Our book store has sold a gazillion copies of the female erotica book 'Fifty Shades of Grey".
Women come in and buy the first one (often in some embarrassment) and then next day slap the next two on the counter with a grin. Okay it's not for everyone, but I get sick of people moaning about it's lack of literary depth. Uh hello people- EL laughingallthewaytothebank James has obviously tapped into a very important thing here and she wasn't aiming to arouse the Pullitzer judges.
If you think you can do better, please give it a shot because I can tell you you have a very large and very hungry female audience!
However, when our only male shop assistant greeted an awaited shipment of these books and said "Well, the desperate housewives will be happy", I got really cross and gave it to the poor guy- Why are sexually interested men just men and sexually interested women 'desperate housewives?'
Dare I say, boredom in the extreme. Obviously we have a very large portion of the population who are well and truly alive and vital and dying for a bit of the hot stuff. A lot of these people must be married. Is this book hitting nerves because many readers are long-time married or long-time single and are bored and lonely?
Let's just say that as I passed a 'juice' stand manned by 20-something gym members yesterday and noticed all the attentive customers were aged about 50, I don't think the ladies were interested in just the fruit being hand-squeezed! Let's get rid of the tags like'desperate housewives' and 'cougar' which try and come across as amusingly self depracating and falsely empowering and have a good hard think about what's going on here.
Let's move beyond hoping your husbands beer gut shrinks a little and getting by on gratuitous novels only.
Let's aknowledge that we are well and truly bloody alive and set about filling those needs- because it's harder to do naked cartwheels at 80.
I do not wish them to have power over men, but over themselves. ~Mary Wollstonecraft
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Sunday, October 2, 2011
I am a Feminist!
The bus to your next chapter always arrives on time I find.
The new destination for me turned out to be feminism and the first leg was a book called 'How to be a Woman' by Caitlin Moran. Absolutely brilliant read. I wish all my learning had me snorting with laughter. Really this book is as much biographical as a discussion on feminism, but whatever you want to file it under, it is really bloody funny. Tre gaffaw.
And so there is my husband on his side of the bed, quietly reading 'A Game of Thrones' and then me on my side, slapping my thigh, tears rolling down my face, stuffing the doona in my gob to muffle my laughter. It is pointless reading him the extra marvellous bits, he just shrugs and looks bemused by my beaming blotchy face.
I probably won't buy a slogan t-shirt, but Caitlin helped me want to be a feminist. Actually, can I say here that I think the word 'feminist' is a little bit wimpy, like a fairy with a lisp. Which is ironic because it's all about empowering. But anyway, it's not that I didn't have views on the state of women, it's just that i was always a bit scared of Germaine Greer and thought if I declared myself a feminist, people would think I was a hairy, angry, argumentative man-hater. And really, I think people found me a little trying already.
Anyway, Now I know more about what a feminist really is, I can pop my name on the list of endorsers and I feel a few more buttons pop off the Coat Of Learnt Restraint. Being in a bookstore is handy because now I am devouring some more related reads. Of course, I have got Germaine Greer and Simone de Beauvoir which I will read with the light on, but right now the two I am reading and which I can highly recommend are "Nice Girls Just Don't Get It' by Lois P Frankel and Carol M Frohlinger and then 'Shattered' by Rebecca Asher.
The "Nice Girls' book is just fantastic for anyone who is afraid to put her full self out there for fear of offending someone (I think we all do this in some degree) and 'Shattered' whose full title includes- 'Modern motherhood and the illusion of equality' is for any parent or parent to be. This book is very much about men too and not in a negative way. It's really about antenatal care, maternity/paternity leave, work practices and relationship dynamics as ruled by the state, employers and the parenting industry.
These books are red pills I choose to take and open my eyes further to what is around me. Once I see clearly what I am wading ankle deep in on a daily basis I am empowered to change things for the better. I am really excited for myself, and I am also proud to be a better example for my children.
I think it is a hard line to walk between fear and equality, but humour really is a great travel companion.
The new destination for me turned out to be feminism and the first leg was a book called 'How to be a Woman' by Caitlin Moran. Absolutely brilliant read. I wish all my learning had me snorting with laughter. Really this book is as much biographical as a discussion on feminism, but whatever you want to file it under, it is really bloody funny. Tre gaffaw.
And so there is my husband on his side of the bed, quietly reading 'A Game of Thrones' and then me on my side, slapping my thigh, tears rolling down my face, stuffing the doona in my gob to muffle my laughter. It is pointless reading him the extra marvellous bits, he just shrugs and looks bemused by my beaming blotchy face.
I probably won't buy a slogan t-shirt, but Caitlin helped me want to be a feminist. Actually, can I say here that I think the word 'feminist' is a little bit wimpy, like a fairy with a lisp. Which is ironic because it's all about empowering. But anyway, it's not that I didn't have views on the state of women, it's just that i was always a bit scared of Germaine Greer and thought if I declared myself a feminist, people would think I was a hairy, angry, argumentative man-hater. And really, I think people found me a little trying already.
Anyway, Now I know more about what a feminist really is, I can pop my name on the list of endorsers and I feel a few more buttons pop off the Coat Of Learnt Restraint. Being in a bookstore is handy because now I am devouring some more related reads. Of course, I have got Germaine Greer and Simone de Beauvoir which I will read with the light on, but right now the two I am reading and which I can highly recommend are "Nice Girls Just Don't Get It' by Lois P Frankel and Carol M Frohlinger and then 'Shattered' by Rebecca Asher.
The "Nice Girls' book is just fantastic for anyone who is afraid to put her full self out there for fear of offending someone (I think we all do this in some degree) and 'Shattered' whose full title includes- 'Modern motherhood and the illusion of equality' is for any parent or parent to be. This book is very much about men too and not in a negative way. It's really about antenatal care, maternity/paternity leave, work practices and relationship dynamics as ruled by the state, employers and the parenting industry.
These books are red pills I choose to take and open my eyes further to what is around me. Once I see clearly what I am wading ankle deep in on a daily basis I am empowered to change things for the better. I am really excited for myself, and I am also proud to be a better example for my children.
I think it is a hard line to walk between fear and equality, but humour really is a great travel companion.
Monday, July 18, 2011
The Slumbering Corpse Awakens
Part of my new tough love regime is 'Morning Pages'. Thought I'd share todays.
It’s ten to six. Obviously in telling you I am going for full sympathy or admiration.
I’ll take either if you fall for it. Truth is I woke up, it seemed light through the chinks in the blind, and the crazy skylight we installed in a retarded moment (it was dark in there that day. Truly.) so I got up because I knew I had to go into work early and it was surely minutes away from the alarm going off.
It wasn’t. It was 5am. Ugh.
So I slap myself in the forehead mentally with a mallet and put the kettle on. Nothing but drinking coffee can make these moments work out okay. And so here I am doing morning pages before even the first zingy young kookaburra can clear its throat.
What to write about? Oh I don’t know. What is there beyond moaning? I have to go to work, blah, blah (I volunteered), I have to go early (I always say I am a morning person), it’s cold (I tell people I hate the heat), I’m tired (because I had a big party), I feel a bit off on the tummy (because I have been eating too much crap), my skin doesn’t look good (see last note), it’s that time of the month (been happening this way for the last 25 years, were you expecting something different this time?) and the pets need feeding (you went out of your way to convince husband you needed them, searched extensively for them, paid big cash for them and have had them for years where they gave you love and devotion for free and ask little in return and don’t complain about often b-grade care, what do you want from these poor creatures exactly?).
So there you have it. Poor me in my nice snug house, having to go have a hot shower in my new bathroom to put on new clothes to drive to work in my new car to work in a bookshop. Life is, obviously hell for me. Boo-hoo.
It’s ten to six. Obviously in telling you I am going for full sympathy or admiration.
I’ll take either if you fall for it. Truth is I woke up, it seemed light through the chinks in the blind, and the crazy skylight we installed in a retarded moment (it was dark in there that day. Truly.) so I got up because I knew I had to go into work early and it was surely minutes away from the alarm going off.
It wasn’t. It was 5am. Ugh.
So I slap myself in the forehead mentally with a mallet and put the kettle on. Nothing but drinking coffee can make these moments work out okay. And so here I am doing morning pages before even the first zingy young kookaburra can clear its throat.
What to write about? Oh I don’t know. What is there beyond moaning? I have to go to work, blah, blah (I volunteered), I have to go early (I always say I am a morning person), it’s cold (I tell people I hate the heat), I’m tired (because I had a big party), I feel a bit off on the tummy (because I have been eating too much crap), my skin doesn’t look good (see last note), it’s that time of the month (been happening this way for the last 25 years, were you expecting something different this time?) and the pets need feeding (you went out of your way to convince husband you needed them, searched extensively for them, paid big cash for them and have had them for years where they gave you love and devotion for free and ask little in return and don’t complain about often b-grade care, what do you want from these poor creatures exactly?).
So there you have it. Poor me in my nice snug house, having to go have a hot shower in my new bathroom to put on new clothes to drive to work in my new car to work in a bookshop. Life is, obviously hell for me. Boo-hoo.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Search for the Real Isis
Oh my God, I've been playing dress-ups so the world loves me- Urrrgghh.
Sorry everyone, but I'm no longer going to keep up this well-meant blog.
It seems to me, no-one will ever take women seriously or equally, if we're focused on how we look. I've realised when the made-over woman on TV cries with happiness, it's because she now feels worthy- what a false concept. I know some of them are naked- but they've got make-up on, a new hair-do and it's all tastefully photographed.Plus she's being told how beautiful she is. She looks good, she feels good. That's a false concept.
I realise that as long as outward beauty equals self-esteem, our little girls will grow up like many of us did- looks equals attention, favour, popularity, success (love and acceptance).And from the state of how I see many dress, it seems they're crying out even harder than we did. How do you wound a little girl? Tell her she's ugly. Boys don't cop that one.
Sorry to drag you along on my own little journey. Things have been troubling me about all this for a bit and when I answered some questions recently about my priorities , it just all came to a head.
I'm going to search for what it is the be a real woman. For me all I know for now, is it's not being a second class citizen, but it's not being a man either. That leaves a lot of searching in between to be done!
I'm going to try and bypass all I've had shoved into my head over a lifetime and work it out, then aim for that. For me I've realised, no amount of pleasing appearances are going to give real self-esteem and it's certainly not going to leave the planet a better place for our children. Wish me the true gifts of courage and wisdom, and may you all find your true Isis. x
Sorry everyone, but I'm no longer going to keep up this well-meant blog.
It seems to me, no-one will ever take women seriously or equally, if we're focused on how we look. I've realised when the made-over woman on TV cries with happiness, it's because she now feels worthy- what a false concept. I know some of them are naked- but they've got make-up on, a new hair-do and it's all tastefully photographed.Plus she's being told how beautiful she is. She looks good, she feels good. That's a false concept.
I realise that as long as outward beauty equals self-esteem, our little girls will grow up like many of us did- looks equals attention, favour, popularity, success (love and acceptance).And from the state of how I see many dress, it seems they're crying out even harder than we did. How do you wound a little girl? Tell her she's ugly. Boys don't cop that one.
Sorry to drag you along on my own little journey. Things have been troubling me about all this for a bit and when I answered some questions recently about my priorities , it just all came to a head.
I'm going to search for what it is the be a real woman. For me all I know for now, is it's not being a second class citizen, but it's not being a man either. That leaves a lot of searching in between to be done!
I'm going to try and bypass all I've had shoved into my head over a lifetime and work it out, then aim for that. For me I've realised, no amount of pleasing appearances are going to give real self-esteem and it's certainly not going to leave the planet a better place for our children. Wish me the true gifts of courage and wisdom, and may you all find your true Isis. x
Monday, May 31, 2010
Soy Chicken Fillets
For a while now I have known that at some point I needed to investigate underwear. 'Investigate?' Sounds like a job for Bazoomba Woman!
Anyway, apparently $2 Best and Less knickers will just not pass muster. Now ladies, you may be very or vaguely aware that there is underwear out there that can enhance your bust,flatten your tummy, slim your thighs, firm your butt and attract Brad Pitt. Well, all but the last are available, made just to help us look more wonderful. I just wonder if they have an entire Elle Macpherson latex jumpsuit I could just pop on and save time.
I have seen this stuff in department stores. I usually stand about 3 metres away and pretend I'm not looking at it, whilst secretly trying to check it out and wondering if there is a free crowbar thrown in for ease of applying. I mean, is breathing still possible in this stuff? Do you have a little oxygen tank stitched in, somewhere discreet? I don't want to go all Victorian and faint delicately in the playground whilst picking up the kids. Though looking as hot as I would perhaps some handsome dad might offer to resusitate me?...No, look it just isn't worth being uncomfortable. And uncomfortable was how I was feeling about checking this gear out.
So I decided to start small with one thing and work my way up as I got more comfortable about it all (read: less chicken) Speaking of chicken what I decided was to check out the things that are called 'Chicken fillets'. You know, they go in your bra and either give you a bust or else reinflate what you have left after kids, goddam it. So there I am in the shop and I'm staring at this gear on the wall, thinking, how about I try and be funny and ask whether they have those in a 'soy' as I'm a vego, when someone terrified me by saying "May I help you?"
I was shocked into saying, "Err, yes, I was wondering about those." Honestly, I felt like I was asking for something naughty from under the counter! And of course you're trying to be cool as well as an ass, so it's quite hard work. Anyway, lets just say, before I knew what was happening I was stuffed into a cubicle by a pert twenty-something and handed a few bra's which have this little fillets in them in a little pocket. No room for car keys and loose change though. Now, I have never had a bra fitted. Well, maybe when I was 14 but the incident was so humiliating that I have blocked it from my mind and cement rendered over the top. Anyway, it turns out I have been wearing the wrong sizes. I tried on everything at 100 miles an hour so the girl wouldn't see me with my anatomy flung askew.That curtain had never been shut so well or so fast! In the end I have to say it was a good experience. The girl was really very nice, very discreet and non-invasive and I have to say that the bras I bought, though I had no such intention to purchese when I entered the shop, are great.
Being in a daze, I was coerced into buying matching knickers, which when I got home and tried on, do all the wrong things but look really impressive in my drawer with the Best and Less stuff shoved to the side. So there you go, not such a painful experience at all if you haven't already done it, go get fitted at a speciality shop: the girls are helpful and have the best poker faces in the industry- just don't get sucked into the overpriced dodgy knickers.
Anyway, apparently $2 Best and Less knickers will just not pass muster. Now ladies, you may be very or vaguely aware that there is underwear out there that can enhance your bust,flatten your tummy, slim your thighs, firm your butt and attract Brad Pitt. Well, all but the last are available, made just to help us look more wonderful. I just wonder if they have an entire Elle Macpherson latex jumpsuit I could just pop on and save time.
I have seen this stuff in department stores. I usually stand about 3 metres away and pretend I'm not looking at it, whilst secretly trying to check it out and wondering if there is a free crowbar thrown in for ease of applying. I mean, is breathing still possible in this stuff? Do you have a little oxygen tank stitched in, somewhere discreet? I don't want to go all Victorian and faint delicately in the playground whilst picking up the kids. Though looking as hot as I would perhaps some handsome dad might offer to resusitate me?...No, look it just isn't worth being uncomfortable. And uncomfortable was how I was feeling about checking this gear out.
So I decided to start small with one thing and work my way up as I got more comfortable about it all (read: less chicken) Speaking of chicken what I decided was to check out the things that are called 'Chicken fillets'. You know, they go in your bra and either give you a bust or else reinflate what you have left after kids, goddam it. So there I am in the shop and I'm staring at this gear on the wall, thinking, how about I try and be funny and ask whether they have those in a 'soy' as I'm a vego, when someone terrified me by saying "May I help you?"
I was shocked into saying, "Err, yes, I was wondering about those." Honestly, I felt like I was asking for something naughty from under the counter! And of course you're trying to be cool as well as an ass, so it's quite hard work. Anyway, lets just say, before I knew what was happening I was stuffed into a cubicle by a pert twenty-something and handed a few bra's which have this little fillets in them in a little pocket. No room for car keys and loose change though. Now, I have never had a bra fitted. Well, maybe when I was 14 but the incident was so humiliating that I have blocked it from my mind and cement rendered over the top. Anyway, it turns out I have been wearing the wrong sizes. I tried on everything at 100 miles an hour so the girl wouldn't see me with my anatomy flung askew.That curtain had never been shut so well or so fast! In the end I have to say it was a good experience. The girl was really very nice, very discreet and non-invasive and I have to say that the bras I bought, though I had no such intention to purchese when I entered the shop, are great.
Being in a daze, I was coerced into buying matching knickers, which when I got home and tried on, do all the wrong things but look really impressive in my drawer with the Best and Less stuff shoved to the side. So there you go, not such a painful experience at all if you haven't already done it, go get fitted at a speciality shop: the girls are helpful and have the best poker faces in the industry- just don't get sucked into the overpriced dodgy knickers.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Travelwear
I've been away and apologise if you've been standing there with your colour chart and body shape chart, all keen and fired up for the next step. Unfortunately, I can't put you out of your misery today either as I have so much to do but I would like to say a few things about clothes and travelling that I think is vital, lest you too do yourself an injury as i most certainly did. Repeatedly.
I was very pleased with myself when I packed for my holiday. For once my clothes all sort of matched and were flattering in shape and colour. What a fashion plate I would be. Alas, my plans began to unravel one hour into my flight when I sensed my lower body was not receiving sufficient blood supply due to my lovely jeans never having been designed for actual long-lasting comfort. This was a pattern for the whole holiday. I'd sit down and my thighs etc, were clamped in a vice. I had all nice clothes but it was mostly unsuitable for what we got up to. For instance, there I was, a calf sucking on my hand at a petting farm in my nice tailored jacket, covered in Alpaca wool fluff, mixed animal manure on my lovely boots. The cute animals all tried to eat my scarf and the tassels on my handbag.
The friends we stayed with were casual dressers so I never needed my going-out-for- dinner ballgown that I packed. Since I took 95% of the photo's I was barely in any so my coordinating gear will never be seen. But imagine I looked very nice. But if you looked closely you would have seen the pain in my eyes from my strangling clothes far-outdoing any pleasure I felt from looking nice. Just not worth it! Every afternoon when we got back I would throw on tights and a loose jumper, the only thing I had with me that was comfortable. Our hosts, who worked in the day, politely never mentioned that I was in the same outfit every time they saw me!
So, conclusion: It is great to look nice but comfort is more important. If you have to suck in a gut, or the clothes leave marks on your skin or raise your blood pressure this is no good. Prioritise comfort as you will need your body in one piece for some time yet!
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Session 2- Colour Analysis
I really think colour analysis is a helpful thing but be aware that the word analysis has got a smaller word in it that could describe you if you take it all too seriously. From what I have researched it seems to be merely a helpful guide. This time I did not use a book but simply Googled 'colour analysis'. One helpful and easy site was collegefashion.net. It has a simple chart you can work your way through to discover your colour and then all the details you may want on it (complete with cute little swatch spots). This site still uses the idea of breaking everyone up into seasons. Apparently this is not always used nowadays but I like it.As a loose guide,if you are caucasian you are likely to be a Spring or Autumn. If you are Asian,Latino or African you will be a Winter or Summer. If you are from off-planet I'm not really sure.
The chart gets you to use your eye, hair and skin colours as a guide to find your season. As I change my hair colour regularly this caused a little confusion, but I still ended up as a Spring. As my hair is normally dark ash blonde (I think. Haven't seen it for some time),my eyes are green and my skin a golden beige, I would be a light spring. But since my hair is an amber/caramel colour at the mo I would, instead be a Warm Spring. Alrighty then!
Based on what I found, I see that some of my favourite colours are recommended for me. There are also colours in my swatch I just don't like, and I wouldn't wear them but if I am still left with 10 flattering colours,I am happy. This means when I go clothes shopping I can first look at styles that suit my body shape and can now narrow it down to those only in my best colours. I may have narrowed it down to only a quarter of any shop, but I feel confident that I can save time and money buying only things that actually make me look better. Now theres and idea!
The chart gets you to use your eye, hair and skin colours as a guide to find your season. As I change my hair colour regularly this caused a little confusion, but I still ended up as a Spring. As my hair is normally dark ash blonde (I think. Haven't seen it for some time),my eyes are green and my skin a golden beige, I would be a light spring. But since my hair is an amber/caramel colour at the mo I would, instead be a Warm Spring. Alrighty then!
Based on what I found, I see that some of my favourite colours are recommended for me. There are also colours in my swatch I just don't like, and I wouldn't wear them but if I am still left with 10 flattering colours,I am happy. This means when I go clothes shopping I can first look at styles that suit my body shape and can now narrow it down to those only in my best colours. I may have narrowed it down to only a quarter of any shop, but I feel confident that I can save time and money buying only things that actually make me look better. Now theres and idea!
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