26 October 2007

PTA Butt Sex?

So, over at Jezebel, they have their usual "Crap [Something] From a Dude" and today it's an eBay listing. But in the comments, there are actually two discussions going on:
  1. PTA bake sales
  2. Surprise anal sex
It's just unbelievably awesome.

Friday Cat Blogging--Forbidden Love Edition

"Oh, painted flower box, nobody must know about our love. I shall kiss you and caress you, mwah mwah mwah!"

And speaking of crazy cat ladies, I am totally addicted to this site: http://www.omgkitty.com/

How can you not fall in love with that face? Is it wrong to be so in love with a cat I've never met? I need therapy.

25 October 2007

Xmas comes earlier every year, doesn't it?

In honor of the War on Christmas, take a listen to Zuzu's adaptation of The Twelve Days of Christmas.

And speaking of the War on Christmas, according to Wonkette, WorldNutDaily claims it has already begun. Fine. So be it.

I have a theory on why there are so many suicides around the holidays. It's because people get sick and tired of Xmas! Seriously, folks, there are commercials on the radio and decorations in the stores already, and it isn't even Halloween yet. I know that I start to get a little antsy after a couple of months of carols and Santa. Oy.

Really? This again?

So Mike Huckabee has trotted out the tired claim that because women have so many abortions, we have to import illegal immigrants to do jobs we don't have enough people to do. Right. He's apparently been hanging out with Tom Delay.

Any time this argument comes up, I wonder how many illegal immigrants the speaker has employed either directly or indirectly. And I'm sure that Mike would be more than willing to take that field picking job away from an immigrant. Way to conflate arguments.

My Itty Bitty Titties

So, yesterday I wrote about how vain some people can be in the case of illness. I still stand by what I wrote, by the way. In fact, I feel compelled to write a post specifically about "reconstructive surgery" after mastectomy.

I've got itty bitty titties. 34A's, to be generous. At no point in my life have I ever contemplated implants, although I have been less secure than I am now in my womanliness because I lacked giant mammary protuberances. I've always scoffed at women who got implants because it was like they were putting a Band-Aid on a lost limb. They never thought about why they were doing it, and were always surprised when the world didn't magically turn into a perpetually sunshiney place. Well, duh. I could be rather smug about the love of my itty bitties, in fact, and I probably put a lot of people off.

One thing that has always bothered me, however, is the utter lack of unpadded bras in my size. I probably don't need a bra, but in my professional life I don't want to risk anything. But just try to find a bra with an A cup that isn't padded. There ain't any. So, I buy the padded ones. And try to have a sense of humor about the Nerf balls strapped to my chest. Apparently, someone out there, probably a man, assumes that women with itty bitties doesn't want to have itty bitties and would naturally want a padded bra. Okay, that's completely silly, but it's not the end of my world.

Where I get insulted is when women have reconstructive surgery after mastectomy. Nowadays, it's a given that women will have reconstruction when they have a mastectomy. From what I've heard, it's damn hard to convince your surgeon that you don't want implants, because, hey, why wouldn't you? If I came to the point where I needed a mastectomy, it would suck, surely. Physical rehabilitation must be a total bitch, and recovery has to be a hundred times worse than what I went through with my lumpectomy. But come on! You're not dead! Celebrate it!

Many women feel like they will lose their womanhood with their breast(s). Really? So, the fact that I have (basically) no breasts to begin with makes me a non-woman? Seriously? I have 20 years of menstruation in my past that would beg to differ, thank you. I'd never really thought about this until my surgery. I'd always loved my boobicles, because they didn't prevent me from moving freely, they were comfortable, and most of all, they were healthy. When I realized that they weren't healthy, I started to hate them. At least the one with the lump. My good friends, who I'd watched grow up, had betrayed me and tried to kill me. I was pissed.

But then I had my surgery, and follow up exams proved that I was cancer-free with no need for radiation or chemo treatment. Wahoo! So I can't understand how a woman going through such a life-threatening situation could be so focused on such a trivial part of her personhood. Honestly, before my surgery, I was all, "Hack those fuckers off! I don't care! Hack 'em off!" I don't identify by my boobicles. No woman should. As Twisty proves, you are still powerful without them, and you can still change the world.

24 October 2007

Suffering from Bell's Palsy

I know I haven't written in a long time, but I've been kind of wrapped up in other things and not very motivated to write. But I saw something in Salon that really sparked me. I've been out of town for the past week at conferences, so I'm really late to this, but this letter writer who has Bell's Palsy is absolutely flipping her shit. She doesn't want to leave the house. She's trying to figure out what she did wrong to deserve such a horrible fucking tragedy. She's wondering if the universe is giving her a message.

Oy. It really pissed me off, so I was happy to go to the letters section to see how other people felt. I'm bummed that comments are closed, because I would have given her a lopsided mouthful! The letter is just dripping with arrogance and privilege. Bell's Palsy sucks, big time, but it isn't the end of the world. There's excruciating pain, it's hard to eat or drink anything, your eyes hurt like hell, people make rude comments and you make babies cry.

It seems like this person is most concerned about the last two symptoms. Here's what I say: Fuck it. If someone is so offended by the sight of your slightly contorted face, then they have a real problem and I feel sorry for them, because they must go through life getting offended by everything. And I make babies cry anyway, so I don't even know if my Bell's made it worse or if it was just my charm.

If she were upset over the pain and inconvenience, then I could sympathize. But even as I was suffering my intense pain from Bell's, I never felt sorry for myself. (Well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration.) Other people felt VERY sorry for me, like my mother, and all I could say was, "At least it's temporary. It's not killing me. Get over it!"

I'm reminded of my brush with boobicle cancer. I had a lump, I had a mammogram, doctor told me it needed to come out, and I was under the knife the following week. Everyone felt so sorry for me, wondering how I would manage with a mutilated titty that would most certainly be unattractive to possible suitors, and going through a divorce and all I didn't want to feel unattractive, did I? Again, oy. The surgery sucked, big time. I couldn't move my right arm for a long time. I still have stabbing pain in my boob, especially in cold weather. I had to wear a binder type bra while I was healing. And yes, I have a scar. But I'm not ashamed of it in the least. It's a sign of my present health, which I may not have right now had I not gotten that scar.

That's what I don't understand about women who get breast implants after a mastectomy. I've had really small boobs all my life, so having a mastectomy wouldn't really affect me aesthetically. (Physically, pain wise and ability wise, is another story. It's an incredibly difficult procedure to recover from.) So it kind of pisses me off when women in life-threatening circumstances still have the ability to decide that they don't want to live like me, flat-chested and happy.

This has turned into a long rant. Maybe it will get me blogging again. But things like this just really spark my fire. People just aren't grateful for what they have and need to wallow in self-pity, and I have no patience for it. Bell's Palsy girl: leave your house, grow a sack, and get a life! You're going to be a mother soon! Don't pass your neuroses to your child!