Saturday, March 27, 2010

Friday, March 19, 2010

Some Things You Can't Fix

When there’s a problem, I fix it and it’s fixed. Sometimes you have to compromise. Sometimes people dislike what the solution is, but there IS a solution. The solution can’t be “no solution.” When there’s a real problem, there’s a real solution. A fix. A repair. A light at the end of the tunnel, even if it’s a little dimmer than people would like. But this isn’t like that. It’s a coming and going and mistrial after mistrial and I keep giving things up and trying this and that but it feels like it doesn’t matter. I am a bystander strapped behind a glass wall watching things happen to my body that I have no control over. I get tired. I don’t want to take meds that aren’t natural and introduce a chemical to my body for it to function right.
I sometimes wonder why I was the sperm that made it. People are out there living normal lives with no idea what might be lurking. I always felt an undeserved sense of pride when I thought of my health before, like people who are sick could have done something to prevent it. Now I want to look back on that and kick my own ass, and tell myself to eat more ice cream and cottage cheese because I’ll never have that again. Save some money and travel and experience life while you’re still normal and not fucked up and looking for the bathroom the moment you step into any building, hoping no one else is in there so you can be alone with your misery. People take it for granted. I take it for granted when I’m just “pretty well, considering.” But when I start to sink I remember; there was a time when I welcomed death every morning. Not that I would seek it, but I had the thought that if it found me, it’d be a reprieve and a blessing.
I heard someone say that they thought their body was trying to give them a break at those moments they felt good. I was surprised by that. I’ve always felt angry with my body, like it’s turned against me and it could fix this thing, turn it around and make me normal again. I don’t know which is true. I guess it’s just a bunch of parts that, for some mysterious reason, don’t work right together. I guess it doesn’t matter. I won’t come up with a solution. But the moment I start that sinking feeling, the fear creeps in and I wish I wasn’t the one that made it. And I wonder who all you would be without me. Was the creation of my life worth the humiliation and pain?

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Dollop Lust

So my guts have been off kilter for a couple weeks and I decided randomly that I should fast for 24 hours to give the ole meatbag a chance to catch its breath and hopefully get back to normal. I am a food lover. A lover of food. If I could, I'd just sit around all day eating things because they're so delicious. (Can you tell I'm hungry?) Since I'm horrible at not thinking about eating when I'm hungry, I was having a mind-gasm over different things I could be eating. Big juicy burger with lettuce, tomato, extra pickle, mustard, a side of thick cut fries swimming in ketchup. Fluffy baked potato slathered in butter, melted cheese, sour cream and bacon bits. A steaming bowl of vegetable stew.
In the midst of my food fantasies I realized that I have a favorite word. That word is "dollop." Anything with a dollop on it is automatically outstanding. A dollop of butter. A dollop of sour cream. A dollop of hot fudge on ice cream. Unfortunately, dollop is often associated with dairy products. Dairy products were one of my greatest losses when I found the more I ate, the worse things seemed to get in the tummy. So now I shall have to cling to my dollop fantasy. And it's back to the trenches with plain white rice and chicken breast for a micro dinner. Ho hum.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Razor Burn & Sadness

Lazing about yesterday night it occurred to me that men are now beginning to shave things other than their faces. The word shave makes me unhappy. Shaving is such a lame waste of time for so little benefit. I did some research and found that this horrible craze for shaving began for American women in 1915 as a result of some ad campaign that convinced women that if you don't shave you're unhygienic. Society embraced it and now women are all screwed because society would freak out if we didn't shave. If I saw a woman with truly hairy pits, I would feel the need to point it out to everyone I knew and gawk. Damn me for playing into this ad generated ploy.
True, men have been shaving their faces since forever, but men, I implore you, hold your ground with the rest of your hair! Don't make society flip a magical switch and convince you that shaving your chest, arms, armpits, legs and nether regions is the way to go! Too many men are shaving their chests for that slick, tanned poolside look. Football players shave their legs so they can tape them up, but when the season is over some keep shaving! I've seen men clip down their armpit hair! As someone that is forced to shave because of society's standards for femininity, please, stop this madness! At the rate men are going, this thing will snowball and leave them with nothing to show for shaving but razor burn and sadness.