20 May 2006

Crotch waxing? ¡Que barbaridad!

Reading a lot of new blogs lately. I am so excited about going to BlogHer 2006 that I have been taking some time to read blogs by other women who are attending.

I keep finding posts that mention bikini - or as I prefer to call it - crotch - waxing. It is normally something I prefer not to think about. But it is something that women just mention in passing now "Oh, yeah, got my crotch waxed."

Queen of Spain mentioned it in a post about babysitting - her former babysitter was also apparently her crotch waxer. Greek Tragedy is seeking a good waxer while she is on vacation in Austin "someone who knows to spread your ass and dig in the cracks with a waxy stick. Someone who takes out tweezers when she's done." Ick.

How did this become acceptable? How did a large portion of the American public start to think it was necessary for women to undergo this torture to be sexually attractive?

And it IS torture. Come on. If we found out that prisoners were having hot wax poured on their privates and having their pubic hair ripped out by the roots, the response would be "Call Amnesty International! Call the UN! It must be stopped!"

Women themselves are asking for it. But why? What bizarre women-hating qualities of our culture are playing themselves out in this practice? Is there anything, anything, comparably painful that men do to make themselves attractive to women?

That's why I'm with the hilarious Suzanne over at Campaign for Unshaven Snatch (CUSS). I just don't like to see torture. No matter what people call it.

19 May 2006

A favor, but a fun favor

I would like to ask you a favor. Please go over to Gandhi Rules's dad's blog and check it out. An encouraging comment would be nice too.

He is someone who has written without an audience his whole life, like so many of us. And he is a true storyteller, someone full of tales and anecdotes. He lives in Mexico and writes about some of the funny, frustrating, wacky aspects of that country. Things you may recognize if you have ever spent any time there.

If you want to hear my tale of 3 weeks in Mexico, I have a diary-blog, Three Oaxaca Weeks . I am the first to admit that it is excessively long (you don't even get on the ground in Mexico until about 10 posts go by) and excessively detailed. But it has some nice photos, so keep skipping and scrolling.

Have a good weekend. I am off to WriteGirl for our monthly workshop. Songwriting this time. I hear someone amazing is going to be there. I can't wait!

18 May 2006

Moon Time

I should have known that it was PMS (see post below) when I started fantasizing about onion rings during my A Course in Miracles class on Tuesday night.

Or when I came home last night and, despite my self-imposed drinking hiatus, made a margarita (and baby, was it fabulous).

I seem to have long bouts of PMS, sometimes up to a week. It makes me feel like a hermit crab walking around without a shell, all soft and fragile and defenseless. Usually I have a hard shell between me and my emotions, but during PMS that protection is gone and I am left at the mercy of any stimulus that comes my way.

Our world just isn't set up to accommodate this. We have to keep on driving forward even if the starving toddler on the World Children's Fund billboard makes us burst into tears during PMS. No one has time to care about our hormonal issues.

Back in the early days of feminism there was some discussion about whether women could be judges because PMS might cloud their sense of fairness and balance. Feminists were outraged at the suggestion. But when I think about it, for me, there is no might about it. I feel like I could be fair most of the time, but give me a head full of raging PMS hormones and all that goes out the window. Rapist? Bang, the gavel comes down. Send him away for life. Child molester? Are you kidding me? You think you are EVER getting out? I don't CARE what the sentencing guidelines are, they can try to take away my judgeship later, but for now, buster, you are GOING AWAY.

I met a native American woman up in Ojai who was very into her "moon time." (No surprise - Ojai is the place that people are thinking about when they imagine California New Age Wackos. Naturally, I love it up there). She talked about how she decided to honor the traditions of her ancestors and sequester herself during her period.

Sure, right, whatever, I thought.

"Of course, that means I can never hold a regular job," she added. Then it hit me. Wow. This woman had made a commitment that really changed her life in a major way.

She talked about how her ancestors would usually menstruate at the same time, because they lived without artificial light, so their cycles followed the moon. They went off to a private place to be together during this special time.

What this also meant, she said, was that the men had to know how to take care of the kids, because they did it full-time at least five days a month.

I had always heard of women being sequestered during menstruation as a negative thing before. It was supposedly because they were unclean and would foul the water and the cooking pots. This was a different story. Women hanging out together, relaxing, treating each other well AND having the guys take the kids?

It may all have been her interpretation, something she made up, new age hooey. But it sure got my imagination going. What would the world look like if we still did that?

I mean, all this hormonality has to be good for something. Everything in nature has a purpose. Surely we didn't get this flood of hormones that triggers so much emotion for nothing.

I think it is a good time to stop, to evaluate a bit, to use the shell-less period to get in touch with how we really feel. Maybe our hearts truly are always broken by the hungry kids. Maybe we really are steaming mad at the fact that our partner doesn't do their fair share of housework.

It's just that most of the time we don't have our defenses stripped away like we do with PMS. That is probably good. I don't think I would want to live a life that feels so raw. But maybe with a little planning and thought, I can learn to use this time to my advantage instead of moaning over it.

17 May 2006

15 May 2006

BlogHer Contest Winner

I turned all the comments into raffle tickets. That took about an hour and a half and made me wonder: why did I post so much?

All the tickets

To eliminate bias, I went next door to nice neighbor John's house and asked him to select the winner.

In the end, there was only one winner.

But she is already going to BlogHer. I wonder who she will choose to go?

Congratulations Izzy, my most frequent commenter, and thanks to everyone who played.

14 May 2006

Another travel photo

This one of Mr. Stapler's glowing white legs on a catamaran in Kauai always makes me laugh hard. Break out the #45 sunscreen.

Not a good mother's day

Update: Thank you so much to everyone for their response and prayers and thoughts.

ShelbyAnne is out of the ICU and her fever has broken. Yay. No word yet on when she is coming home.

A side note: she had a kidney infection, not a brain virus. She did not need an operation.

The first report was from my mom, who is a notoriously faulty source, especially concerning medical information (ask my sister.) I should have known not to believe her. It is just another in a long string of mom misunderstandings.

In any case, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

My nephew and his wife are in their early 20's and had a very premature baby last year.

The little girl has cerebral palsy and has always been very weak and small. Now she is 15 months old and about the size of a 6 month old. I don't think she will ever walk, can't move her left side, can't hold her head up.

Now she has a virus in her brain. It is serious and she is in intensive care in a children's hospital while they decide what to do. An operation is dangerous. Not operating may not be an option.

It's a bad situation, and no matter what happens it is still going to be bad.

So if you can send a prayer or a good vibe or light a candle for baby ShelbyAnne, I would appreciate it. Thank you, internet friends.
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