexuality are awesome. We don't play games. I'm not going to pretend that I am some shy virgin until you have spent enough money on me to pry my thighs apart.. nor am I going to hike up my skirt in some back alley because you bought me a drink. If I don't want to hump you, I'm won't.. and if I do want to, I will. No arbitrary time line, no dollar amount, no stupid rules that are in place to make me feel ashamed about sex.
If you don't respect me because I put out, that's your loss. I respect me. If you want to believe that I am worth less because I liked it, again that's your loss. I know I am worth more. It shouldn't be a battle to get laid, and fighting for it doesn't make it mean anything. How stupid do you feel when the woman you had to beg won't give you a blow job because it offends her delicate nature?
Don't think that an 'easy' woman isn't an amazing woman.. we are allowed to be both.
Men can and do have sexual encounters exactly as I just described above, yet it is the women involved that are shamed. We are bitches and hos and sluts and tramps.. never have I heard a guy describe a one night stand without at least ONE of those words being used to describe his partner in crime.
EXCUSE ME??
Why do we have to pretend that we don't think about sex, or want sex, or enjoy sex, in order to be attractive to a guy?
I am a classy, intelligent, beautiful woman who fucking LOVES sex. I have no shame in admitting that sometimes a random one night stand is EXACTLY what I need, or that I do not feel cheap having a booty call buddy. I absolutely refuse.. yes.. REFUSE.. to accept that because I am having sex when I want to, and how I want to, that I am less 'wantable' than a woman who keeps her legs shut till the third date.
Women that are free with their sexuality are awesome. We don't play games. I'm not going to pretend that I am some shy virgin until you have spent enough money on me to pry my thighs apart.. nor am I going to hike up my skirt in some back alley because you bought me a drink. If I don't want to hump you, I'm won't.. and if I do want to, I will. No arbitrary time line, no dollar amount, no stupid rules that are in place to make me feel ashamed about sex.
If you don't respect me because I put out, that's your loss. I respect me. If you want to believe that I am worth less because I liked it, again that's your loss. I know I am worth more. It shouldn't be a battle to get laid, and fighting for it doesn't make it mean anything. How stupid do you feel when the woman you had to beg won't give you a blow job because it offends her delicate nature?
Don't think that an 'easy' woman isn't an amazing woman.. we are allowed to be both.
 |
| Sorry Bob.. but I call BULLSHIT! |
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Sounds like breakfast..
This little story popped up in my fb newsfeed a few weeks ago, and I have been turning it over in my head ever since.
A young woman went to her Grandmother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling.
Her Grandmother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans.
She let them sit and boil without saying a word. In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.
Turning to her Granddaughter, she asked, "Tell me, what do you see?" "Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.
The Grandmother asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft and mushy. She then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hardened egg. Finally, she asked her to sip the coffee.
"What's the point, Grandma?"
Her Grandmother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity - boiling water - but each reacted differently.
The carrot went in strong, hard and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it became weak.
The egg had been fragile. Its thin, outer shell had protected its liquid interior. But, after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.
The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water they had changed the water.
"Which are you?" she asked her Granddaughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?"
I have allowed myself, encouraged myself even, to become the egg. Hard and unyielding, wrapped up in a shell that does not protect my soft insides but hides the hard and cynical center of me from view.
I always believed that I handled life's difficulties well, gaining wisdom from my mistakes and fighting the injustices as best I could. What I discovered however, was quite different.
I let every negative thing in my life harden my heart. I was not learning from my mistakes.. I was using them to build my armor. I railed against circumstances I would never gain control of, never change, taking every rebuff as another reason to mortar my walls high and strong. I unwittingly formed an unbreakable barrier between me and the world, all while believing I was only creating a thin shell.
These walls do not serve me well. They keep out love and friendship and happiness and hope.. and hold in fear and pain and loneliness and regret.
I am tired of living inside this fortress, and I have begun to create a doorway.. but because I thought I was only cracking a shell, the process is more involved than I expected.
I am afraid.
When the door is done, will I be able to open it.. will I even have the nerve to reach for the handle?
I am the egg, but I want to be the coffee.
A young woman went to her Grandmother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling.
Her Grandmother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans.
She let them sit and boil without saying a word. In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.
Turning to her Granddaughter, she asked, "Tell me, what do you see?" "Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.
The Grandmother asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft and mushy. She then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hardened egg. Finally, she asked her to sip the coffee.
"What's the point, Grandma?"
Her Grandmother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity - boiling water - but each reacted differently.
The carrot went in strong, hard and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it became weak.
The egg had been fragile. Its thin, outer shell had protected its liquid interior. But, after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.
The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water they had changed the water.
"Which are you?" she asked her Granddaughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?"
I have allowed myself, encouraged myself even, to become the egg. Hard and unyielding, wrapped up in a shell that does not protect my soft insides but hides the hard and cynical center of me from view.
I always believed that I handled life's difficulties well, gaining wisdom from my mistakes and fighting the injustices as best I could. What I discovered however, was quite different.
I let every negative thing in my life harden my heart. I was not learning from my mistakes.. I was using them to build my armor. I railed against circumstances I would never gain control of, never change, taking every rebuff as another reason to mortar my walls high and strong. I unwittingly formed an unbreakable barrier between me and the world, all while believing I was only creating a thin shell.
These walls do not serve me well. They keep out love and friendship and happiness and hope.. and hold in fear and pain and loneliness and regret.
I am tired of living inside this fortress, and I have begun to create a doorway.. but because I thought I was only cracking a shell, the process is more involved than I expected.
I am afraid.
When the door is done, will I be able to open it.. will I even have the nerve to reach for the handle?
I am the egg, but I want to be the coffee.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Well..
Ok all.. this is going to be a serious kind of blog today. Sorry.
My mom is a good person, kind and giving and always glad to do things for/with her granddaughters. Proud of her adult children, and can be quite funny.
Until she cracks open a bottle of bourbon.
Then she is hateful, mean, and bitter. She rants and raves at anyone unlucky enough to be in the same house with her, including the pets and television. Every mistake you have ever made gets pulled out and thrown at you, usually with derisive laughter and a mocking tone. She spews "when I was growing up" or "My mother would have never"..
(let me clarify that my mom's mother was a horrible parent, allowing her children to be physically and sexually abused before tossing them into a Home (like an orphanage) for years, where they were subjected to even MORE abuse. However, in her drunken rampages, my mom claims a golden and beautiful childhood with a strong and loving mother who worked herself silly to raise a brood of kids.)
My mom's examples of how wonderfully she was raised, and how wonderfully my brother and I were raised, are brought up for the sole purpose of condemning the behavior of either myself as a parent or of my kids as people. My children are lazy, or spoiled, or ungrateful, or disrespectful.. they will never amount to anything because they are just terrible people, and I am to blame. (Her bile is always directed at me, even if she goes about it in a round-about way)
I have made mistakes as a parent and as a person, we all do. In the heat of my mom's diatribe, every single misstep, every bad boyfriend, every wrong turn I have had becomes a battle cry for how completely she despises me.
Make no mistake, my mom hates me, with a burning passion. (That may sound childish, but it is a truth that can not be masked)
I am held up for dissection.. compared to my brother, my cousins, her siblings, random people she has seen on tv or in the news.. and found lacking in every way. I have been told to get out of my children's lives, that they would be better off if I simply didn't exist. I have been told that it is a good thing I couldn't have more babies because I am a slut who will spread my legs for anyone. I have been told that maybe I should apply for disability because I am too stupid to hold a job. I have been told that I am alone because once any man gets to know me he sees how useless I am and runs. I am fat, stupid, lazy, useless, selfish, self-centered, cruel, lacking in morals.. she has even gone as far as stating that maybe I was retarded, and she probably should have just had an abortion and saved everyone the trouble of supporting me.
My mom is an alcoholic. She has been an alcoholic since my brother and I were teenagers, maybe before. My mom knows she is an alcoholic, knows she is abusive when she drinks, and doesn't care.
I have tried for years to be there for her, to help her stop drinking.. I am done. She has ripped my little family apart, my oldest is moving out and my youngest is scared of her. I have to leave her. My mom says she hates being a mom, and a grandmom, so I will remove those burdens from her life. It will not be easy for my girls and I, but it is time to cut my mom loose before we all hate her.
I don't have a job, but I will find something. The place we can live makes this apartment look like the Broadmoor, but it will be a safe and loving home. There may not be cable or internet for a while, probably not even a phone, but it will be a better place for at least my youngest and I.. my oldest isn't coming back.
I write this not to condemn my mom, or to look like a victim, but to simply say enough is enough and declare that my life will no longer be hers to destroy.
My mom is a good person, kind and giving and always glad to do things for/with her granddaughters. Proud of her adult children, and can be quite funny.
Until she cracks open a bottle of bourbon.
Then she is hateful, mean, and bitter. She rants and raves at anyone unlucky enough to be in the same house with her, including the pets and television. Every mistake you have ever made gets pulled out and thrown at you, usually with derisive laughter and a mocking tone. She spews "when I was growing up" or "My mother would have never"..
(let me clarify that my mom's mother was a horrible parent, allowing her children to be physically and sexually abused before tossing them into a Home (like an orphanage) for years, where they were subjected to even MORE abuse. However, in her drunken rampages, my mom claims a golden and beautiful childhood with a strong and loving mother who worked herself silly to raise a brood of kids.)
My mom's examples of how wonderfully she was raised, and how wonderfully my brother and I were raised, are brought up for the sole purpose of condemning the behavior of either myself as a parent or of my kids as people. My children are lazy, or spoiled, or ungrateful, or disrespectful.. they will never amount to anything because they are just terrible people, and I am to blame. (Her bile is always directed at me, even if she goes about it in a round-about way)
I have made mistakes as a parent and as a person, we all do. In the heat of my mom's diatribe, every single misstep, every bad boyfriend, every wrong turn I have had becomes a battle cry for how completely she despises me.
Make no mistake, my mom hates me, with a burning passion. (That may sound childish, but it is a truth that can not be masked)
I am held up for dissection.. compared to my brother, my cousins, her siblings, random people she has seen on tv or in the news.. and found lacking in every way. I have been told to get out of my children's lives, that they would be better off if I simply didn't exist. I have been told that it is a good thing I couldn't have more babies because I am a slut who will spread my legs for anyone. I have been told that maybe I should apply for disability because I am too stupid to hold a job. I have been told that I am alone because once any man gets to know me he sees how useless I am and runs. I am fat, stupid, lazy, useless, selfish, self-centered, cruel, lacking in morals.. she has even gone as far as stating that maybe I was retarded, and she probably should have just had an abortion and saved everyone the trouble of supporting me.
My mom is an alcoholic. She has been an alcoholic since my brother and I were teenagers, maybe before. My mom knows she is an alcoholic, knows she is abusive when she drinks, and doesn't care.
I have tried for years to be there for her, to help her stop drinking.. I am done. She has ripped my little family apart, my oldest is moving out and my youngest is scared of her. I have to leave her. My mom says she hates being a mom, and a grandmom, so I will remove those burdens from her life. It will not be easy for my girls and I, but it is time to cut my mom loose before we all hate her.
I don't have a job, but I will find something. The place we can live makes this apartment look like the Broadmoor, but it will be a safe and loving home. There may not be cable or internet for a while, probably not even a phone, but it will be a better place for at least my youngest and I.. my oldest isn't coming back.
I write this not to condemn my mom, or to look like a victim, but to simply say enough is enough and declare that my life will no longer be hers to destroy.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Resolutions..
Every year, I make my New Years Resolutions.. they are always the same : Lose weight, find love, get rich. Not always in those words, but they are still the same basic ideas. These last until the first piece of cake, the first hint if intimacy, or the realization that I have no idea how to get rich. This year, in honor of my 40th new year, I am switching up my list.
I don't need to find love, I have it.. my family and my friends love me unconditionally. I don't need to get rich, I would just spend it on plastic surgery and sequined hot pants anyway. I don't need to lose weight, I am a fat girl and would look ridiculous being a skinny girl.
Resolution 1: I resolve to laugh more. If you have seen ANY picture of me from this last year, you may be wondering just how I plan on fitting even more laughter into my life, but I am willing to carve out some time for laughter every single day.. even if I must sacrifice other things.. like crying.
Resolution 2: I resolve to dance more. I will faithfully put the tv on an 80s music station and dance about the house with wild abandon in my underwear.. because it is fun and will embarrass my kids.
Resolution 3: I resolve to lose my inhibitions. I know, I don't really need to lose any more.. I am a shameless tart as it is.. but I am gonna try really hard to lose those last stubborn 5 or so inhibitions that I just can't seem to get rid of.
Resolution 4: I resolve to google more responsibly. Instead of using Google to look up things like "blue waffle" I promise to use it once a day to look up stuff about science or something. (OK.. I do that all the time, I enjoy being smart.. I just want you all to google blue waffle!)
Resolution 5: I resolve to be the best me I can be. I am learning to love the fabulous and unique self that I am, I will continue to know that I am a great human being.
Resolution 6: I resolve to pay attention. To the world, my country, my state and my neighborhood. I will not sit quietly while people are abused, overlooked, or repressed. I will fight alongside my fellow humans for equality and tolerance.. and will be vocal about their rights. I will attempt to fill the minds of the uninformed, and call out the names of the ignorant.
Resolution 7: I resolve to be a woman my daughters can be proud of. Every day I will show my girls that being exactly who you are is acceptable and the right thing to do.
There ya go.. my Resolutions for 2013. These may be the hardest ones I will ever keep, but they are the most important I have ever made. I've got a feeling this is going to be the best year yet!
Happy New Year!
I don't need to find love, I have it.. my family and my friends love me unconditionally. I don't need to get rich, I would just spend it on plastic surgery and sequined hot pants anyway. I don't need to lose weight, I am a fat girl and would look ridiculous being a skinny girl.
Resolution 1: I resolve to laugh more. If you have seen ANY picture of me from this last year, you may be wondering just how I plan on fitting even more laughter into my life, but I am willing to carve out some time for laughter every single day.. even if I must sacrifice other things.. like crying.
Resolution 2: I resolve to dance more. I will faithfully put the tv on an 80s music station and dance about the house with wild abandon in my underwear.. because it is fun and will embarrass my kids.
Resolution 3: I resolve to lose my inhibitions. I know, I don't really need to lose any more.. I am a shameless tart as it is.. but I am gonna try really hard to lose those last stubborn 5 or so inhibitions that I just can't seem to get rid of.
Resolution 4: I resolve to google more responsibly. Instead of using Google to look up things like "blue waffle" I promise to use it once a day to look up stuff about science or something. (OK.. I do that all the time, I enjoy being smart.. I just want you all to google blue waffle!)
Resolution 5: I resolve to be the best me I can be. I am learning to love the fabulous and unique self that I am, I will continue to know that I am a great human being.
Resolution 6: I resolve to pay attention. To the world, my country, my state and my neighborhood. I will not sit quietly while people are abused, overlooked, or repressed. I will fight alongside my fellow humans for equality and tolerance.. and will be vocal about their rights. I will attempt to fill the minds of the uninformed, and call out the names of the ignorant.
Resolution 7: I resolve to be a woman my daughters can be proud of. Every day I will show my girls that being exactly who you are is acceptable and the right thing to do.
There ya go.. my Resolutions for 2013. These may be the hardest ones I will ever keep, but they are the most important I have ever made. I've got a feeling this is going to be the best year yet!
Happy New Year!
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Slump..
It's the holiday season.. hooray! I love the spirit of the holidays, everyone taking the extra moment to think about others, embracing those who have less, making an attempt to overlook differences and filling the gaps with love. So much to enjoy, the human spirit at it's best. That being said, I despise the commercialism of the holidays, the grabby, me me me, I want, there must be thousands of dollars worth of stuff under the tree or you don't love your family, I hate that crap so much!
My 9yr old informed me the other day that she doesn't really need much for Christmas.. I have too many toys, and too many clothes, but maybe I could use a few online game memberships and new Monster High dolls. This from the child that WANTS every toy she sees on tv, who calls me into her room to see every commercial so I know exactly which toy she is hyperventilating over. I was flabbergasted (don't you just love that word) the conversation came out of nowhere, we weren't talking about the holidays or toys or anything! This must have been weighing on her mind, she isn't really a serious talk kind of kid.
Every year I swear that we are not going to go crazy with the gifts, and every year I panic and make a last minute expensive trip to the store. I am going to make every attempt to not do this. I am going to listen to what she really wants, and be ok with the the small puddle of stuff under the tree. I want her to understand that meaningful is better than massive, and I think she has learned that far better than I have.
I am not going to any box stores, I think I am buying her mainstream gifts online. I am making gifts for the adults in my life, up-cycling and re-purposing. I will probably be adding a few hand made things to her tree stash as well. I have seen some things in our local shops that I would like to bring home, however, cost is such an issue shopping local! I realize why, and I will put a little money into the pockets of small business owners, but it's gonna hurt.
I want to create a slump for the commercial side of the season. I want us to begin to create our gifts, to embrace the unique gift, not prize the same gift everyone else bought. In the grand scheme of things, the ginormous stores are not going to notice my piddly money not being there. I will notice though. It may not be much, but I can't and won't continue ranting about how terrible the commercialization of the season has become while hitting up Target and Toys-r-Us for plastic crap and cookie cutter sameness.
My tree may not be piled with boxes, but I will know, and those that love me will know, that what is under the tree is special.. and that is what the season is all about.
My 9yr old informed me the other day that she doesn't really need much for Christmas.. I have too many toys, and too many clothes, but maybe I could use a few online game memberships and new Monster High dolls. This from the child that WANTS every toy she sees on tv, who calls me into her room to see every commercial so I know exactly which toy she is hyperventilating over. I was flabbergasted (don't you just love that word) the conversation came out of nowhere, we weren't talking about the holidays or toys or anything! This must have been weighing on her mind, she isn't really a serious talk kind of kid.
Every year I swear that we are not going to go crazy with the gifts, and every year I panic and make a last minute expensive trip to the store. I am going to make every attempt to not do this. I am going to listen to what she really wants, and be ok with the the small puddle of stuff under the tree. I want her to understand that meaningful is better than massive, and I think she has learned that far better than I have.
I am not going to any box stores, I think I am buying her mainstream gifts online. I am making gifts for the adults in my life, up-cycling and re-purposing. I will probably be adding a few hand made things to her tree stash as well. I have seen some things in our local shops that I would like to bring home, however, cost is such an issue shopping local! I realize why, and I will put a little money into the pockets of small business owners, but it's gonna hurt.
I want to create a slump for the commercial side of the season. I want us to begin to create our gifts, to embrace the unique gift, not prize the same gift everyone else bought. In the grand scheme of things, the ginormous stores are not going to notice my piddly money not being there. I will notice though. It may not be much, but I can't and won't continue ranting about how terrible the commercialization of the season has become while hitting up Target and Toys-r-Us for plastic crap and cookie cutter sameness.
My tree may not be piled with boxes, but I will know, and those that love me will know, that what is under the tree is special.. and that is what the season is all about.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Cha-chas, cookies, and ya-yas..
During a conversation with a friend the other day, I called my girl bits a cha-cha. She looked at me and said.. why can't people say vagina?
I was taken aback. I only ever use "cute" names for my stuff when I am around others, because there are women that are deeply offended by the V word. However, at home, it is always called a vagina. My girls have grown up knowing and using the anatomic names for not only their own junk, but the junk of the opposite sex as well.
When my oldest daughter was young, maybe 2 or so, we were hanging out at my cousin's house. Kate was riding a trike when she slid forward and whacked her vagina on the middle bar thingy. We saw what happened, and my cousin asked her, "Did you hurt your cookie?" Well.. Kate looked at her oddly, she had no cookie.. what was this about cookies.. did everyone else get a cookie when she wasn't looking? To save my poor confused child, I said, "Did you hit your vagina?" Kate replied that she had, but wanted to know more about those cookies. I thought my cousin was going to shit on herself! How can you use that filthy word! Thinking that I had unknowingly said fuck or something, I asked which word, and apologized for being offensive. Vagina, she said.. how can you teach your kid to say THAT word.. it is a horrible nasty disgusting word.. you should be ashamed.
Oh.. really?
Much like my friend, I don't KNOW why people are terrified of the words vagina and penis. They are after all, just words.. like tree and donut and blue.. yet as a majority, we see these words as dirty. More than likely, our aversion to the use of vagina and penis stems from our overall suppression of all things sex.
We are a country of mixed messages. We are unable to discuss sex except in the most abstract of terms, yet we expect our kids to have a concrete grasp on sexual behavior. We dress our daughters in hyper-sexualized clothing, then demand they remain virginal. We encourage our sons to view females as sexual objects, then do not enforce a behavior of respect. It reminds me of the gypsy culture currently being shown on tv. These girls, from as young as 4 and 5, put on the barest minimum of clothing and dance about like strippers. The boys force girls into dark corners and pinch, push, and belittle them into giving a kiss. It is against culture to be sexually active before marriage, yet the messages being sent are nothing but sexual in nature.
How about this.. let's all teach our kids, and ourselves, some new words. Vagina and penis.. say it.. V-a-g-i-n-a and P-e-n-i-s.. now, talk about them. Talk about sex. Talk about how great it feels, how scary the first time is, how it isn't a shameful act and anyone that makes you feel bad about having sex is wrong, how it's better to wait until you are older because sex is powerful and sometimes it's hard to handle the emotions even when you are an adult, how to protect yourself with condoms and birth control, how it's ok to share your body with someone else but maybe not with everyone else.. don't sugar coat it, but don't make it a horror story. Break out of the sex shaming and bring sex, vagina and penis out into the light.
We can not expect a person who can only call a vagina a ho-ha to have anything other than a repressed and dim knowledge of healthy sex. At the very least, just imagine the dirty talk.. oh yea baby, put your dingle in my ya-ya.. ummmmm.. nope.
I was taken aback. I only ever use "cute" names for my stuff when I am around others, because there are women that are deeply offended by the V word. However, at home, it is always called a vagina. My girls have grown up knowing and using the anatomic names for not only their own junk, but the junk of the opposite sex as well.
When my oldest daughter was young, maybe 2 or so, we were hanging out at my cousin's house. Kate was riding a trike when she slid forward and whacked her vagina on the middle bar thingy. We saw what happened, and my cousin asked her, "Did you hurt your cookie?" Well.. Kate looked at her oddly, she had no cookie.. what was this about cookies.. did everyone else get a cookie when she wasn't looking? To save my poor confused child, I said, "Did you hit your vagina?" Kate replied that she had, but wanted to know more about those cookies. I thought my cousin was going to shit on herself! How can you use that filthy word! Thinking that I had unknowingly said fuck or something, I asked which word, and apologized for being offensive. Vagina, she said.. how can you teach your kid to say THAT word.. it is a horrible nasty disgusting word.. you should be ashamed.
Oh.. really?
Much like my friend, I don't KNOW why people are terrified of the words vagina and penis. They are after all, just words.. like tree and donut and blue.. yet as a majority, we see these words as dirty. More than likely, our aversion to the use of vagina and penis stems from our overall suppression of all things sex.
We are a country of mixed messages. We are unable to discuss sex except in the most abstract of terms, yet we expect our kids to have a concrete grasp on sexual behavior. We dress our daughters in hyper-sexualized clothing, then demand they remain virginal. We encourage our sons to view females as sexual objects, then do not enforce a behavior of respect. It reminds me of the gypsy culture currently being shown on tv. These girls, from as young as 4 and 5, put on the barest minimum of clothing and dance about like strippers. The boys force girls into dark corners and pinch, push, and belittle them into giving a kiss. It is against culture to be sexually active before marriage, yet the messages being sent are nothing but sexual in nature.
How about this.. let's all teach our kids, and ourselves, some new words. Vagina and penis.. say it.. V-a-g-i-n-a and P-e-n-i-s.. now, talk about them. Talk about sex. Talk about how great it feels, how scary the first time is, how it isn't a shameful act and anyone that makes you feel bad about having sex is wrong, how it's better to wait until you are older because sex is powerful and sometimes it's hard to handle the emotions even when you are an adult, how to protect yourself with condoms and birth control, how it's ok to share your body with someone else but maybe not with everyone else.. don't sugar coat it, but don't make it a horror story. Break out of the sex shaming and bring sex, vagina and penis out into the light.
We can not expect a person who can only call a vagina a ho-ha to have anything other than a repressed and dim knowledge of healthy sex. At the very least, just imagine the dirty talk.. oh yea baby, put your dingle in my ya-ya.. ummmmm.. nope.
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