Trapped as a Woman…again

The social pressures on the nation’s youths have changed throughout the years, no doubt. And I am sure I am not the first to complain about these handcuffs clamped too tightly around my wrists. Fifty years ago it was unthinkable for a woman to stay unmarried, have a career, be “successful”. For today’s young women (and I’m sure men, too but I am speaking from a woman’s perspective) there is immense pressure to not only get your high school diploma, but also to continue to college and post graduate work.

A successful woman is described as someone who has overcome the sexist business world, become a CEO of some company, makes more money than most men in her field, and has an apartment in downtown Chicago on the 42^nd floor with floor to ceiling windows so she can see the city skyline. She has overcome the traditional stereotype of the homemaker, mom, and housewife. If she is married, it isn’t her responsibility to have dinner on the table when her husband gets home from work. It isn’t her primary responsibility in life to raise the children, cook, and clean.

So this is supposed to be good, supposed to be progress for the gender of women. This image is what has been pushed upon me- what I should strive to become in life. A strong, independent, successful woman. Prove that I am equal to if not better than, any man. Shun the past; a real educated woman makes something of herself rather than submitting to the confines of the home.

So how does someone like me overcome those pressures? There was a fellow young woman who submitted the most beautiful secret to Post Secret. She said she didn’t want to graduate and have a job. She just wanted to be a mom. She didn’t want to say anything though, because she didn’t want to disappoint. I can totally relate- for those of us out there who wish and hope for that special day when you see two pink lines rather than just one; we are not alone. I truly believe there isn’t a more honorable and special way to spend your life than raising your children.

Sure, some woman out there is making a name for herself by managing an entire company. I’m proud of her- you go girl! For me, I would rather have a much stronger impact on just one, or maybe two, lives. Bring them into the world, teach them how things work, nurse them back to health, laugh and play with them, show them what is good and what is wrong.

I see your looks of pity, your shift in body language. I notice the change in the tone of your voice when you find out I am just 22 and want nothing more than to be pregnant. I am no less intelligent, no less driven, no less independent or strong than you are. I don’t judge you for following your dreams; please don’t judge me because I am following mine.

 

The Trojan Quandary

‘Trojan Condoms’ – what a wonderful phrase! It means no pregnancy, (for the time being) when I have sex! (Ha ha… For a second there the Hakuna Matata tune popped into my head!)

Anyway, today at lunch speak k[no]w, see k[no]w, and I were talking about an upcoming paper that speak k[no]w has to write.  I am not entirely sure what the exact assignment is, but she mentioned something about writing about Trojan condoms.  I started to think about what I would write about the contraceptives…

When I remembered the ‘Pleasure Pack’ that I bought last summer for my fiancé and myself.  I really (REALLY) like the Mint Tingle ones.  So much so that I have since bought that same Pleasure Pack repeatedly, just so we can use those ones again.  Well, after the third or fourth time shoveling out a hefty $13 for only two of my favorite condoms, I decided that it really wasn’t worth it.

I should just buy a package of Mint Tingle condoms! They sell individual boxes of Her Pleasure, Shared (warming sensations) Pleasure, and even Twisted Pleasure. (These ones are really cool. The part that goes on his head is twisted, so it gives him extra stimulation. More on these later.)  “Of course,” I thought to myself. “I’ll just find a Mint Tingle package since we don’t really like the other ones. Hmmm……they don’t seem to have them here. Maybe everyone else really likes them, too, and they are just sold out! OK, I’ll come back later.”

I did go back later. They didn’t sell them. “No biggie,” I reassured myself. “That other store around the corner surely will!” ALAS! I found myself standing dumbfounded in the ‘family planning’ section of countless convenient stores, Walmarts, Targets, K-Marts, grocery stores, gas stations, and yes – even rest area bathrooms. No one, anywhere, sold my favorite condoms EXCEPT in the Pleasure Pack. To say the least, I wasn’t getting much pleasure from buying a whole twelve count Pleasure Pack just so I could have a little Tingle when I was doing the dirty.

My thoughts then turned elsewhere. The Internet for sure wouldn’t let me down! You can get anything on the internet! Ok, well folks – the old wives’ tale has been thwarted. You can NOT get a box of just Trojan Mint Tingle condoms on the internet.

So what do I do?  I thought about sending a letter to Trojan, and calling them ridiculous for selling each kind of condom in the Pleasure Pack separately except for one.  I may still do that; I’m not sure.  To hold me and my hunny over until then, we’ve settled for the Tingling sensations KY personal lubricant.  It isn’t quite the same, but it will do just fine until something else can be arranged.  If any of you, beautiful blog readers, have ever heard of or seen a package of Mint Tingle Trojan condoms for sale – PLEASE send me a note! 

Oh, right. I was supposed to go back to the Twisted Pleasure kind. Umm, they are ok, just not the best. I have been a little…..disappointed. (Sort of left hanging, if you catch my drift?) They aren’t the best. Use them for when you are just using your hand, makes things go a little quicker and provides for easier clean up.  ‘Til next time, I can’t think of anything crafty to put here. G’nite! 

On Being a Woman Who Loves Women

Some of the great things about being a lesbian are that lesbians generally have a more egalitarian relationships than straight people, their partners are more often their best friends, and it’s the most amazing sex. Oh, and of course, when you’re a woman in a relationship with another woman, you end up with two wardrobes instead of one. Score.

There are, however, some downsides. The biggest issue being, in my opinion, that you have two periods to contend with instead of one.

Now, as many women know, when you get close to another woman, your hormone levels tend to match up, and your periods start to come at around the same time. And that’s not just lesbians – it’s mothers and daughters, best friends, roommates… That should mean that my girlfriend and I, after being together for a year and a half, and living together for a good deal of that time, would have our periods at pretty much the same time of the month.

Well, sometimes, things just don’t work out like that.

So, we have two weeks out of every month (instead of just one, like those lucky straight people) where we are forced into limited sexual activity. (Which, apparently, my girlfriend is thankful for because I wear her out. I don’t even know what to say to that.) And, there’s no other way to say this…

It just plain SUCKS.

Not to mention, we spend so much money on tampons.

But I guess we spend less money on condoms.

-see k[no]w

Prideful and Envious

Every week as I sit down to watch my favorite television show—The Biggest Loser—I am both proud of the contestants and envious. I am proud of the men and women who turn over a new leaf and work to obtain a healthy lifestyle. I even become emotionally attached to these people and shout words of encouragement at the TV during challenges. However, I am also envious of their perseverance and determination to regain control of their life and their health. Although I could stand to lose a few pounds, I am not overweight, but I am afraid that I could become overweight. As I sit on the couch and watch the contestants enduring grueling “last chance workouts,” I shovel handfuls of popcorn or spoonfuls of ice cream into my mouth. Many of the people in my family are overweight—some probably morbidly obese. When I hit my early twenties, I noticed definite changes in my body and I can tell that my metabolism took a nosedive. I’ve put on 30 pounds in the last four years and only the first 15-20 pounds were a healthy weight gain following my extremely poor eating habits in high school. A limited budget and a diet of awful college dining hall food are only exacerbating the issue. Recently I’ve felt very sluggish and my confidence in my ability to turn this train around is waning. So, I guess I’ll go sit on the couch, watch The Biggest Loser, and try to glean some motivation from the extraordinary work this season’s contestants are doing.

 -speak k[no]w

Everybody judges, at least we’re honest about it

Well hello there, friendly readers…or should I say not so friendly? Apparently my humble, innermost feelings come across as bigot-like and ass hole-ish. Well, fellow bloggers, I am oh so sorry to have given that impression of myself. There are (until now) three people on the planet who know my disdain for the overweight; they are see k[no]w, speak k[no]w, and myself, hear k[no]w. I am a rather friendly, loving and welcoming person; just yesterday a new acquaintance left me a beautiful card saying that she felt like I was her big sister. (Not the first time I have received such a comment.)

My point: I have kept hidden my dislike for the overweight because I am not an evil person. (And no…in case you were wondering, I do not have any tattoos, I am not Pagan, and I do not think that 150 pounds is really all that fat….even if you are of shorter stature; I myself weigh a hefty 165! Fat = 300lbs.+) I try to find the good in everyone, and for those out there- congratulations on thinking you aren’t the judging type. However, in your hasty rage it is quite obvious that you judge others, too. I bet you are the type that will flip the bird quickly at a passing car that seemingly just cut you off. You were certainly quick to judge me- little angel that you are. For your information, the last time you flipped that pretty little bird at me, I didn’t see you pulling out there- sorry.

Maybe next time my little blog entry will include my thoughts on how irritating and immature it is when people who are writing or talking use instant messenger acronyms. Seriously, people- learn how to spell, it doesn’t take that much more time to write out the entire words “oh my God”….and really, a “z” doesn’t belong in front, no matter how hip you think you are.

-hear k[no]w

In The Raw

What a joy it is to be greeted back at school after a long winter break by the aroma of grease and burgers wafting across campus. It is also a pleasure to endure stomachaches and a cycle constipation followed by diarrhea for the first two weeks of classes while your body is adjusting to an additive in the food served by the dining hall.

I pay almost $2500 a semester for the food service at my school. I’m not sure how that money is justified when I get absolutely no service and the food provides zero nutrition and is not edible. No less than six times have I been served raw or undercooked meat in the dining hall. This is inexcusable!  I don’t pay $13 a meal to have slimy chicken slapped on my dirty plate, rotten dressing poured over my unwashed spinach, and food particle-encrusted glasses to drink from. Unfortunately, our food plan is not optional. Everyone that can’t afford to shell-out five grand and pay for groceries either has to eat Ramen noodles everyday or worse—the shit the dining hall serves.

-speak k[no]w 

The Nose Knows

This is a blog for those rants that we, the authors, consider funny; they aren’t always going appropriate or well-liked views. But I feel like my opening entry is something that everyone can understand and sympathize with. I know anyone who reads this has at one point experienced this particularly irritating situation.

It’s a person you see everyday – another regular on the bus, a coworker, someone who sits near you in class. You can’t stand this person. You try to come up with other reasons for not liking them, but the truth is that they could be the nicest individual you’d ever met, and you still wouldn’t like them.

This is because they smell.

And not just once in awhile, oh no. Everyone has their days where maybe they’ve had to run to the bus stop because they were running late, or something. But these people smell every day. You dread the stop where this person boards and the bus suddenly seems too small, you want to start clawing at the windows just so you can have somewhere to jump off. You sit at your desk all day, anxiously drafting an escape plan, just in case that person comes to see you in your office. Should you just start shouting about uncontrollable diarrhea and escape to the bathroom?

I have one of these people in my class. And for some reason, he sits near me!! Hey, kid, I was here first! You can’t scare me away from the good seats with your stench!

But this person in doesn’t just smell, he reeks. I mean, this kid smells so bad that he has to be trying. How could you smell so awful and not know? I can’t concentrate because I find myself wondering when the last time he showered was. Has he discovered soap?

…Or maybe it’s his clothes! Does he know that the clothes go inside the washer? With the detergent? Can he not afford detergent? Who wouldn’t be willing to just give him some?

But mostly I wonder what we all wonder when we have one of these oh so endearing people in our lives: Should I tell him? Over and over, I debate this. Yeah, I think, definitely. Everyone would thank me.

But when it really comes down to it, I just don’t know how to tell someone that they smell. I could just shout it across the room to him. I could send him an anonymous note. I could actually approach him, smile, as I try not to breathe through either my nose or my mouth (Smelling it is bad enough, but tasting it… eugh), and hand him a bar of soap.

Something must be done. I might not survive the semester otherwise.

-see k[no]w

Washboard Legs and Tight Jeans

I do not have a problem with everyone. In fact, I am generally a nice person. An easy to get along with, friendly, welcoming person. I don’t care about gender, race, political affiliation, sexual preference, nationality, or even what kind of hair you have- HOWEVER, if you are fat- you piss me off. There are, granted, a few fat people that don’t bother me. For example, the people on Biggest Loser. In other words, the fat people who hate themselves for being fat and are actually doing everything in their power to make themselves healthy. And I don’t mean the cop out ‘get surgery’ quick fix of getting thin. I mean the people really working hard to change their life style, eating habits, and exercise habits so that they will enjoy a longer, healthier life.

I look around at my fellow Americans and think- DAMN! If we could all just eat a little less, and walk a little more- the continent of North America could probably rise a few inches, giving places like Florida and San Francisco a little breathing room when it comes to the threat of oceans rising from global warming.

Back to what I hate about fat people. Have you ever noticed that very few know how to dress for their body type? I can’t tell you how many rolls I can count when I simply walk through the mall! You have clothes to COVER YOUR BODIES people! Cotton t-shirts shouldn’t be screaming at the seams because your over-sized bulging waste line doesn’t fit! Not to mention, those skin tight jeans…ok, on some girls, it can be pretty hot. Fine- but those girls are one in a million, and do not have cottage cheese cellulite coming out of their ears. If it sounds like a stick on a washboard when you are shaving….you shouldn’t be wearing hip-huggers.

OK, one final soap box rant till I’m finished. Speak K[no]w, See K[no]w, and I were talking about a great study we would like to conduct. We are wondering about what makes fat people…well, fat. Is it how much they eat? What they eat? A combination? We propose monitoring the dessert table in our lovely (note sarcasm…more to come in later posts) dining hall. Are the people who frequent the trays full of high fructose corn syrup, dextrose, confectioner’s glaze, mono & diglycerides, etc. all fat? Are the fat ones the only ones who go up for seconds, thirds, sevenths? Do the fat people stuff their pockets after their twelfth helping? Or am I completely wrong…which is entirely possible; is it only the anorexic-ly thin exercise fanatics the ones who crave sweets? An interesting possibility.

Till next time…keep it fit.

-hear k[no]w