In Your FACE!

I've always taken notice of the way women, young girls especially are objectified in everything from a Burger King commercial to a print add for lawn mowers. I'd like to be clear about something though... I am not a prude. I don't object to strip clubs, pornography, sex toys, toy stores, toy parties, penis cakes or birth control. I think consenting adults should be able to explore, enjoy and engage in whatever activities they deem fit. I've only ever had one rule: Don't use kids or animals. So, with that being said I'll get to my point.

I'm tired of seeing overly sexualized women in teensy shorts and cut off shirts sucking their finger while they water the grass as the tubby hubbies huff and puff past her lawn on foot on their way to Burger King. I'm sick of googling things like "dolphin cay" and getting a big fat picture of some 120 lb girl in a bikini, boob wrestling a fish. I'm sick to death of interviews with pin up girls who say that they like to eat hot wings and watch football on Sundays while they hang out with the boys because "really, I'm just a goofball and have always been considered one of the guys." I don't need giant breasts to sell me on a shampoo anymore than I need twinkies to sell me on a car. There is NO correlation between those things. I understand that "sex sells" and that's great. Let sex sell something that has to do with sex. If people who are selling sex want to look sexy then by all means, that's what they should do. If I go into an adult video store and want to know which one I should rent, chances are I'll look at the cover and make my determination based on who I'd like to see naked. I don't need some woman's rubber balls, size 38DD's in my face at a baseball game trying to peddle popcorn to my son. And I certainly don't need to see anymore crotch teasers on Girls Gone Wild video commercials. I realize that some girls go wild, Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears did it. Hell, even mall rat, Tiffany grew up and posed nude for Playboy. As far as I know there has never been a shortage of sex in the world. If all of a sudden, people stopped cold, NO MORE SEX! I might understand the need for all of the tantalizing imagery. But since strangers on Myspace are still offering it (at no charge I might add) I think the world is safe from bunny hunching extinction.

I have to raise a son and a daughter in this world and I hope to be able to instill in both of them that they are valuable. I want my daughter to love herself and never think that she has to display her body in order to obtain anything meaningful in her life. Not a job, a partner, attention or a damn dollar. She's amazing and brilliant and gifted and beautiful. And that had damn-well better be enough for any boy that comes near her!

I want my son to love himself and know that he's smart and kind and brave and strong. He will be enough for any woman with sense enough to understand that abusive jerks aren't worth their time. I never want either one of them to see this:
















and think it's anything other than a gimmick devised at grabbing their attention and pulling it away from what really matters when it comes to women. I don't take my son to Hooters and encourage him to "love the ladies" and enjoy the breasts. I don't sit him down to watch the Hawaiian Tropic contest and I'm not taking him to Mexico on Spring Break so he can participate in the gang rape of a girl who drank too damn much tequila. And if people don't think that perpetuating macho, piggish behavior in their little boys will aid in their growing up to become date rapists and womanizers then they're sadly mistaken. If our sons and daughters aren't taught how to behave and treat one another, then when they get older they'll make big mistakes... Some they might regret forever.

Everyone has a "button" I guess. And the over sexualization of women is one of mine. I detest the way women allow themselves to be portrayed and treated. And I despise the men who try to mold and shape their women into the Playboy images they grew up fantasizing to in their bathrooms. The women who let men do that to them are just as guilty. And as a man, if you don't like small breasts, little butts, big thighs, wide-set shoulders or short hair then don't date or marry someone with those features! It's just that simple. If you think that 9 months of growing another person in your body and then squeezing it out or having it cut out isn't going to change a few things on a woman's body, you're in for a shocker. And what in the hell gets into men anyway??? I know men who have these crazy images of what women are supposed to look like in their heads but in reality, they themselves look like shit. They have guts and their weight fluctuates (pretty badly). One of them has a huge nose, spaghetti hair and bad breath. Give me a break. I don't need someone judging me or telling me what to wear or what I need to have operated on. I need someone who tells me for 12 years straight that he'll divorce me if I get breast implants, he thinks everything about my body is amazing and that he wouldn't change a single thing. Because you know what? In spite of all of my imperfections and flaws, I believe the man. I pick myself apart and he puts me back together every single time. THAT is what makes us people. Not reproducing, indiscriminant, humping beasts with no soul... Although I could name a few "people" who fit into that category, but they're mostly on a tv show called The Jersey Shore.

The Race Within

So! I ran my first 5k with my best friend by my side. We had a great time and it was a wonderful first race for the both of us. I think we came away from it a little more comforfortable with the idea of doing even more races... It was certainly not my best time for 3.1 miles. My ankles caught fire about .3 of the way in and didn't let up until after the first mile. This is a fairly common problem for me but not generally to this degree. I have a lot of body pain on a regular basis because of the condition of my spine, neck and right hip. I have limitted range of motion and regardless of my painstaking warm-ups, I still feel very "crunchy" after I run. I push through it most of the time but on occasion I just sit back and whine like an obnoxious baby. All of that being said I was still immensely proud of myself and of Jenny. She showed an enormous amount of courage and steadfastness. I think we both needed one another for this race.

If there's anything that running has taught me, it's that I need to be kinder to myself. 2009 was not an easy year for me in many aspects (especially physically). When I started feeling better I made a promise to myself that when I was able, I would take advantage of it and not waste my capable body any longer. I've spent years mentally bashing myself for all the things I'm not. I've hated my thighs to the point that I'm actually surprised they haven't left me. I've beaten myself up over not being a perfect home maker, mother, wife, daughter, sister or not being organized, on top of things, perfect! I can ususally give myself a hard time over just about anything. But in the last few months that's started to change. I've slowly begun to realize that I can't be mean to the person I'm relying on to carry me over great distances. I can't pick on the body that, though it's in excruciating pain, still stumbles out of bed and bullies me down my city streets on foot. It's hard to dislike someone who's doing more than you thought they were capable of, and that person is me. I'm running a constant race. One that I know I'm never going to win, and that's alright. I want to keep running, to keep racing, pacing myself and absorbing my own rhythm. I want this struggle. I need the journey a hell of a lot more than I need to arrive.

Beating the Bible

I grew up in the rural southeastern part of the United States. Georgia. Southern, middle Georgia to be more precise. We went to church (Methodist) every Sunday and sometimes on Wednesday. I also got to sample other churches by attending with friends of different denominations. I liked getting to see how other people worshiped. Sometimes it was solemn and ritualistic; sometimes it was down right scary, especially during revival week which I was always invited to attend because my friend never wanted to go it-alone. (I think they spooked her a little too.)And then a few churches were delightful and upbeat. People sang and clapped and let out an "Amen!" or a "that's right" and sometimes you'd hear a "You got that right!" That was mostly in the Pentecostal churches though. They were my favorite to visit because the members seemed the most genuine and were always glad to see a new face and told you so from the time you entered until you left. I've always wished there were a greater variety of churches in South Georgia so that I could sample all of them... With the exception of one or two. :) I'd pick a different church every week if I could.

Most of my childhood friends attended church regularly and this was a part of life that we all accepted. It was part of who we were, what we did and why we complained so much on Wednesdays. And although our families concerned themselves with our eternal well-being, I don't recall too many of them going overboard either. I recollect only one mother condemning myself and her daughter to hell if we didn't keep the Sabbath. The rest of the parents were... well... normal? They even acted as though they expected us to complain about having to go to church "all the dang time!" I bring up this point for one reason alone... Some of the people I grew up with are now religious "Bible Beaters" and "Jesus Freaks" and I don't know where this came from. I don't mean that they took the teachings of childhood and parlayed that into a Godly life. I mean some of them are just nuts! There are a mild few who simply attend church, count their blessings and invite you to services. But quite a few of them can't spend 30 seconds on Facebook, Twitter, texting or any other messaging medium without quoting Bible verses or speaking Christianese: A language dubbed by myself and my bff as what the overly religious speak. If you say you're having a bad day, instead of "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?", you get "Praise Jesus! He'll guide your steps today. Just give it to God and know you're washed in the blood 'cause you have a Savior and his name is Jesus. Hallelujah!" The language is confusing and mostly unnecessary. Unfortunately it's generally pretty fake too. The people who speak Christianese are far different from the ones who try to genuinely provide comfort with a kind word and a remembrance to pray for you. And I seem to know an awful lot of people who speak Christianese. When we played together as ten year olds, I don't remember hearing their parents speak that way and I know they weren't raised in a generic religious climate. Perhaps it's a sign of the times and the political push for all conservatives to be church-goers of some sort. For a while that distraction left people scrambling for their Bibles so they could "prove" their beliefs had something to do with the Constitution? But anyway, I digress...

I want to know what happened to the wacky kid who tore off her Barbie's heads? Or what happened to the fella who kissed me in the 11th grade and said if I didn't go out with him more he'd hang around outside my house until I did? What in the world happened to the sweet girl who said her first curse word when we were in Belk's in 1993? Why are they all beating the Bible and preaching with every flip of their tongues? What happened to the flippity, whimsical people I once knew? When did they turn into disengenuine, religulous, defectors? Perhaps we didn't take away the same lessons from Sunday School. Maybe the message they got was that it's better to sound like a Christian than to actually be one. Whatever happened, I know that I'm glad it didn't happen to me... for all that's worth. I know a man who quotes scripture all the time and can't wait to 'minister' to you, but he jumps at the chance to rendezvous with young girls behind his wife's back. I also know a man who seldom says a word, let alone quotes from the Bible, and if you even hint that you have a need, he'll be there to lend a hand. I can only hope I'm right about which man God would have represent him in the world...

Hold Tight

Since my children were very small I've reached into the back seat of the car when we were traveling to hold their hands. I've done it for any number of reasons... When they're tired or cranky, when they're afraid or when they're bored, I reach back and grab their little hands and hold on to it for as long as I can, or until my arm goes to sleep. On our last trip to and from West Virginia a couple of weeks ago I realized for the first time, when I reached back to take hold of my daughter's hand that I was not only taking it for her comfort but for mine as well. I felt my heart swell as she grasped my hand and we sat for several minutes in silence staring at the unfamiliar winding roads ahead. On the return trip home from West Virginia I had a similar experience with my son. On both of these occasions I found myself wishing that I could hold on to them forever. If I could go through life holding their small hands I might never be afraid again. I hope that they feel as strong and soothed holding my hand as I do holding theirs.