Possible alternative title: My vagina gives me much trouble in 2013. (Oh no, that’s so victim-blaming. Maybe try, how the current health care system failed my crotch! Or make it something about the lack of bike lanes! Or the dangers of a sedentary life style! The modern condition! I have many ways I can take this… )
Stadtmiller, recently profiled in the Observer as being a “gross over-sharer” and a “crazy woman” is dare-I-say it, fast becoming an inspiration to me. (Not linking to piece because it was rude and reeked of internalized misogyny.) I’ve always found Mandy’s writing fearless, and her transparent but self-deprecating style — she makes herself the butt of her jokes many times — has made me an admirer. I wish she talked about mental health more though, so I would feel less a fool.
So yeah, if my mother and my mate want to harass me about all these posts about my crotch, well, I am going to direct them to Mandy. I’m already getting slack from gamer males, whispering in my head-setted ear late at night while I try to take a control point or shoot a sniper, about me liking to slice my pussy — a reference to my Thought Catalog piece about my vagina. It’s unsettling, which was probably why they were doing it — to mess up my game — and I took the verbal abuse and shrugged it off without comment.
Anyway, see that photo above, of my favorite flats that I have been wearing since last summer? It is the perfect visual metaphor of how unstable my life has been, both mentally and physically.
Of all the things the grey-haired veteran journalist-types taught me before they were laid off, one was ringing true now: I must first take care of myself. Which explains all these posts about my crotch, see. I must take care of myself before I can take care of anyone else.
As you can probably guess by this post, the pain in my crotch woes continue because nothing is ever that quick-fix easy. (A lot of my other woes continue too like some same old Sam, including me failing at various work plans like leaving the house or sorting my freelancer issues, of which I now have 6. Ugh, help. Co-working spaces in Chicago, anyone?)
Once again, the pain is partially my doing too: I was too delighted this Sunday with having full hip rotation that I pulled a muscle – the psoas – in my crotch, right side. I was feeling sexy at the time, and still only partially regret it — having full movement made me so very confident. But then it came, like a punch from the universe. In my goddamn crotch. I floundered in bed for at least an hour sobbing from the pain, a long hot shower did nothing to soothe it, and I thought very seriously about going to the ER. I didn’t go, because what can they do besides fondle my crotch and give me painkillers I’d refuse to take?
It was quite possibly the worst pain I have felt since the accident, and I was limping well into the night. When the pain and the muscle spasms finally subsided around 3am, I masturbated furiously and to my satisfaction everything down there was still working. Thank the gods. Yeah, I am so male in that way, of wanting to make sure my junk is still fine. This way of thinking, as a woman, is a luxury in many parts of the world I realize.
(Is no one going to hire me full-time now that I mentioned masturbation in multiple posts? Am I a disgrace? These are interesting branding questions… questions Mandy probably knows the answer to.)
Speaking of Mandy, Stadtmiller gave me an interesting idea yesterday, about crowd-sourcing my medical bills. I don’t know if I am cool enough to pull it off, but I really do want some x-rays down there and actually go to a physical therapist instead of doing shit from home. I also think my last doctor missed some things. My essayist friend Rachel Rabbit White suggested I clean up my last post and submit it to xoJane, but I am unsure of what to focus on in the re-edit. If I do though, I would ask for some medical bill help.
I am officially getting tired of all this pain shit. I want to be running, dancing and biking already goddammit, but I know that is out of the question right now given walking normally is still a motherfucking problem. I feel like my crotch pain — what I’ve currently self-diagnosed as a grade 2 psoas strain — has been slowing me down for years. I am getting incredibly impatient with the limits of my body right now, if you can’t tell, and it is not helping my mental health or work issues. Ugh.
Not to end on a completely negative note; all this pain and self-reflection has forced me to slow down and re-evaluate things in my life. (Like, not freelancing for so many places, learning how to say no, figuring out better time management and what not, etc.) So, there’s that.
Dutch researchers have found pig hemoglobin in cigarettes:
The pig’s haemoglobin was found to be a fairly effective filter for cigarettes but this information was not on cigarette labels because the Tobacco industry was not required by law to disclose the ingredients of their products
via Ozcar Guide “Cigarettes Found To Contain Pig’s Blood“
The pig’s hemoglobin blocks toxic chemicals from entering the lungs. That is all fine and dandy, but cigarette companies really should disclose what is in their products. The new health care bill requires all restaurants to make their calorie counts publicly accessible, so why isn’t this the case with cigs? An Aussie Professor says it best:
‘It just puts into hard relief the problem that the tobacco industry is not required to declare the ingredients of cigarettes – they say “that’s our business and a trade secret”.’
If you are Jewish, Muslim, or a vegetarian, you now have another reason to quit smoking!
Purple purple everywhere. Purple shoes, jackets, blouses, shirts, ties, dresses, purses, belts- if your wardrobe needs updating, you buy purple, the fashionable color for the past two seasons (arguably, the color since last year). Why this color, the color long associated with royalty?
Do you remember those “Start Wearing Purple” ads by Yahoo? Where they referenced that gypsy punk song from 2005, “Start wearing purple“, by Gogol Bordello? This was around the same time that Yahoo changed their logo from red to purple. Did you see the date on that link? June 12th, 2008. Didn’t Michelle Obama wear a purple dress when her husband recieved the democratic nomination, on June 3rd? Michelle Obama wore a color that blended both political parties…. her color choice was symbolizing her husband’s willingness to work with both parties, to be bipartisan. Purple, the color that said everyone’s ideas would be incorporated, so we as a united nation could solve the many many problems that emerged during, out of, and because of, the last presidency’s handing of political and economic affairs.
Chances are, you have something purple in your closet, and it is new. So why are you wearing purple? Are you aware that fashion houses grabbed onto this color because they love Michelle Obama? I’ve acquired two purple items in the past couple of months- a blouse, and a pair of purple suede high heels (doubling my impractically purple suede heel count), and yeah, I respect the Obama administration and the idea of listening to everyone. Purple wearer, do you too believe in incorporating everyone’s ideas? Do you too want to be inclusive and fix the problems that plague America? Are you willing to listen to the other side? Are you willing to compromise?
The date that marks one year after Obama was elected is upon us, and news outlets are questioning Obama’s accomplishments. The most popular problem of the day is healthcare, and while most Americans believe our healthcare system is broken, the effort to fix this problem stops at party lines (whether it’s over fear-mongering, ignorance, or just plain party line stubbornness), with Olympia Snowe being the exception. All this big government, little government talk is getting us no where in fixing America, and Obama is the only known and willing compromiser. I don’t see much bipartisan action going on, but I sure do see a lot of purple. And frankly, it’s starting to make me sick.