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An Attitude of Gratitude is essential for the Goddess Self Respect Project.


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Philosophical Parenting: Getting the Question right.

I freakin’ love children.  They have this innate ability to get so freaky obscure, profoundly deep or just ridiculously banal. Today I was in a very long drawn out negotiation with my 6 year old son, attempting to get him to help me in the garden for half an hour, with a big, but easy task.

We had our terms of trade – labour for ‘TV time’.  I was just laying down a bit of philosophy, preempting that 5 minutes into the task, he was gonna get pretty bored.

Me: “Do you know the difference between an experience being Fine, and an experience being Boring?”

Son: “ Um, nahp.” 

Me:  “It is the way that you think about it!”

Son pauses, then eyes open wide: “Cool!”

Son gives thoughtful look:  Can you say it again?”

Me: “Ok. Do you know the difference between an experience being Fine and an experience being Boring?”

… It’s the waaaaay that you thiiiink about it.” 

A long “Ohhhhhhhhhhh!”  From son.

“Yeh, yeh” he starts to interject.

Me: “Yes, like the two ways of going up a hill.”

Here, I start, trying to refer to an existential lesson from earlier in the week regarding Stuart Wilde’s explanation of the difference between ‘Effort’ and ‘Struggle’.)*  But he interrupts me, in all seriousness. 

Son:  “Yeh but, Mum?”  He obviously has an important question!

Me:   “Yes, Darling?

Son:   “Yeh. But, why do ‘Pee’ and ‘Poo’ both start with the same letter?”

Checkmate.  He wins.

moustache-kid_365

*Note:  Stuart Wilde explains the difference between ‘Effort’ and ‘Struggle’. He says that a lot of things we want to do take effort. But the difference between putting in Effort and Struggle is the difference between having a good time of it, and having a bad time of it and having to do it anyway.
That is to say: Effort plus resistance  (or negative emotion) equals struggle. 

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Under Arm Hair: A time of growth

I’ve decided to re-grow out my armpit hair. That’s right. Grow it. Grow the full crop.

I mean it’s happening anyway. I neglected attending to attend to it for a few weeks recently and it got ‘outta hand’. So I thought I’d just wax it.  My waxing lady is hilarious. I can not fault her work.  She corrects me when I say ‘arm pits’. It is ‘Under Arm’. We don’t mention ‘pits’.  It’s inelegant.

Anyway, I usually have my body hair tamed but at the moment, I’m feeling like an uprising. I mean, ‘Tamed’. ‘TAMED!’  Argh! My inner 20 year old is pissed at this.

By the time I hit about 20 years old, I had looked with penetration at what makes a woman valuable in this world and had noticed that looks and youth have a great deal to do with it. And, although I fitted the value system, that made me mad.  

When I was 20 years old, studying at University, I found my preferred peers. They were a highly affectionate, funny, gentle, uplifting, intelligent and super fun gaggle of young lesbians (in the main). They had hairy armpits. It was a political statement.

When I think about it now, they would surely kick my ass for calling them a gaggle. I think they’d prefer a ‘murder’ or at least a swarm, troop, grist, rabble, pod or, something. No! I’ve got it! In honour of our ‘radical’ reclamation activities, honouring menstruation, we were a Rag of Lesbians! (And some men-fucking ‘Queers’ like me. Some energetic gay boys and awesome women-loving fellas.)

Oh university in the 90s. Le sigh…wow. It was great. I remember, at the ripe age of 18, I had been out of home for a year, was living in downtown Fitzroy, paying $52 a week rent, being shown into radical bookshops and poetry halls, and covert speakeasies where women, naked or otherwise spoke great inspiring words that rocketed my mind capsule out of the suburbs and transported me to realms of courage and juice that I had only dreamed the glimmers of at high school.

During this time I saw some deliciously subversive body hair creations. The girl on the tram at orientation, changed my life. She was hanging on to the rail: her full hairy copse, dyed as green as a spring meadow. Then there was the Girl who had shaved horizontal stripes down her lower legs: nice job! Strange effect, but you know, Respect!

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It was liberating.

Thus, I have never since been interested in what uptight men and women have opined in vox pop street polls on under arm hair. I mean, who cares? Whatevs!

AND, OMG, There is currently an international action trying to get on it’s feet called Armpits4August! Oh, bless.

So, now, I’m 40 and I really do love the silky smooth (and social acceptable) bald-ass underarm but from time-to-time I mix it up. No one who loves me minds – although we’ll see.  Frankly I feel so tender about allowing the soft furry kitten of my pit-ling to visit again after all these years. A subtle sensuous act of reclamation.

I feel like this temporary change is like a little holiday. A ribald, wild, uncivilised, drunken, tit-flashing, karaoke-involved holiday. I think with lipstick, false eyelashes and heels I could confuse the fuck out of some people next cocktail party. … Ha. Awesome.


* Photo source: Julia Squire…respect.  For full shoot (with nudity) see: http://www.juliasquire.com/biophotology/saturated-blossoms


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Internet Dating: “This is red five. I’m going in.” Part 2

Luke: “What’s in there?”
Yoda: “Only what you take with you.”

yoda-luke

Now when Yoda was advising Luke in this way, I am sure he was not talking about Online dating. But still – it applies.

I write this on the cusp on my first online-induced date.  With Jack.  Real name:  Not telling.  

(See Part 1 of this series.)  We are being conservative. It’s just coffee.

My friend – who is like a professional consultant for such bold and often awkward endeavours has offered to call me 15 minutes into it to give me an excuse to go.

Another friend who works in IT for one of the big dating sites also gives me 15 minute advice. “Tell him you will meet him for 15 minutes. One drink and you can go from there. Then if you’re having a good time for can always keep it rolling.” Having a good time? I dare not hope!

Internet dating. I’ve heard the horror stories and I’ve heard the doe-eyed ‘how-we-met’ stories.

I will admit I find it a bit daunting. But I’m not sure about these contingencies, I think I’d rather go in being real, trusting my own boundaries, holding my own ground.  I am more than equipped for such a journey:

I could really over think this and go in with all sorts of anxieties but instead I reckon the worst thing that will happen is Jack will be really rude, belligerent, creepy, overly familiar in a creepy sort of way and mean. AND creepy. Did I say that already? Or he could be creepy in a vapid, inane, messed up kind of way.

The second worst thing could be that there will be nothing to talk about. The third thing – especially if paired with the second thing – is that there will be no attraction.  At all.  Flat linin’…________Beeeeep_________.

But I won’t know unless I go.

Jack is making it easy after all.  He’s like:  “Hey, we’ll probably not hook up, and maybe we’ll never see each other again but, it’s harmless and we’ll probably be better people for meeting each other.” Now I can’t argue with that.

If nothing comes of it, BOOM! on to the next adventure.  And finally, I can always rely on Yoda for realistic advice:

Obi-wan: “That boy is our last hope.”

Yoda:  “No, there is another.”


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Online Flirting: A Day with a Disembodied Stranger.

Names have been changed to protect both the innocent AND the naive.

Some of my girlfriends have the most amazing date balls.89roNC1367846500

I’m not talking low fat, sugar-free orbs of dried fruit and nuts served at health retreats. I mean big-assed balls of courage when it comes to dating.  Internet Dating!  That stuff takes big cajones. Or does it?

Last week I had a try of a dating site. I posted a profile and then ‘attended to my Inbox’ – which is the point of the exercise no?  That’s a dirty joke…case you missed it.   😉

T’was early Saturday morning and I received a intriguing message from a strange and cunning linguist.  I checked his profile – no photo.  I know!  Why bother reading further but I did and it was FUNNY!  I love funny.

On this dating site, there is section where one may indicate what one is looking for:  long-term dating; short-term dating; friends; activity partners…etc.  My punter had written:  “The idea of an ‘Activity Partner’ fascinates me. I don’t know what that actually means but I want one!”    

An Activity Partner! I want one too! It sounds so quaint and old fashioned and yet it is totally a phenomenon of contemporary culture. We used to just call them ‘friends’ but that word has been shot to pieces by the facebook phenomenon. 

So, I messaged him back and he messaged back immediately, and so I did again and he did again and so forth for most of the next 30 hours.typing guy and dogAt first he was brash, then flirty and familiar in a somehow gentlemanly way.  He was confident to one hair short of arrogant, and then redeemed himself with a shot of humility.  But most of all he was quick-witted, bold and cheeky.  I was receptive, a squeeze of coy, and a little ‘Tigress’. 

56 messages and 24 hours later we had shared a day.Here, I will share our abridged volleys.  He is in Bold and I am in Italics. Enjoy!

(Names have been changed to protect both the innocent AND the naive).

First we have a little chat and I ask him to message me later. Oh it is easy to be cheeky when we are safe behind a screen! 

 

7:36am

  • Come again. I’m here all week… 😉 
  • Ok. I always do anyway!
  • It must be exhausting being you … But inspirational nonetheless!
  • Its invigorating actually.
    Although I am having trouble this morning finding a reason to get out of bed.
    Brrrrrrr chilly
  • Brrrrrrr? Sounds like u have had assistance!  😉  
  • Oh my!  Really! 
  • Stop blushing… If it feels good… Well you could just stay there all day, couldn’t you?

 

11:13am  

I throw in a spontaneous poem:

beetroot_valentine

My cheeks look sweet with a little blush. 

My chest feels nice with a flush

            Of heat.

                  And I’m not in bed,

                     I’m down the street.

                             At the market Buying beets

(I’m not just saying that for the loop.

I’m gonna make some beet root soup.)   

Ok look here! Always good to throw in a rhyme. Fast forward to 10:41pm and I am getting a little tipsy at a party. But my mind starts playing with this morning’s flirt.  

  • Soooo Mr. No Photo… You’re 16, have poofy hair and live with your parents, right? 
  • No miss. I’m 35 and live on the south side by myself.  Not up to much tonight…. U?

Ok look here! He has sent a photo. …Not bad!

  • At a 40th in Fitzroy it’s all very chic. The people are lovely. Everyone keeps big-upping my hair. Oh it’s the small things in life… Hehehe.   I think I may take up smoking.  Why are u in tonight? Is it just too chilly?
  • I often stay in on Saturday nights, it’s all a bit crazy.  
  • I think u would be good at smoking…4PdRzw1367845116
  • I just went to men’s bathroom with a group of friends. Now I’m a bit sozzed. I’m sure I’m about to get very chatty.  Oh dear.  Tell me something else about you.
  • Ask me anything! You are an Artistic / Musical / Writer – all three?
  • Designer / mother/ spiritual warrior. Now I’m at some other feeble club. Lucky my friends are spirited.
    What’s your name?
  • Jack.  What’s yours?
  • Fun Woman.
  • Thought so…
  • Haha. You did not.
  • I did not i was just trying to induce paranoia… ! Hahaha

12:58am

  • My hair still looks good. That’s good.  I think I better apply myself to this smoking thing though.
  •  I bet your hair looks good… Work it baby… I’m going to sleep now. Will be back when I can’t sleep.

Next day…

9:41am

  • Jail?
  • Holy crap. It Coulda gone there.  40ths are mad.
    I got a cab back with friends and crashed on the couch then the rest of the party came back and everyone got in the 20-person spa. Now with little pinpricks eyes and trembling on a cellular level I’m midway thru a day course in the city.
    Currently scoffing first food since 3pm yesterday. Egg Tortilla.
    Better than jail food.

              Lots of men giving me sultry looks today. Guys love trash bags don’t they?

  • Yes but not when they’re grinding their teeth.  😉
  • What are you doing?
  • I have to go to my Aunty’s birthday and mingle with lesbians. 
  • Oh lesbians.  Thought I may have joined the ranks last night.  I woke up with some serious stay-fast lipstick over my face.  
  • What’s this Sunday course nonsense?
  • Um, blog course.  Yep.  I’m doing it.  But my mind is fading.
  • U would make a fine bloggerist…

12:49

  • Thankyou Jack.  People say that.  Say ‘hi’ to your aunty.     ;D
  • Until soon Fun Woman.

So there you go. A day spent with a virtual literal stranger.  I’m starting to see the online flirting appeal. With a good rapport, a match of wits, and a wifi connection, one can feel an almost instant alliance with a complete stranger. Ordinary life becomes a a running in-joke between you and the funny, uninhibited little monkey on your shoulder/smart phone.  Of course, it can be somewhat satisfying for a single person, kind of like having a partner but more like having an invisible friend.  

Now, as many do, Jack and I could continue this friendship online. We could get past the witty reparte, build loyalty, trust, and share our hearts and pictures of ourselves naked.  It sounds less risky than meeting in person and less satisfying than an actual relationship but lends itself more to fantasy.

But I think I’d prefer an ‘Activity Partner’ to an invisible friend. 

Jack wants me to meet him. Shall I?

Hope you laughed. 

FWSM  xx