It’s all about me

I’ve been given a Stylish Blogger Award by the lovely meganwegan at Craft is the New Black. (I hear she’s an incorrigible flirt, even though she can’t wink.)

stylish blogger award

It means I have to tell you seven things about myself and then pass it on. Like a chain letter, but interesting – I hope. (Shiny new coin gave me one last year, so these are seven new things.)

1. When I walk past dog shit I have to close my mouth and breathe out forcefully though my nose, so that I don’t get any of the poo air inside me.

2. Even if it’s stinking hot, I’m just not a bare leg kind of person.

3. I’d love to live beside Lake Baikal in Siberia for one year and take a photo of the lake at the same time every day.

4. When my mum gave me the period talk, I thought she was talking about bowel cancer. We were in the doctor’s waiting room for some reason and there was a poster on the wall with a picture of a toilet and the words ‘if you see blood in here, talk to your doctor’. My mum said something like, “if you see blood in your pants or in the toilet, let me know”. And that was the period talk. For years I worried that I was going to get bowel cancer.

5. I love voting. I love numbering every single box, but I think there should be a few words under each party and independent summing up their platform. How do we know what they want to do? A list of names has no place in a democracy.

6. I’m really lazy about getting my legs waxed, but considering point 2, it doesn’t really matter.

7. There are so many things I want to blog about, but I can’t because the company I work for two days a week has a really restrictive social media policy.

Over to you. Share your seven, or comment on mine, or comment on someone else’s seven. Floor is yours.

21 responses to “It’s all about me

  1. your #2 is inline with my way of thinking. My legs are usually covered. Regardless of weather. (plus I think knees are ugly. I know, poor knees, I just have no love for them except in their function for making it possible for me to walk, run, skip etc)

    #4… my experience was the complete opposite. My mother is very much of the feminist persuasion and at that time of my life was into the overshare style of feminist mothering. The woman had props and knew how to use them, no matter how embarrassed us girls felt about it. Couple that with an overly enthusiastic invitation to hold a “first menses rite” and you have a group of girls who prayed fervently that their period would NEVER come. But of course it did. and for the next six months every time I would run into a lady from my tiny tiny rural so small not even a village, they would whisper in my ear about how wonderful it was I was bleeding and that I was well on the path to womanhood now. *cue mortification* except that one woman who has to announce every thing at the top of her lungs and so tells the entire town who is congregated for the schools christmas celebrations that Pirra became a woman this year….I *wished* I was dying.

    I decided to do things a little differently with my own daughter. To her mortification I discussed periods in front of her brothers and father. It was actually one of my mothers feminist friends who inspired that. She had only boys, but rather than hide the fem hygiene products out of sight, (her bachelor brother in law with them also) she would leave them in the toilet area where the boys could see and wait for the questions. (Which inevitably come with curious children) She then took it upon herself to teach her boys about women (she believed that some day they may have girlfriends, wives, daughters, or close female friends at least assuming they were hetero. and so they needed to know)

    So in my family we have very frank and honest discussions on puberty, (I love hearing my husband talk about what happens to boys as I have no clue. I do have three brothers but I did not grow up inthe same house as them) though, I do not have props. Except for that one time when my son asked me how a tampon works, so I showed him using a shot glass and water. He thought it was awesome.

    And I think my comment is now longer than your entire post. OOPS.

  2. Think Esbat, but more ‘special’. The pagan “take em out for dinner to celebrate” alternative. Yeah at 14, the last thing you want is to be dancing naked with your mum and her fem friends in honour of your first menses under a full moon, even if you do live in the middle of the freaking bush. A part of me thought she was only joking until the same invitation was extended to my younger sisters when they too, got their period. I envy one of my sisters who got her period at boarding school and so was spared the indiginity of gasping in horror “Fuck NO, Mum why would I want to do that, eewww?” (Yeah go figure our catholic family engaging in pagan rituals on a semi-regular basis, this is one of the reasons christians hate catholics I guess, cathoicism and paganism are startlingly similar in some aspects) My family is just fucked up.

    Teaching your sons about women is common sense. Doesn’t stop them giggling everytime they say vagina…but at least they know how a vagina works.

  3. Hehehehehehehe!
    Mum and Dad took me out to dinner when I got my period, and bought me a present. My two older sisters (14 and 15 years older) were slightly stunned and embarrassed when they heard about and I *think* grateful that Mum and Dad were still pretty well Catholic when they got theirs.

    AND the other week my 3 year old asked me what I was unwrapping, and when I said, ‘A tampon’, he understandably asked what a tampon was…..whereupon my 5 year old said, “It’s something that grownups use to stop blood leaking out of their bottoms.”

    • Bwahaha! I love your 5 yo old.

      Given the stuff my kids are exposed to on a daily basis. (They can all quote American Dad and Team America….) it was absolute hilarity that one day when watching How I met Your mother, the ep. where Barney shoots a porno in Ted’s flat and when they realise it’s their flat they all jump off the couch in disgust…my kids asked if what they were watching was people having sex…when I replied yes, my then 13 year old daughter said eeeww, do people really do that? Do people really video themselves and other people having sex? When I said yes, What did you think porn was? She told me she thought porn was something her Dad and I had made up to scare her! Fuck I laughed.

      In her defense her Dad and I make up shit all the time.

      (Guess we hid the porn well.)

      • Isn’t being able to make shit up the whole reason people have kids in the first place?

        • yes. And it’s loads of fun. We told the daughter (who, poor pet, has always been particularly gullible) when she was little that there was a special red light in her forehead that lights up when she lies, that only Mummy and Daddy can see. To this day, whenever she tries to lie, her hand goes straight to her forehead to cover up the light. (Evil, but so effective)

          We also used to threaten her with undoing her belly button when she was naughty. (Cause if some one undoes your belly button, your bum will fall off.)

          • GOLD!

            That’s pure genius.

            • Rhiannon Saxon

              Craig is always making stuff up to mess with the boy’s heads. When we used to do the coffee and cake stall at Glebe Markets (for six loooooooong years) he used to tell the kids that he was off to market to swap our cow for some magic beans. They used to tell other people that that is what Daddy was doing.

              • I love those dumb Dad sayings. Until she was about 9 years old the Girl child was certain one day this bloody horse Dad was always off seeing a man about would magically appear.

                I hope he really sold the bit by bringing home a bag of beans then throwing them on the floor in a fit of rage for being duped again. “These aren’t magic beans, these are mexican farting beans!”

    • Since I can’t go to the toilet by myself if the daughters are home (privacy, what’s that?) they’ve seen lots of tampons, and my toddler even passed me a box of them from the drawer the other time when I accidentally dropped one in the bin with its wrapper. Still, I have avoided explaining the whole process to the 3 year old so far. When I was 11 or so my Mum gave me a nice book explaining it all. And an old fashioned sanitary towel belt with safety pins. A bit useless considering this was already the mid-80s!

  4. Sorry for the guy intrusion but the discussion just makes me think of how I always laugh when guys cringe at menses talk. Even my wife seems to think I should not want to hear.

    But I love it. Almost as much as I love Pirra’s bum-falling-off comment. That one is a keeper!

    • Rhiannon Saxon

      I LOVED the fact that I could ask my dad to buy tampons for me. (I should perhaps explain that because there are eight of us, the first four grew up in this sort of financially-strained, Dad being a total stresshead and mum being at home, Catholic schools household, and when us second four came along, Dad was studying (and experimenting with different religions) and much happier, Mum was working and much happier, we had a little more money, and we went to state schools, so we have had almost completely different upbringings.)
      ANYWAY the point of this laboured anecdote was that I remember being STUNNED when I was recounting some menstrual story surrounded by various brothers and brothers-in-law , and my sister hissed ‘Not in mixed company!” at me…and that was a surprise. I didn’t realise it was still a gender-specific-not-to-be-mentioned topic.
      Mind you I am also a chronic over-sharer. On the principle of ‘A trouble shared is a trouble halved’ everyone I know knows all about my barium enema…I reason that if I keep on halving my ‘trouble’, I will have almost none left and all my friends will carry away small bits of horror.

      Actually on that barium enema story, it is very difficult not to crack up when one’s proctologist comes along and introduces himself as ‘Dr. Cranny’.
      Also he had a fabulous bedside manner – he introduced himself and then said, ‘Today is going to painful, humiliating and undignified.”
      And you know…he was right.

      (How many random facts about me is that? A few I would say, albeit un-numbered.)

    • It makes me want to have kids just so I can use those two lines.

  5. In France, I remember the tradition when you got your first period was to receive “une claque”. Oh yes, I’m not making it up. A slap across your face for your coming of age. Those Frenchies sure know how to treat the ladeez! As a teenager I never understood it and neither did my mother thankfully. (It was a mother/daughter thing apparently). She was and still is, wonderful, tactful, realistic, supportive and honest. It was just something all the kids talked about back then (late 80s). Not that I recall anyone actually recounting a slapping incident. Just the mythology associated with it, I suppose. I *must* research where it comes from…

  6. Pingback: A panoply of song | the news with nipples

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