Am I the only one who sees the above and thinks, “Dammit, I want a hot dog!” #momclown.wordpress.com
Am I the only one who sees the above and thinks, “Dammit, I want a hot dog!” #momclown.wordpress.com
“The DivaCup empowers women to connect with their bodies and menstrual cycles like never before”
Ok, it’s been awhile. Here ya go. Enter at your own risk.
Let’s go back, back in time to that scene in Carrie where she starts her period in the shower. Are ya with me? Bleeding from her lady parts and freaking out. Circled by a squad, of Queens Bee’s shouting, “Plug It UP, Plug it up!
And there you have it. A girl’s entry into The Red Tent, menstruation,…… hell.
Oh, sure, I’m part of the new age where women are learning to embrace it. We’re learning to tell our new “Moon Maidens” (yes, I said, “Moon Maidens”) that they’re special, that we have something men will never have, an ability to create a life force, a cleansing, we are in touch with the cycles of the tides………..
And then we also have 12-year-old daughters who look up from their IG account and fake vomit in their hands when you tell them, “Target sells Diva Cups honey, isn’t that cool?”
We all have our, “First Period Story”. In fact, when I’ve actually asked women they are more than happy to recall it. Every. Little. Detail. My own story is pretty basic. My mom was on her way back from Vegas. I told her on phone. She comes home with a GIANT box of Kotex and a “belt” to attach. Are you kidding me? For Fuck sake, these things were the size medics used to soak up abdominal shrapnel injuries in the Viet Kong. Clearly my mom did not, for one second, consider my wardrobe of Dolphin shorts and crocheted bikini bottoms. My guess is she thought I would hole up in my room for a week playing Janis Ian and wearing a wrap around skirt? But, what was a 7th grader to do? There were no aisles in Target dedicated to 100 varieties of products, hell, there was no Target for that matter.
But, pads it was, for a bit. So I’ll touch briefly. Clearly invented by men or sister wives. I’ve had women tell me they lost pads at RUSH concerts. It was there, then…….gone? WTF? NO belt, no double-sided tape, no pad after a few hours. I can only imagine the clean up crew finding a few on the ground thinking, “Gross, and where the fuck did that come from?” Oh yea, nothing like the feeling of a maxi pad crawling up you ass crack.
Tampons. A gift from the Gods. But, how was a virgin to use? And the choices? Well pretty much 2 were offered. One was called OB. No cardboard rocket launcher. Just insert and push. Push? How far? Raise your hand if you had an OB stuck halfway in and out because its super absorbency started to suck up every vital lubricant needed to “push it up toward your cervix”. Cervix? WTF? Ok, so move to Tampax. A little better, ok, much better, but who’s idea was it to make the top flat? Kudos for it being cardboard and not plastic. My first time? The girls bathroom, second floor, Emerson Jr. High. My BFF at the time (not a virgin) gave me one and said, “You can do it”. I did. My life changed from that moment on.
Fast Forward to being the mom of a tween. I’ve heard that most girls are keeping it to themselves. My guess, until they all are “in the club” it’s awkward. My kid pretty much has been reading about “Women’s Health” for a few years, she’s either going to be an OB, nurse practitioner in a free clinic, or saving sea turtles by age 25. She’s had her first “kit” I supplied her since age 7. I imagine it’s collecting dust in some drawer. I can tell you I’m not planning a party, howling at the moon or making her a mix tape. NOT that there’s anything wrong with it, but my kid would roll her eyes and run screaming.
Yep, she’s my girl, like it or not.
Blow up dolls. I CANNOT get past it. I’m sorry. Every time I see someone wearing bright red lipstick I do not get a visual of Marilyn Monroe, I get a blow up doll. My daughter’s friend came out of the mall with some on (thank you Sephora blow up doll mouth pusher) and I cringed. I wanted to yell, “Wipe your mouth AND cover your dirty pillows”, but I refrained.
Lord, where do I begin? First, bravo on your large family. I can relate. Came from a blended family of six myself. Fast forward to years of infertility and finally………. my child was born. My “only” child as most of you refer to her. The word “only” said with a slight question mark. “Oh, is she your “only” child?” Like I failed the mother earth child bearing contest. I quickly add I had a 36 hour unmedicated labor to boost my props, but usually a mother of five will top me with her hot tub, midwife, outdoor birth.
#1. “Oh, just one?”
(see above paragraph)
#2 “Only chidren are spoiled and don’t know how to share”
No, as a matter of fact, my kid shares no problem. She learned through us, then learned more socially with her peers. it’s how you raise them. It’s called, P.A.R.E.N.T.I.N.G.
#3 “Only children are lonely”
I like to think of my daughter as independent. She can pick up a pencil and drawing pad and “entertain” herself. She has many friends and, at times, wants to come home and “chill alone”. Sure, I will not knock the beauty of siblings, but we are teaching her young to make friends and watch those relationships grow in “family”.
#4 “only children act like mini adults.”
This would be better worded, “Some adults act like kids“. We do not ask the opinion of our child in finance, marriage or adult content, but we will do a family 5 minute discussion on who’s crap is lying all over (That would be dad).
I could go on, but this is just a brief example to enlighten the clueless. I’m glad you have a couple kids. How perfect you “Got” your girl and boy as planned. Please don’t feel sorry for me with my one, anymore then you would pity the mom of six.
At least I can brag about my carbon footprint.
So, for anyone with a blog, you have an option to see what people type in *Google* and end up on your page. The above title tells you my blog top searches. This makes me think, if I title all my posts with words like, boobs, anal, boobs (again)…… I will have a lot of traffic. In fact, “Tied Up Men” got 2300 hits, yet, Peanut allergy…… a mere 26.
The world today folks.
On another note. Anyone besides me get confused with people talk about their “Magic Bullet?” Am I the only one who thinks for a few seconds they are talking about their vibrator? Did the creators of The Magic Bullet even think for a minute that the #1 rated vibrator (ok, I made that up) is named The Bullet? The other day a guy said to me, “Oh the new Magic Bullet is way stronger.” Ummm…. ok? Wait, you’re talking about the juicer right? Which then gets me thinking, is there a difference between a vibrator and a dildo? Personally, I have neither, (NOT that there’s anything worng with them) but is the word “Dildo” OG? Is vibrator a classier term? Is it the battery part that makes the difference?
Ok, well, I’ll leave you with those questions. Feel free to school me if you know the answers.
Well, I don’t know about you, but Memorial Day weekend screams summer time kick off. Time for spray tans, landing strip waxings and good ol’ anal bleaching! Yes, it’s time for women to strip, tan and brighten.
Ok, I’ve come to realize I scored on the age I grew up in. The age after fire and the wheel were invented. I think about how much has changed regarding changing our bodies. No, I’m not going on a feminist rant where I say, “Accept your body and wear whatever you please.” I still abide by the rule of, “Just because they make it in your size does not mean you should wear it.”
I have a 9 year old daughter. Hence, the rant that follows.
Let’s look at summer. My childhood babysitter was the ocean. We grew up without sunscreen (not good) but also without G-Strings (good). You lived in a bikini all of the summer, and only covered up in shorts or a wrap skirt. As crazy as it seems, very few kids were obese. We moved our bodies all-the-time. EVERYONE went through the awkward teen years, some skipped the brutal part.
Boobs. Sure we all wanted BIGGER boobs, but how nice that it was not a surgical option? Perfect-Fake-Tits would have been hard to resist. The other day a friend posted on how she mowed the lawn braless, and after she removed her shirt later she realized she had enough lawn clipping under her boobs to fill a Glad Lawn and Leaf Bag. She’s my hero because 1. She’s funny and 2. She’s got real boobs that she accepts, lawn clipping or not. Now I will be clear, if you really want fake boobs, it’s your body, your ego, go for it. I’m not clear on the message it sends out there to boys and girls, A. Boys expecting perfectness and, B. girls wanting to provide it for said boys, but hey, it’s my job as a parent to inform my kid so, have at it perfect C cup. I just want to say most men I talk to over the age of 24 like real boobs of all sizes.
OK, so let’s move on to anal bleaching. Once, just a porn industry secret, now I’m getting Groupons for it. There used to be a funny little line women would joke amongst themselves, “I can’t believe I shaved my legs for that loser.” Now, fast forward to, “I can’t believe I bleached my anus for that loser.” Ok, for the sake of an arguement, maybe bleaching your anus IS a good idea for the new dating scene. I just know my husband would complain about the cost same as he complains about my rationalizing buying a pancake pan, “What? You can’t flip a pancake?” Which also begs to ask, “Is an anal bleaching technition job really something you want your kid to aspire too?” I save my ass for one person (no, not my husband) my gyno. End Scene.
Let’s talk about shoes. Mark was driving with me the other day and made a comment to me, “Wow, I can’t believe there are still hookers on Lincoln Blvd.” Uh, Mark, those are high school girls, see, they just walked onto Samo High campus. Enter hyperventilating SFX as he goes into a panic attack thinking of his own, soon-to-be 10 year old daughter, dressing like a stripper in Algebra 1. and can I just ask about the mad appeal of these shoes?