Rove and his "immunity" claim. Sanchez can bitch all she wants but until someone gets some backbone and hauls these horse's asses up short it will be "same story different day."
Rove is a No-Show
That's from Mother Jones, too.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Dealing with a Feckless Homunculus
OK, dear readers, I have mulled this problem with SS over a bit and here are some conclusions I have come to:
Since he is convinced against all evidence to the contrary that he is an Adult, he will be treated like one.*
Adults have some defining characteristics. #1 is responsibility for one's own actions.
Therefore, since SS believes he is an adult, he is now responsible for the consequences of any ill-advised course of action he takes.
It is very easy to be an Adult when you aren't the one who has to clean up the messes you make by your foolishness.
Therefore, don't talk to me about your problems, little boy, you've brought this on yourself by your blind insistence that you know everything there is to know about life.
You have doctor bills because you were acting stupid?
You're an adult. Pay them
You put your car in the ditch?
Fine, adults figure out what to do in a situation like that. Fix it.
You let someone drive your car and they wrecked it?
Tough. Not my problem. You're an adult, aren't you?
You jumped your skateboard off some steps and broke your arm?
Gee, who would have foreseen that? An adult.
You and your homunculus buddies trespassed on private property and are being taken to court?
Go to court yourself. It isn't my problem.
You think you're an adult? OK, Big Boy, run with it and see how far you get.
It's not my problem.
ETA: Well, well, well. Just talked to Himself. He had spoken to SS, who wanted to snivel about how unfair I am, and told the kid right out that we are in agreement about this decision. We both agree that he will never learn in any other way. It will be damned hard for him but he is extremely stubborn, not to speak of passive-aggressive, and since he won't learn the easy way? It'll be the other way.
*To the fullest extent I believe wise.
Since he is convinced against all evidence to the contrary that he is an Adult, he will be treated like one.*
Adults have some defining characteristics. #1 is responsibility for one's own actions.
Therefore, since SS believes he is an adult, he is now responsible for the consequences of any ill-advised course of action he takes.
It is very easy to be an Adult when you aren't the one who has to clean up the messes you make by your foolishness.
Therefore, don't talk to me about your problems, little boy, you've brought this on yourself by your blind insistence that you know everything there is to know about life.
You have doctor bills because you were acting stupid?
You're an adult. Pay them
You put your car in the ditch?
Fine, adults figure out what to do in a situation like that. Fix it.
You let someone drive your car and they wrecked it?
Tough. Not my problem. You're an adult, aren't you?
You jumped your skateboard off some steps and broke your arm?
Gee, who would have foreseen that? An adult.
You and your homunculus buddies trespassed on private property and are being taken to court?
Go to court yourself. It isn't my problem.
You think you're an adult? OK, Big Boy, run with it and see how far you get.
It's not my problem.
ETA: Well, well, well. Just talked to Himself. He had spoken to SS, who wanted to snivel about how unfair I am, and told the kid right out that we are in agreement about this decision. We both agree that he will never learn in any other way. It will be damned hard for him but he is extremely stubborn, not to speak of passive-aggressive, and since he won't learn the easy way? It'll be the other way.
*To the fullest extent I believe wise.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Crash
SS's nickname is Crash for a good reason. He has broken bones, done dumb stuff and generally is just a total loss as far as forethought is concerned.
DS2 and 3 just look at him and shake their heads...
Today, well, yeah. He was supposed to go the the swimming pool but evidently he and his idiot buddies decided against that. So, they would ride mopeds.
Mopeds that didn't belong to them.
Crash, true to his nick, crashed someone else's moped. Mashed his face into the gravel, took most of the skin from his face and some off an upper gum.
They didn't steal the mopeds, either. The little girlie owners thought it would be cool to have the "boarders" ride their scoots so... now we have a whole friggin' mess.
SS being watched for a concussion, possible lawsuit from the moped's owners, insurance liability problems.
Gawd, when does it end?
I can't think of anything so bad that I have done to deserve this. And now... well, now Crash has a CAR!!!!!
God have mercy, civilization (or whatever it is now) may come to a screeching halt. Earth will blow up, sun will go out. Argh.
DS2 and 3 just look at him and shake their heads...
Today, well, yeah. He was supposed to go the the swimming pool but evidently he and his idiot buddies decided against that. So, they would ride mopeds.
Mopeds that didn't belong to them.
Crash, true to his nick, crashed someone else's moped. Mashed his face into the gravel, took most of the skin from his face and some off an upper gum.
They didn't steal the mopeds, either. The little girlie owners thought it would be cool to have the "boarders" ride their scoots so... now we have a whole friggin' mess.
SS being watched for a concussion, possible lawsuit from the moped's owners, insurance liability problems.
Gawd, when does it end?
I can't think of anything so bad that I have done to deserve this. And now... well, now Crash has a CAR!!!!!
God have mercy, civilization (or whatever it is now) may come to a screeching halt. Earth will blow up, sun will go out. Argh.
I'm not nuts
Since I have been working outside, staining wood, messing with a car, planting things, I'm a bit messy. Jeans with hole in right knee, rolled up to knees. Tshirt with grease stains. Jeans have grease stains, sawdust, wood stain and dirt on them, overshirt with rolled up sleeves. Stained, too.
I came in a couple of hours ago because it got too blasted hot and muggy to work out in the sun. Himself called and wondered what was for supper. I suggested tuna salad, tater salad and cole slaw. He thought that sounded just fine but I'd need to go get more tuna. That meant a trip to the market.
Since I go there frequently and am well acquainted with many of the other customers and many of the employees, I don't normally worry too much about what I look like. Today, though, I thought I had better change clothes, take a shower and then go.
Today, I thought again.
It will be necessary to go back outside in a couple of hours because I have more things that need to be stained before it rains. (Which it supposed to do this evening.) They need to sit in the sun for an hour or two to let the stain age a bit. (or whatever wood stain does on wood in the sun.)
I would have to be nuts, at least in some people's view, to go to the store in my work clothes.
So be it. I went. In these clothes.
I figured, in actuality or any logical universe, I would have to be nuts to take a shower, change my clothes, run to the store for a quick in-and-out, then come back, change back into these clothes and go back to working outside.
Note to the two VWF in the cute but odd-colored capris, cutie-pie tees, sandals, earrings and makeup: Did it appear to you that I gave a flying f*ck when you looked me up and down, then turned away with disgusted expressions on your faces? You probably figured that out when I smiled broadly at you and chortled a bit as I strode by. Veni Vidi Vici in HyVee.
I came in a couple of hours ago because it got too blasted hot and muggy to work out in the sun. Himself called and wondered what was for supper. I suggested tuna salad, tater salad and cole slaw. He thought that sounded just fine but I'd need to go get more tuna. That meant a trip to the market.
Since I go there frequently and am well acquainted with many of the other customers and many of the employees, I don't normally worry too much about what I look like. Today, though, I thought I had better change clothes, take a shower and then go.
Today, I thought again.
It will be necessary to go back outside in a couple of hours because I have more things that need to be stained before it rains. (Which it supposed to do this evening.) They need to sit in the sun for an hour or two to let the stain age a bit. (or whatever wood stain does on wood in the sun.)
I would have to be nuts, at least in some people's view, to go to the store in my work clothes.
So be it. I went. In these clothes.
I figured, in actuality or any logical universe, I would have to be nuts to take a shower, change my clothes, run to the store for a quick in-and-out, then come back, change back into these clothes and go back to working outside.
Note to the two VWF in the cute but odd-colored capris, cutie-pie tees, sandals, earrings and makeup: Did it appear to you that I gave a flying f*ck when you looked me up and down, then turned away with disgusted expressions on your faces? You probably figured that out when I smiled broadly at you and chortled a bit as I strode by. Veni Vidi Vici in HyVee.
What next?
Was just reading a post on another website where a pregnant woman was asking if it is OK for her to eat bleu cheese. She's been told to stay away from any of the different varieties of blue cheese, soft cheese, deli meats, eggs, on and on and on and on.
Food poisoning, listeria, bacteria, sickness, plague, pestilence and general stupidity.
Now, honest, I am not saying this lady (who I know slightly) is dumb. Really, I'm not. I know her to be a funny and smart woman.
What I am wondering about is what the hell the purpose of all this "DON'T EAT THAT THERE IS A HORRIBLE RISK OF CONTAMINATION! YOUR BABY WILL BE BORN WITH 4 ARMS AND THREE EYES!"
The Powers That Be seem to have lost all sense of perspective. I can't imagine how the human race survived all these aeons by being so foolish as to eat whatever they could find.
Since when did we give the guvmunt license to freak us out on a whim? They don't even seem to be able to find the source of the latest salmonella outbreak, how could they possibly figure that some poor schmuck is going to get listeria from bleu cheese?*
Current medical advice is, regardless of a short-lasting craving, don't follow it. Never, ever, ever, under any circumstance, listen to what your body is telling you. Listen to the guvmunt talking heads. After all, they're Official.
That's stupid. That is just damnably, incredibly, shortsightedly STUPID. Has anyone heard of someone craving rat poison? Or 2-4D? Poison of any kind? Toilet bowl cleaner? Antifreeze? Arsenic? If there is a documented instance of this, I want to know. Other than people who shouldn't be pregnant in the first place, people's body's are not going to send them off on some hell-bent quest for something that will kill the baby or make both of them sick. If the body is even in moderate balance and moderate health, it simply is contrary to any evolutionary biology to imagine such a suicidal action.
This particular poster has a history of miscarriage, which certainly is a concern. In darned near every case where that happens, other than mischance or accident, there is a real reason for the miscarriage. I would be willing to be it isn't because the woman ate bleu cheese.
My experience isn't scientifically valid, true, but I ate anything and everything, including farm eggs and raw milk, sardines, soft cheese. My kids were, and are, happy and healthy.**
My final observation is this: medicine is not a science. It is more of an art. Doctors change their minds on a regular basis. What is bad this week will be good next week. Medicine has careened wildly between opposing opinions: vitamins vs. no vitamins, no solid food before 1 year vs if they're hungry feed them, 10 vaccinations vs 3, on and on and on and on. This will continue. It's good to be informed but it isn't good to slavishly follow vacillating opinion. Listen to your body. Just listen.
*Anyone who has the slightest acquaintance with me knows this whole thing just sets me off. In my mind, it's an official equivalent to those damned disinfection commercials. What person in their right mind is listening to commercials that tell us to disinfect every last surface in out homes? And worse, then DOING it? I don't even bleach my cutting boards, or countertops. I put the boards in the dishwasher and then put them away. Get thee back, sodium hypochlorite, get thee from my sight. Hence, vile concoction!
** There were complications in all the deliveries but that is an endocrine problem on my part. My single miscarraige came very early and I doubt that had anything to do with anything I ingested.
Food poisoning, listeria, bacteria, sickness, plague, pestilence and general stupidity.
Now, honest, I am not saying this lady (who I know slightly) is dumb. Really, I'm not. I know her to be a funny and smart woman.
What I am wondering about is what the hell the purpose of all this "DON'T EAT THAT THERE IS A HORRIBLE RISK OF CONTAMINATION! YOUR BABY WILL BE BORN WITH 4 ARMS AND THREE EYES!"
The Powers That Be seem to have lost all sense of perspective. I can't imagine how the human race survived all these aeons by being so foolish as to eat whatever they could find.
Since when did we give the guvmunt license to freak us out on a whim? They don't even seem to be able to find the source of the latest salmonella outbreak, how could they possibly figure that some poor schmuck is going to get listeria from bleu cheese?*
Current medical advice is, regardless of a short-lasting craving, don't follow it. Never, ever, ever, under any circumstance, listen to what your body is telling you. Listen to the guvmunt talking heads. After all, they're Official.
That's stupid. That is just damnably, incredibly, shortsightedly STUPID. Has anyone heard of someone craving rat poison? Or 2-4D? Poison of any kind? Toilet bowl cleaner? Antifreeze? Arsenic? If there is a documented instance of this, I want to know. Other than people who shouldn't be pregnant in the first place, people's body's are not going to send them off on some hell-bent quest for something that will kill the baby or make both of them sick. If the body is even in moderate balance and moderate health, it simply is contrary to any evolutionary biology to imagine such a suicidal action.
This particular poster has a history of miscarriage, which certainly is a concern. In darned near every case where that happens, other than mischance or accident, there is a real reason for the miscarriage. I would be willing to be it isn't because the woman ate bleu cheese.
My experience isn't scientifically valid, true, but I ate anything and everything, including farm eggs and raw milk, sardines, soft cheese. My kids were, and are, happy and healthy.**
My final observation is this: medicine is not a science. It is more of an art. Doctors change their minds on a regular basis. What is bad this week will be good next week. Medicine has careened wildly between opposing opinions: vitamins vs. no vitamins, no solid food before 1 year vs if they're hungry feed them, 10 vaccinations vs 3, on and on and on and on. This will continue. It's good to be informed but it isn't good to slavishly follow vacillating opinion. Listen to your body. Just listen.
*Anyone who has the slightest acquaintance with me knows this whole thing just sets me off. In my mind, it's an official equivalent to those damned disinfection commercials. What person in their right mind is listening to commercials that tell us to disinfect every last surface in out homes? And worse, then DOING it? I don't even bleach my cutting boards, or countertops. I put the boards in the dishwasher and then put them away. Get thee back, sodium hypochlorite, get thee from my sight. Hence, vile concoction!
** There were complications in all the deliveries but that is an endocrine problem on my part. My single miscarraige came very early and I doubt that had anything to do with anything I ingested.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
I cannot brain today
no kidding...
that's pretty much the state of mental function around here. Only difference is, I don't have stripes and I'm not cute and cuddly.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Monday morning blahs
Some mornings it hardly seems worth the trouble to get out of bed. Between laundry, housework, teenagers, males of various descriptions, bills, a horrible economy, day after day of heat and humidity and lack of sleep, I am feeling like a wet wash cloth.
Have to take cans in today, stop at the pharmacy, do something to get out of here for a while. DIL is coming up this weekend. That will be nice. We will sort through a bunch of stuff and see what she and DS1 want, then will probably either sell the rest or give it away. The rest of the kids either have no place for things or just aren't interested. We will probably go out somewhere for a nice meal. She says she thinks I need to get away from the stinky boys for a while. She's right.
Sis and I were chatting Sat. and we both were wishing there was some way we could get together, even for just a quick dinner someplace. She can't afford the drive up here and I can't afford the drive down there and there isn't really anyplace in between that would be worth the trip.
Job searching up here is getting depressing. People who have the kind of jobs I do are keeping them because something else is so hard to find. I may end up driving 20 or more miles and that isn't a good thing. Am gradually getting back in shape but it's taking a while. Overdoing is easy and I really pay for it with back spasms and so forth if I do over-reach.
Have been going through bills. Gawd. They continue to go up! What happens when people must choose between putting food on the table and paying their bills? The price of registering vehicles has gone up about 25%, too. Where the dickens does that money go? Property taxes are going up anywhere from 5% to 25% this year as well. The neighbors and I are wondering where all that goes, too. Sure doesn't seem to be showing up in any improvement in infrastructure around here.
The mess with the IRS keeps bothering me. It's one of those nagging things that seems to take forever to get resolved. My biggest concern is that getting everything settled up will take every cent I have, all my retirement funds, my house, my vehicles, everything. We may be able to negotiate a payment plan. I don't know. I do know that it is causing stress on me. Waking up at 3 am, night after night, with the whole thing nagging at me? *sigh*
Himself had to switch jobs. All I can hope for is that he gets behind the wheel of another truck, even if he is working 12 hour days, 6 days a week. He has got to have some funds coming in, and that soon. Not only that, but he has got to keep the job, not get all hoity-toity and start telling everyone how he thinks things should be done. Letting the OTR job go is understandable. He hasn't got the kind of temperament that can just sit back and say, "oh, well, if i sit here for another day, so what?" Still, he has got to get and keep a job. That's all. I can't hold it together anymore by myself nor be expected to keep supporting adolescents who seem to think food costs nothing at all. If I were him I'd have a massive case of the guilties for fiddling around in this manner. It isn't 1975 and jobs are rarer than hen's teeth. Get that through your head, man. It's an employer's market not an employee's. Those employers have people knocking on their doors, desperate to do anything to pay bills and support their families. They don't need to fool around with someone who seems to be a know-it-all, regardless of how talented he is.
The flooding has turned everything up here buttside up. There are some businesses that are struggling to get back on their feet. Some are still not open. People are wondering how they will manage to make ends meet. Everyone I know is pulling back and trying to regroup. I do mean everyone, too. With the projected rise in food costs of 9 to 25% over the next year... well, need I say more? We are spending only on food and bills. That's it. I don't mind that if it weren't for the above referenced IRS stuff.
I suppose I should get my backside in gear and actually get back to doing something. Venting a bit here makes it easier for me to not dwell on things quite so much.
Have to take cans in today, stop at the pharmacy, do something to get out of here for a while. DIL is coming up this weekend. That will be nice. We will sort through a bunch of stuff and see what she and DS1 want, then will probably either sell the rest or give it away. The rest of the kids either have no place for things or just aren't interested. We will probably go out somewhere for a nice meal. She says she thinks I need to get away from the stinky boys for a while. She's right.
Sis and I were chatting Sat. and we both were wishing there was some way we could get together, even for just a quick dinner someplace. She can't afford the drive up here and I can't afford the drive down there and there isn't really anyplace in between that would be worth the trip.
Job searching up here is getting depressing. People who have the kind of jobs I do are keeping them because something else is so hard to find. I may end up driving 20 or more miles and that isn't a good thing. Am gradually getting back in shape but it's taking a while. Overdoing is easy and I really pay for it with back spasms and so forth if I do over-reach.
Have been going through bills. Gawd. They continue to go up! What happens when people must choose between putting food on the table and paying their bills? The price of registering vehicles has gone up about 25%, too. Where the dickens does that money go? Property taxes are going up anywhere from 5% to 25% this year as well. The neighbors and I are wondering where all that goes, too. Sure doesn't seem to be showing up in any improvement in infrastructure around here.
The mess with the IRS keeps bothering me. It's one of those nagging things that seems to take forever to get resolved. My biggest concern is that getting everything settled up will take every cent I have, all my retirement funds, my house, my vehicles, everything. We may be able to negotiate a payment plan. I don't know. I do know that it is causing stress on me. Waking up at 3 am, night after night, with the whole thing nagging at me? *sigh*
Himself had to switch jobs. All I can hope for is that he gets behind the wheel of another truck, even if he is working 12 hour days, 6 days a week. He has got to have some funds coming in, and that soon. Not only that, but he has got to keep the job, not get all hoity-toity and start telling everyone how he thinks things should be done. Letting the OTR job go is understandable. He hasn't got the kind of temperament that can just sit back and say, "oh, well, if i sit here for another day, so what?" Still, he has got to get and keep a job. That's all. I can't hold it together anymore by myself nor be expected to keep supporting adolescents who seem to think food costs nothing at all. If I were him I'd have a massive case of the guilties for fiddling around in this manner. It isn't 1975 and jobs are rarer than hen's teeth. Get that through your head, man. It's an employer's market not an employee's. Those employers have people knocking on their doors, desperate to do anything to pay bills and support their families. They don't need to fool around with someone who seems to be a know-it-all, regardless of how talented he is.
The flooding has turned everything up here buttside up. There are some businesses that are struggling to get back on their feet. Some are still not open. People are wondering how they will manage to make ends meet. Everyone I know is pulling back and trying to regroup. I do mean everyone, too. With the projected rise in food costs of 9 to 25% over the next year... well, need I say more? We are spending only on food and bills. That's it. I don't mind that if it weren't for the above referenced IRS stuff.
I suppose I should get my backside in gear and actually get back to doing something. Venting a bit here makes it easier for me to not dwell on things quite so much.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
ah, phooey
Looks like it will be a nasty night. Donner, blitzen, wind, hail.... yah.
We do need rain but not a monster storm.
Right now, it is thundering north and south of me. Still as the grave outside and hot, humid and sticky.
Glad I have a basement and the closet under the stairs. Yes, indeed.
We do need rain but not a monster storm.
Right now, it is thundering north and south of me. Still as the grave outside and hot, humid and sticky.
Glad I have a basement and the closet under the stairs. Yes, indeed.
Prosthetic ramblings
I have wondered, periodically, over the last 7 years about an issue that I don't remember as being addressed by anyone at the Cancer Center...
Why is it that we females who have had a mastectomy (or 2) feel impelled by something in our psyches to wear a prosthesis, get implants or whatever to replace the missing bits?
Is the appearance of having 2 boobs so vitally important?
If it is, why? Where the heck did this seemingly unconscious reaction originate?
There must be a cultural trigger, back in our brains, which makes it almost impossible for a woman to go out and about without that fake boob. I have that trigger, too, so I'm not immune. I have been examining my reactions and trying to figure out just what it is that causes me to be uncomfortable out and about with only one boob. That's not rational. It just isn't. How did I end up with that irrational impetus?
In some cases, a woman may deny that she has on a prosthesis, even to those that know her history. For instance, my aunt had a double radical mastectomy back in the 60s and nary a word was spoken of it until some years after her death. If she had been quizzed about it, I doubt she would have admitted to wearing two inflatable boobs.
I believe this is a Janus-situation, two faces of the same issue.
On one hand, we are culturally acclimated to place a value on those boobs above all actual valuation. What are they good for, in the end? For a few short years, they may provide sustenance to young'uns, true. But, other than that, what actual use are they to us? Do we reflect inside ourselves a seeming fixation that some, not all, males have with boobs? Is our reaction a sort of self-defense against being ugly, unsexy and, therefore, unwanted and unloved? If we are lucky enough to have someone in our lives who honest-to-god doesn't care whether that boob[s] is there,** then what is the social impetus for insisting on wearing the prosthetics out in public? Who the heck are we trying to impress? Do we seek approval from strangers? What the heck does approval or acceptance from a stranger who we will probably never see again mean, in thy end?
On the other hand, we are ashamed, for absolutely no reason at all, that we had breast cancer in the first place.* It's not as if we did anything horribly wrong to have this inflicted on us. We didn't intend for this to happen. It wasn't a conscious decision on our parts. So, why in heaven's name, are we ashamed about it? A diagnosis of b.c. seems to carry a stigma with it that some forms of cancer simply do not. If a man is diagnosed with prostate cancer, is he ashamed about it? I really don't know because I don't know anyone who currently has it. If someone has liver, kidney, lymphatic, cancer, they don't behave as if there is some horrible curse hovering over them.
Does this reflect on our puritan roots? "The curse causeless does not come.." for instance. When this line of thought is carried through, it may lead to a conclusion that certainly doesn't do our society, or humanity in general, justice.
In the not-so-distant past, the only real value a woman had was to produce children. Honest! If there were no children, divorce was imminent. (think of Henry XIII in this respect.) In some societies, stoning was and maybe still is, the punishment for a barren woman. Property of the male, indentured to bear child after child until worn out and aged. No progeny? Woman dies in childbirth? Woman loses attractiveness? Hell, get another one, there's plenty of them out there. A woman who did not produce those vital children (preferably males) would be seen as cursed, useless, or worse. Is our shame at loss of that bit a reflection of aeons of acculturation with this patriarchal idea? Is this what impells us?
Do we place value on ourselves as a mirror of other women's physical attractiveness? Do we compete in the marketplace, as on a slaver's block, to attain the males who will care for us?
I don't know. Honestly, I don't know. This could easily be the subject of a doctoral dissertation but I am unaware of anyone who has done anything of the sort. If someone knows of one, let me know?
* I must insert a caveat here. My friend Eileen isn't in the least embarrassed about her IBC. Nor about being bald. At least, not that I can perceive. Rock on, Eileen!
** Himself really doesn't give a flying f*ck about the missing boob. He honestly doesn't. We have differences that seem to be unbridgeable sometimes, but by god, I appreciate him for simply not caring about the missing bits. He doesn't care if I go with him somewhere without the prosthesis, he doesn't care if I wear it around the house. He actually thinks that it's pretty stupid to insist on wearing it when it's damned near 100 degrees and the thing just hangs there like a sweat-soaked small child. (thanks for that, Eileen. Good comparison, indeed.)
Why is it that we females who have had a mastectomy (or 2) feel impelled by something in our psyches to wear a prosthesis, get implants or whatever to replace the missing bits?
Is the appearance of having 2 boobs so vitally important?
If it is, why? Where the heck did this seemingly unconscious reaction originate?
There must be a cultural trigger, back in our brains, which makes it almost impossible for a woman to go out and about without that fake boob. I have that trigger, too, so I'm not immune. I have been examining my reactions and trying to figure out just what it is that causes me to be uncomfortable out and about with only one boob. That's not rational. It just isn't. How did I end up with that irrational impetus?
In some cases, a woman may deny that she has on a prosthesis, even to those that know her history. For instance, my aunt had a double radical mastectomy back in the 60s and nary a word was spoken of it until some years after her death. If she had been quizzed about it, I doubt she would have admitted to wearing two inflatable boobs.
I believe this is a Janus-situation, two faces of the same issue.
On one hand, we are culturally acclimated to place a value on those boobs above all actual valuation. What are they good for, in the end? For a few short years, they may provide sustenance to young'uns, true. But, other than that, what actual use are they to us? Do we reflect inside ourselves a seeming fixation that some, not all, males have with boobs? Is our reaction a sort of self-defense against being ugly, unsexy and, therefore, unwanted and unloved? If we are lucky enough to have someone in our lives who honest-to-god doesn't care whether that boob[s] is there,** then what is the social impetus for insisting on wearing the prosthetics out in public? Who the heck are we trying to impress? Do we seek approval from strangers? What the heck does approval or acceptance from a stranger who we will probably never see again mean, in thy end?
On the other hand, we are ashamed, for absolutely no reason at all, that we had breast cancer in the first place.* It's not as if we did anything horribly wrong to have this inflicted on us. We didn't intend for this to happen. It wasn't a conscious decision on our parts. So, why in heaven's name, are we ashamed about it? A diagnosis of b.c. seems to carry a stigma with it that some forms of cancer simply do not. If a man is diagnosed with prostate cancer, is he ashamed about it? I really don't know because I don't know anyone who currently has it. If someone has liver, kidney, lymphatic, cancer, they don't behave as if there is some horrible curse hovering over them.
Does this reflect on our puritan roots? "The curse causeless does not come.." for instance. When this line of thought is carried through, it may lead to a conclusion that certainly doesn't do our society, or humanity in general, justice.
In the not-so-distant past, the only real value a woman had was to produce children. Honest! If there were no children, divorce was imminent. (think of Henry XIII in this respect.) In some societies, stoning was and maybe still is, the punishment for a barren woman. Property of the male, indentured to bear child after child until worn out and aged. No progeny? Woman dies in childbirth? Woman loses attractiveness? Hell, get another one, there's plenty of them out there. A woman who did not produce those vital children (preferably males) would be seen as cursed, useless, or worse. Is our shame at loss of that bit a reflection of aeons of acculturation with this patriarchal idea? Is this what impells us?
Do we place value on ourselves as a mirror of other women's physical attractiveness? Do we compete in the marketplace, as on a slaver's block, to attain the males who will care for us?
I don't know. Honestly, I don't know. This could easily be the subject of a doctoral dissertation but I am unaware of anyone who has done anything of the sort. If someone knows of one, let me know?
* I must insert a caveat here. My friend Eileen isn't in the least embarrassed about her IBC. Nor about being bald. At least, not that I can perceive. Rock on, Eileen!
** Himself really doesn't give a flying f*ck about the missing boob. He honestly doesn't. We have differences that seem to be unbridgeable sometimes, but by god, I appreciate him for simply not caring about the missing bits. He doesn't care if I go with him somewhere without the prosthesis, he doesn't care if I wear it around the house. He actually thinks that it's pretty stupid to insist on wearing it when it's damned near 100 degrees and the thing just hangs there like a sweat-soaked small child. (thanks for that, Eileen. Good comparison, indeed.)
VWP and flammable materials.
VWP, large fireworks and ignitors should not be in the same vicinity.
VWP on the loose.
They're darned lucky nobody got hurt any worse than they did.
Sheesh.
VWP on the loose.
They're darned lucky nobody got hurt any worse than they did.
Sheesh.
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