Weeds are rampant both in my garden and in my personal life. PMs and emails go unanswered. I’ve needed new glasses for about a year now; not only am I unfashionable, but I can’t see more than about ten yards in front of my face. I keep my kitchen and bathroom scrupulously clean, but yet the living room carpet needs attention and my desk is an unruly pile of papers, unpaid bills and books.
Why the neglect? Well, fuck do I know. I’ve neglected to look too deeply into the matter. Or rather I have, but I’ve neglected to acknowledge or act on what I’ve found. Since the beginning of November I’ve gone from the pits of despair, to the height of happiness and back down into the pits. I feel both stupid and silly. Stupid because I knew in my heart of hearts that Charlie would end up being a source of pain, and silly because I know I’ve got it comparatively good.
I also feel frustrated because a combination of Champix and Mirena have caused me to slide into a chemically induced depression – as if Charlie’s antics weren’t enough. If I wanted chemically induced depression, I would have used drugs that I could have had fun with in the meantime. Ah well, shit happens.
Tim Horn and I have recently discussed the inactivity of my blog and what possible directions I might take it in from now on. He suggested I be less autobiographical and focus more on current events - and I like that idea. The problem so far has been that I’ve found I couldn’t move forward into this new direction until I achieved a sense of closure regarding what this blog has been up to now. That’s what I’m doing with this entry in my own cryptic way.
Hey, it’s my blog and I’ll be cryptic if I want to. Cryptic if I want to, cryptic if I want to... oops, singing in my head again. Such is life.
I’ve got an example of the type of “current affairs" I hope to be writing about at a store near you...
On (the UK) C4 this week they’ve had “Embarrassing Bodies week" and one of the case histories involved a woman who presented with large labia minora.
No biggie, if you’ll pardon the pun – but she seemed to think it was a very big deal indeed and thought she was abnormal. She wasn’t. Her labia were completely normal and quite sexy. However, this woman was immediately recommended to a cosmetic surgeon. What??? Why wasn’t she first recommended to a therapist to see if she couldn’t become reconciled with what nature gave her, instead of encouraged to be surgically mutilated? I mean, there are webpages dedicated to ways and means of actively enlarging one’s labia minora - for example through the application of weights. Some men and women regard large labia minora as positively sexy. I do. And why not?
Fair enough, if this woman had a few sessions with a therapist and still didn’t like her large lips, then maybe it was time to go for surgery. But to offer mutilation as a front-line therapy is, to my mind, totally unjustified. Next thing you know, they’ll be recommending African-style clittorectomies just because the darn things tend to stick out a bit when women are sexually excited.
It does my head in. It really does. Why do so many women feel compelled to mutilate their bodies in the name of fashion? I don’t get it. Do you?