love in our summer skin - Pt. 2

Here's part two, which will be more fun if you read part one (scroll down).

So really, women, this hating our bodies thing? Let's cut it out. It's not as if constantly complaining or fishing for compliments is fun, and it certainly isn't a gay old time to spend an hour trying to get dressed to make ourselves appear thinner. Sooner or later we should figure out how it's a lot easier to just love what you've got.

You know who figured this out faster than I am? The cool chicks at (the late) Jane magazine. If anyone else picked up their last ever issue, they'll know what I'm talking about. August is their "naked issue" -- and this one certainly didn't dissappoint (80% more naked than last year!). I loved the photo piece of various female actors hanging out naked. Now, their naughty bits were covered, but it didn't take away from the piece. Imagine! Women proudly showing off their bodies -- the parts they love and the parts that maybe they'd rather cover with clothes. But the truth was, not one of them looked bad. Now, that nagging voice in my head points out lighting and the possible use of retouching, but no one was retouched to look perfect, so I'll get over it. Their bodies had soft curves and had structure. They looked real. And proud.

Another article I loved (both for its content and its writing -- I laughed out loud a few times while reading it) was one about naked yoga. Young and old, hanging out on rooftops in downtown, doing yoga naked. Connecting with nature (well, as much as you can downtown, I guess) and celebrating their bodies. I am SO down with that. The author said something I really like: "something about reducing myself to a soul covered in flesh... I don't feel uncomfortable. In the outside world I spend much time wishing I were more slender, but here, I don't feel that way at all." Doesn't that sound good?

This issue of Jane magazine came at a perfect time for me. I have been working harder to appreciate what I've got and not wish for a different body, because you know what? THIS is me and you know what? I'm pretty awesome. What this body can do never stops amazing me. Walking, running, growing, healing, sleeping, dreaming, dancing... all the things my body does for me, I feel like I should appreciate it more. It's a gift, every curve, every inch, every part is a gift.

So I've been working on appreciating it. First thing I did? Pitched those uncomfortable, over padded, pinch more and more and the day goes on, good for nothing bras. Because, really, the biggest plus to having a small chest is that I can forgo the padding and wire for bras that don't make me irritable and pained. And I am not going back. Nuh-uh. My body is much happier this way. And when my body is happy, so am I.

Chillin'

How every Sunday night should be.

The night starts here, the night starts here/ forget your name, forget your fear

Pt 2 of that other thing is coming later. But here to interrupt is this account of my day!

While waking up at 7:30am on a Sunday morning may not seem like a choice thing to be doing, this is what I did this morning. After going to sleep at 2, I woke up at 7:30 (still more sleep than average this summer, but I guess that's part of the problem), and I hit the snooze button. This, however had no effect as it was not my alarm that had woken me up, but my father in the doorway. "It's 7:30," he told me simply from the doorway. I think I said something eloquent like "Mmmmph" without opening my eyes while really I meant "What in Heaven's name are you doing waking me up at SEVEN THIRTY on a Sunda- oh. right. I asked you to wake me up."

I have really great ideas sometimes.

And here's the thing: even though I was dead tired and still mostly asleep, I dragged my butt out of bed and downstairs to the couch, my bed-substitute, in time for the 8 o'clock start. Start of what? you may ask. Why, let's see: Sunday morning, in the summer, 8am start = F1 season. Turkish Grand Prix. That's right: car racing. My dad and I have been watching car racing for as long as I can remember. Nascar, Indy car, F1... I know 'em all, I've seem 'em all. Sundays after church, or on days when I was allowed to stay home from church, I'd sit on the white couch in my living room, with my dad on the other couch and we'd watch cars of various shapes and sizes zoom around tracks. Meanwhile, my mom would be cooking Sunday dinner as well as the usual Sunday Night Special Desert and my sister would be helping her. It was Dad Time, and I loved every minute of it.

Gradually, as I've gotten older, we've done this less and less. I stopped watching Nascar on Sunday afternoons because I often have homework, or plans, and besides, I have no patience for Nascar anyway (they're pussies. They stop the race the second a little rain falls!). The mornings were harder and harder to wake up for because of my later Saturday nights, but everyone now and then, in the summer, during F1 season, I drag myself out of bed and sit in the living room with my dad and watch F1, which was always my favourite. Sure, I may be half asleep and I wake up and blindly agree with whatever my dad just said, but he still loves me being there. And I love being with him. Dad Time. Just me and him, while the rest of the house sleeps.

The rest of my day was pretty good too. I worked, and then found 74 dollars in chapters cards, bought myself two books and a scarf (yes, a scarf) and then saw the Nanny Diaries with my godmother. It was, by the way, a great movie. I recommend it to everyone. I also still love Scarlett Johansson, and was very happy to see that she had obviously raided my closet for this movie.

If you're bored tonight, give me a call. I'm going out around 11:30 to watch from some shooting stars. Hope to see you there.

love in our summer skin - Pt. 1

As a teenage girl, I spend a lot of time being told how much I should hate my body. Not just the media (yeah, ok I'll lay off for a second... that's a whole other blog post), but also by my peers. Loving your body just isn't cool. I remember one scene in Mean Girls, the first time the new girl, Cady, hangs out with the Plastics. Everyone is hanging out in the classic teen girl bedroom, and suddenly, as if a sudden alarm has gone off, all the girls congregate in front of the mirror and start pointing out their flaws. "My hair is totally wierd", "I have man shoulders", "My nailbeds suck"; the three girls completely pick apart their bodies. When Cady doesn't join in, they all prompt her to do so. That scene, though short, was one of the most true to life, because this happens all the time. Anywhere girls are hanging out this will happen. One girl starts with "I am so bloated today." and soon everyone else joins in. And not only do they join in, but they deny the other's problems ("You're so thin! What are you talking about?"). This may sound like a good thing, but really it is a put down. Your thing isn't as bad as my thing. My thing is worse. You aren't good enough at being unnattractive. I deserve more pity. On and on and on.

The inevitable result of this is that girls hate their naked bodies. Sure, we prance around in the changerooms after gym class grade 7, but only long enough to show the other girls that we can suck in our guts and rock our new training bras. In the changerooms at the Y we stare (without staring) at the old women who let it all hang out in the showers. How can they do this? we wonder, How can they stand to let people see... everything? And, uh, they sag like, a lot. Like, omg. How can they do it? How can they stand themselves? We scoff, we roll our eyes, we even giggle some, but there isn't one of us who doesn't envies the way they are totally comfortable in their own skin.

Me and my body have had our ups and downs, emotionally, and, well, physically. I remember from the time I was in fifth grade and probably even before, standing naked in front of my bedroom mirror, sucking in my stomach. Loves: lips, feet, legs, back. Less than love: stubby fingers, round cheeks, squinty eyes, let's-not-even-talk-about-them breasts, and, of course, the stomach. Number one enemy of the state. I was always kind of one of the chubbier girls in the class. "Puppy fat", it was always called, but I never got that. Puppies = cute. My stomach... not so much.

I never really dealt with my body-hate, my body dealt with it for me. Two things happenned: first, I grew. I stretched out, my weight redistributed itself and people started saying "Oh my goodness! Evey, you're so thin!". The other thing that happenned was that I joined rugby and spent the run-up to swimsuit season running up and down a field 2 hours a day, 4 days a week. It was going good. Since then my weight has been up and down (more up than down lately), which is totally normal. I'm not one of the thinnest girls in my class, but I'm not overweight, and I'm hoping that one day I can accept that.

Took a step back, couldn't read the signs/ Cross the plains till they start to climb

2/3 of the way through my trip to Indiana, and I am remembering why I love my cousins so much. Sure, they drive me totally nuts sometimes, but I love them so much. So much silly. They are my older brothers, and it's quite regrettable that I only get to see them once a year.

Today we went to the fair! We sang the fair song. If you don't know this song, just remember the song:

We're goin' to the zoo, zoo, zoo
How about you? you? you?
You can come too, too, too,
We're going to the zoo, zoo, zoo

and then you ask people what they saw at the zoo and what sound it made... it's a fun silly song to sing in the car. We adapt it to our needs, changing the rhymes as we need to (We're going to the beach, Gonna eat a peach, Watch out for the leech...) And in this case, the fair! Amy thought we were nuts, we sang songs the whole way home. First, the regular car/camp songs and then we moved on to Broadway stuff (Elephant Love Medley! Guys vs Girls!)



So the fair was so much fun. We didn't actually travel a great distance, but we did tons of stuff. We ate honey ice cream (Jonah, reading ingredients: "Guys, the only thing there's less of in here than honey is something called "stabilizer". Who knew honey was so unstable?"), we saw a gourd turned into a whale and we discovered Erin's family secret (me: "ok, who knew that Erin had a farm? I didn't know! I bet you have a secret plan to fight inflation too, Erin."). Oh, and we ate fried food. DEEP fried food. A short list of things that various people from the group ate:

-deep fried corn fritters ("Like corn nuggets, but worse for you!")
-elephant ear (like a Beavertail but not as good)
-corn on the cob (ok, the real food)
-corn dog
-walking taco*
-steak on a stick
-deep fried strawberries dipped in chocolate
-deep fried oreo (it was free, and now I can say I've eaten one.)



All in all, I quite enjoyed the Indiana State Fair. And the deep fried oreo.

*A walking taco is snack sized bag of fritos with lettuce, tomato, cheese and ground beef in it. Can you say awesome lunch? I will be making this with whole wheat corn chips when I get home.

If Bond had gone to Lisgar...

http://xkcd.com/123/

... he could've done it.

She's Shameless

When three girls follow their dreams and start an online magazine, all I can do it shout their praises from any rooftop I can get to. I've read the premier issue of "She's In Fashion" magazine, and I think it's pretty friggin awesome. I only hope they'll let me write for them, cause this is a kickass project.

Check it out and tell all your friends:

www.shesinfashiononline.com

Feminist.

I'm a feminist, I don't bathe. Ever.
I'm a feminist, I burn bras in lieu of logs in my fire place.
I'm a feminist, I hate men.
I'm a feminist, I date a girl and,
I'm a feminist, so I don't call my partner my girlfriend.
I'm a feminist, I would rather die than settle down and have a family.
I'm a feminist, I always have dirt under my fingernails
I'm a feminist, the only hair I shave is the hair on my head.
I'm a feminist, I pierce everything that can be pierced.
I'm a feminist, I wear lots of leather.
I'm a feminist, I listen to loud, angry music.
I'm a feminist, I heart Rosie O'Donnell.
I'm a feminist, when I'm not barefoot, I'm wearing my Birkenstocks.
I'm a feminist, I refuse to wear a dress.
I'm a feminist, I only eat the vegetables I grow in my backyard.
I'm a feminist, I don't wear deoderant.
I'm a feminist, I care about equal rights for men and women, and I think women are kickass.

Call me crazy. Some of those things are true, some are stereotypes that aren't true of me, but they are of some people. Who cares? Whatever form it takes, feminism rocks. No matter what some teeny boppers think (*ahem Hilary Duff*)

So, I have this thing for quizzes.

Advocating Dreamer

I'm keeping my cervix far away from the line.

So here's what I've been doing today:

http://www.shamelessmag.com/blog/2007/08/big-pharma-wins-again/

I am a fan of Shameless magazine. I like that it brings to light real issues instead of "281 ways to look pretty!" (see 17 for more of that). However, I don't like it when women in places of power at this magazine use it as a soapbox for their own personal (wrong) views about a vaccine that will help so many women. Yep -- HPV vaccine. It can't avoid controversy anywhere it goes. Here's my last bit, since I know most of you won't read it.

"I totally agree with you that Pap smears are essential to ensuring you stay cervical cancer-free. The problem is many women (like women in Aboriginal communities, as you mentioned)do not get Pap smears and it is these women who are most likely to get cervical cancer. Much needs to be done, socially. To start, why don’t we make sure all canadians are vaccinated? This is a huge break through in medical science. It is the first time in medical history that there is a vaccine against cancer — and this is what it is. 90% of cervical cancer is caused by HPV and it is the second highest cancer killer of women, second only to breast cancer, which has also been linked to HPV.

As to why the vaccine isn’t available to men — it is likely that the vaccine will be available to men in the next 12 months. This delay is because HPV does affect women more than men (although men can get anal, testicular and penile cancers from HPV as well). It is not a “women’s problem”. It is a solution for women.

As for Merck’s problems — they are a Big Pharmaceutical company, yes, so they are out to make a buck and out for themselves. But it would be cutting off our noses to spite our faces to push this breakthrough away because it is coming from Big Pharm. To make Merck more socially concious, why don’t we lobby them to donate vaccines to clinics where women who would never have access otherwise can get the vaccine? Women who will never get Pap tests, women who wear burkhas and chadors, whose husbands will never let them get Pap smears but who can get a needle and can protect themselves. I’m not trying to make sweeping generalizations, merely a suggestion. This vaccine can do so much good.

The idea that this is siphoning money away from other health issues frankly makes me a little annoyed, because this will in fact save so much money. As I said, HPV causes 90% of cervical cancer — without that 90%, so much money will be saved in terms of expensive, stage IV cancer treatments, all the way down to the wart treatments that come with HPV. Maybe not immediately, but in the long term, this will save so much money.

This vaccine has been in developement for over 20 years and clinical trials for 5. It has recieved exactly as much scrutiny as all other vaccines before they go to the public. Clinical trials continue, it will be monitored on an ongoing basis — just like every other vaccine. Why should we waste time over-scrutinizing when real lives can be saved. Scientific research on the long-term impact of the immune impact shows that if the vaccine is given to a 12-year-old, the immunity will be enhanced as time goes on. Why wait? We can help women. We can help an entire generation of teenagers, girls and guys. Why wait? Why put our cervixes on the line in order to “teach a lesson” to Big Pharm.? It is my body and as a socially-concious young woman, I feel my body will be of more use to any cause to which I want to lend it if I don’t have cervical cancer.

The fact is, cervical cancer prevention is a women’s issue — so let’s take control."

These women make me so angry sometimes. I hate that they would rather fight Big Pharm then save themselves and others from HPV and cervical cancer. This is a GOOD THING. Let's remember that people.