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.

The Quest to Find My "Star Player"

One of my favorite comedians is a shrimpy pimp-of-a-man named Katt Williams. His style isn't for everyone I suppose but it suits me to a "T". In one of his stand-up sets he talks about a man who ran for a living and who by some freakish force of nature became a double amputee and still continued to run. I'm posting the clip so you can witness this gem for yourself. Beware, he speaks cuss like it's flavored water.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_qlNEmpxQxI


So after struggling quite a bit in MANY areas of my life over the summer, I've determined that it's time I get in touch with my "star player". I fully believe that in order to get over yourself you must set aside a few moments to purge and spew your wicked thoughts and foul feelings about everything that bothers you... And then move on. I'm lucky enough to have one of the greatest bff's in the whole world with whom I can purge. But the time has come for me to SUCK. IT. UP! I've spent so much time this summer bitching and moaning about the heat and humidity and why I can't run in it that if I'd devoted 1/3 of that same effort to actually shutting up and running I'd probably be 10 pounds lighter by now. My right knee has been giving me some trouble but not enough to keep me off my feet, and my ankles are always stiff when I start my runs but seldom enough to make me stop. I have physical struggles (namely my hip and neck) that make some days more difficult than others but I really don't have much right to complain the way I do.


My son came in from school today talking about how much fun he had playing volleyball at P.E. Then he informs me that some of the kids blamed him for losing the game for his team because he missed some of the balls that came in his direction. I must admit that my boy is not the most athletically adept child and he's a bit shaky on his feet sometimes. He moves awkwardly and is more silly than savvy. But he has damn near unshakable confidence. He sings and dances and auditions for every major part in the annual school plays (and gets them too). And by the way, he does neither one very well... He wants to enter EVERY contest he hears about. He wants to be the winner and the best at everything. He came in 2nd in AR points last year and still mopes when he thinks about not winning the trophy. But it hasn't kept him from setting that same goal this year. He'll go back to school Monday and enjoy playing volleyball just as much as he did today because he's in touch with his star player. Michael Gene McCoy has the confidence that carries him through his scrapes and losses with a burning hope for better things to come. He believes in himself because he's never listened to a single soul who told him he "couldn't". What makes him so special is not that he wins or is the best at everything, it's that despite his losses he continues to believe he can be the best.  That's the star player I'm talking about! The one that loses and believes she wins because she had a great time giving it all she had. The star player gives a ball it's bounce and a tire it's tread. It gives dirt some flavor ('cause at some point most of us have to eat a little) and it's the bite that holds back the tears when all we want to do is feel sorry for ourselves...

My star player has been patiently waiting for me to arrive. I think I'll get in touch with her and go for a run.

Where do I sign up for "free"?

I have some pretty intense feelings about a hot topic we've dubbed "illegal immigration". I believe a case can be made for just about any side in this argument, however I believe there is only one logical basis for a decision: MONEY


I'm so tired of hearing the wanna be enlightened people say that white settlers were illegal immigrants when they landed in North America. It wasn't an established country, though there were inhabitants.There was a whole war fought that settled our rights as an independent nation (it was called The Revolutionary War). I can't wholey defend the way the white man pushed Indians from their land. It was crappy and even down right sad, but most of us are living in cutesy houses perched on the land our ancestors took from them.


So I'd like to get to the modern day issues if I may...We have laws in this country that determine how, when and if someone might gain legal entry into our borders. I believe we have enough laws in place to keep things fair, however I believe the enforcement of the laws are a bit bogus. If there was an actual functioning system that handled the applications for visas and citizenship in a timely fashion then people wouldn't feel so pressed to come here illegally in the first place. I think there needs to be a complete overhaul done on the manner in which we deal with the law abiding immigrants. That being said, if you are not a citizen of this country and you hop, skip or jump a border or over stay your visa then you are in fact residing in the United States ILLEGALLY! And if you are here illegally then I don't care what "legal" measures that our law enforcement officials use to move you out of here. I don't care if they use traffic stops, building sweeps, employment stings or a fake sweepstakes. As long as they load you on to a big truck and ship your ass back to the country you legally reside in, I don't care. And the reason that I don't care is rather simple. It's not because I'm a biggot. It's not that I don't believe people have a right to migrate and determine the life they want to live and move and live and work accordingly. It all boils down to money. It's basic economics and if you know how to add and subtract and you're a tax payer then you should really consider getting off of your enlightened high-horse and do some figuring. We'll start with something really simple like education. Each city and county collect taxes that help to support the school systems within their borders. The states then kick in some of it's collected tax revenues to help make up the difference. So we all agree that taxes pay for education. Right? Right! It costs each school district a certain amount of money to educate and feed each student. So if you have more kids going to school than you have tax dollars to pay for them, wouldn't you assume that it would be difficult to educate all of the children because there isn't enough money to do it? Let's say out of a class of 600 students, 70 are undocumented illegal immigrants, and of course you also have a percentage of students whose caregivers don't pay taxes because they do not work or own property and those students are also being educated for "free" essentially. So lets estimate that of these 600 students, there is enough revenue to pay for 490 of them. So the other 110 must still be educated and fed which means that you must spread your resources more thinly in order to accomodate all of them. You get fewer books, supplies and teachers. And then when the illegal immigrants graduate from high school they cannot legally obtain work therefore they do not pay taxes; But if they have children then their children are able to receive benefits like medicaid and food stamps. So the person you educated for free whose caregiver did not pay taxes, now has a child that more tax dollars go to help support because the parents aren't able to obtain work legally and pay into a system that they drain from. And if you work and live and pay taxes then you should be concerned that the people who come here under the guise of seeking a better life are actually exploiting this country, not embracing it. They're getting a better life alright. There are clinics, hospitals and health departments that provide them with health care (via your tax dollars) and we educate and provide abundant resources to their offspring as well (also via the taxpayer). Our family alone pays an approximate, combined total of $16,000 (not including social security and medicare) a year in taxes (property and income) and that doesn't include sales or advelorem taxes. I would like to think that our governement would spend a fraction of those dollars on things that I truly care about. I'd like for teachers, police officers and firemen to earn a decent, living wage. I'd like for the small county I live in to be able to build a new middle and high school. And quite frankly I don't understand what people don't get about the term "illegal". Noone has stated that people shouldn't be able to come to America and start a new life. This debate isn't about a right to immigrate. It's about the working, paying citizen's right to not have to support the immigrant financially. If you're an enlightened illegal immigrant lover and you love the idea of open borders so much then by all means, prove your strong support of the Native Americans and your belief that they were violated when your ancestors came to this country, and allow any illegal inhabitants of this country to come and take over the property you have worked and paid for. Give an illegal your home, your land, your clothing, your child's swing set! Give them whatever you feel might settle the 300 year old Native American score. But something tells me that if someone parked their party of 7 in a tent in your back yard, ate your food, demanded money and medicine, you might just call the police (whose job it is, incidentally, to see to it that people actually obey the law) and want the "immigrants" removed.

Our system is one of checks and balances, some are much more simple than we give them credit for. While the illegal immigrants hold up signs of protest and claim that law enforcement agencies target them for deportation, should they experience an emergency they would call 911 and expect the appropriate tax supported agency to respond to their call for assistance. But they don't feel that they should help support the very agencies they rely on? They should receive health care, education, social security and welfare - free. Now that's the life I want to live! Where do I sign up for that???

Where is Grace?

For weeks now I have carried heavy thoughts that I've been unable to commit to print. As with most things, I've chewed and stewed over this until it has lost all of it's flavor. I'm unsure how others will interpret my thoughts but I must present things as I see them and let the chips fall where they may...


For weeks and weeks I have been unclear in my direction. I haven't been able to focus or sleep. I have prayed for guidance like I never have before. And it seems that all I'm ever told is to "study the word". That's all God will say to me right now. I had only slept about 3 hours one night and woke at about 5 am. I couldn't go back to sleep because those words resounded with a BOOM! inside my head. I had to get up, go into my living room in the dark, early morning hours, curl up in my chair with eyes half peeled and "study the word". Begrudgingly I laid open my Bible and turned to Ephesians. In days prior to this I'd found myself very 'put off' by a lot of things I'd read in Genesis. It's jam packed with information and it jumps into things in a very out-of the blue fashion and the tone of it is very depressing in some areas. I'm not the biggest fan of King James anyway. His translation adheres to archaic Elizabethan English in which words like "advertise, suffer, filthy lucre, charity, gay clothing" no longer have literal meaning. It's difficult to understand and is phrased a bit backward by today's modern language standards. And it was well known even in his time that King James was a bit of a misogynist. BUT in rural south Georgia, it's hard to find a Bible that isn't the KJV. But despite my frustrations, I've also been told politely but kurtly by my God to "read from an untainted perspective". And so I've continued to study, not just read the Bible and I am trying desperately not to let the language discourage me or in some cases enrage me.You see, my story begins this way:


I had a very normal childhood and loving parents. However as a teenager I was raped by someone who was a few years older than myself and well known in the community I grew up in.. I spent 2 years being tormented by this person and a hand full of his friends. It got ugly, I got scared and then spent the next several years trying to run away if not literally, then emotionally. As a senior in high school, a friend of some friends forced himself on me in front of an apartment building and I managed to escape by staying incredibly calm. I amazed myself that evening. I have suffered some other minor incidents with men/boys like shoving, pushing, slapping, choking. I use the term "minor" loosely as I believe them to be major, yet small in comparison to the sexual abuses in terms of the lasting impact on me. But I am very fortunate to have my Daddy's love. He has been the strongest, most loving example of a man in my lifetime. I believe it's because of the greatness of that father-daughter bond that I pulled through and was able to greet sanity again, albeit years later. As a grown woman I can tell you that there is nothing, no relationship that compares or will ever compare to the one you share (or shared) with your father. Having a strong, stable, impenetrable relationship with him is a lifelong source of comfort and sanity even when experience with other men may try to tell you otherwise. And I was blessed a second time with the love of another great man, my husband.


It is very difficult and damned unpleasant to admit that in spite of my great blessings, I still hold a wealth of resentment and anger toward men as a whole. I would never show fear to them, but I am terribly afraid of men. As a woman, I know that a vast majority of dangers lurking in shadows are aimed at us. We are the prey, the weak, targets if you will! Most men will never know the fear that they can impose as they are rarely if ever the victims of kidnappings, rapes, torture, and sexually motivated murders. The number one cause of death among pregnant women is homicide (an unhappy statistic in case you were unaware). Wide interpretations of many different religions would have you believe that not only are women weak, but that we are here solely to serve and gratify men. That we should take no pleasure in life and certainly not in sex. Our greatest satisfaction should come from bringing men food, cleaning up after them, keeping house, giving birth to and rearing children. We are here for sex and work. The Islamic faith is very pronounced in it's demands for modesty and obedience among women. In many protestant and christian faiths it is accepted that women are weaker and meant to serve, be modest and give birth. Oh, and have long hair (she says with a snarl). People can often quote freely Ephesians 5:22 "Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord." but I seldom hear them follow it with verse 25 "She is to be loved like Christ loved the church." And if it weren't for my own reading I would never have known that Proverbs 31:28 says "...she is to be praised by her family". I suppose I just wasn't paying close enough attention the day the preacher (of one of the many churches I've quit) said "...men, if you don't have a job and your wife is telling you to get a job and take care of your family, if she just won't get off your back then men, I say rebuke your woman! Let her know that she will submit to you and that you will take care of what needs to be done when you, the man of the house are ready!" I had probably already gotten up and left in front of a full congregation when he talked about loving and praising women...


Many girls have suffered physical and or sexual abuses, some at the hands of their own family members. In turn they act out, are promiscuous and turn to drugs, alcohol, sexual encounters and a string of bad boyfriends and male companions in order to compensate for the destruction of their safety. Their internal fence has been torn down. The ability to feel justified in protecting their bodies and personal space has been crushed and yet we judge them and call them whores and see them as "less than..." because most of us have no idea why they're behaving this way. We think that perhaps they are fundamentally flawed. WE certainly don't believe that this girl's father, a deacon in the church and a city councilman, could ever abuse his child. He is not capable of such acts. We don't believe her because we cannot conceive of the evil in our midst; When the truth is that there is more sickness in this world than one person can comprehend. If you give any validity to statistical numbers then by pure reason you would deduce that you know at least a half dozen pedarists or sexual predators. But I bet you can't guess who they are... And so based on personal experience and knowledge of my fellow survivor's stories, I'm hoping that you see where my fear and mistrust has sprung from. If not, read no further and crawl back into your hole of denial. If you can at all follow my train of thought, please bare with me. I think this is actually going somewhere.

For years I've struggled with finding peace. I need for the noise inside my brain to give way to some quiet. I need for my heart to relax. I've prayed, even begged for answers, for quiet, and have yet to be answered in a way that gives me any clarity or direction. I'll continue to do as I'm told and "study the word" knowing that it will surely lead me in the right direction. It's not the answer I want but it's all I'm getting. However, it is terribly difficult to study the word of God from an un-tainted  perspective when my soul still wants to rebel against man, and why wouldn't it? When you have suffered at the hands of evil men it is not ridiculous to expect that you might have some difficulty in submitting to one even if he's not the one who hurt you.

Deep down I know that I am no less than my husband. I'm loved and worthy and no less a child of God. We are different but we are equal. I am made in his likeness and he is made in God's image. But I am still afraid and trying desperately to balance submission to my husband with the reality that some men are simply not worthy of being followed. In spite of or perhaps because of this struggle, in my prayers I thank God for the wonderful men he has placed in my life. I ask that he helps me to raise one. And I ask for his mercy and his grace. Because it's grace that makes our God so amazing afterall... It's being forgiven, even though I don't deserve it, no matter the sin. It's being blessed with the love of a great family, a loving husband, healthy children, a nice home, a best friend, a beautiful planet, taste buds, a sense of smell. The list goes on and on. I rely on grace from God to sustain me and yet I have a hard time showing grace and mercy to those around me, especially to those who have hurt me. It doesn't seem fair does it?

Perhaps the road to peace will be paved in forgiveness, mine and theirs... And maybe, just maybe I'll find that wickedness lies in the soul and not in a gender.