You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘Sex’ category.

A full body picture of me

A full figure picture of me

I read a blog today by Leigh Patrick called “What a Straight White Man Knows About Strong Women”. In the blog Patrick talks about the strong women of his family. It is this interaction with a few emotionally and psychologically strong women that Patrick assumes he understands feminism. In a Twitter battle where he first accuses me of saying that all men are potential rapists and later calls me an idiot and a psycho, I get the full brunt of his “understanding”. But someone somewhere is missing the point.

I’ve heard the same refrain over and over from other people. It goes like this; person A has met or lived with a woman who is strong and intelligent. This leads person A into the false sense that this experience leads them to have an understanding of what women are like/go through in their lives. The idea being that because the woman or women in their lives were strong that means that all women are strong or have a well of strength to draw upon. After all, this one or few women did it, why can’t they all be like that?

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if women and girls around the world were able to draw upon such a well of strength on command? Shouldn’t we all be able to share in this strength? It’s been proven that it can be done. Why not?

Let’s start with circumstances. I’m privileged to live in Canada, a country that embraces diversity and supports those who cannot support themselves. As a Metis woman, I draw upon a culture that has a rich heritage from my Metis side and embody that stubborn Scots blood that runs so thickly through my veins. Yet I realize my privilege and I still struggle with anxiety daily. I see the problems women around me have that are not of their own doing.

I can honestly say I don’t know what it’s like to be a young girl who gets shot for posting a video on YouTube explaining why she wants to go to school. Yet, Malala Yousafzai is one of my heroes. I don’t know what it’s like to be a young girl in Nigeria, ripped away from her home and family simply because she had the audacity to go to school. My heart bleeds for them. I have never been a five year old girl enduring a genital mutilation without anesthetic where my labia is ripped away all in the belief that it will ensure my virginity will remain intact. I have never miscarried five times as a result of beatings administered by a man who kidnapped me and held me as a slave in his basement. Nor have I been a woman who has survived giving birth to a child in that basement amid terror and pain. I am lucky.

The person who has known the strong woman doesn’t understand what it’s like to be a curvy woman and to feel the fear she feels just going outside. He doesn’t hear the whispers or see the stares as she walks down the street. They don’t know what it is to be a young woman dressed in a short skirt on a spring day to get leered at and have guys assume she’s a slut simply because of what she wears. Those strong women don’t look in a mirror and hate what they see because the media says they aren’t perfect. They don’t spent three to four hours on makeup trying to hide the flaws that only they see. Flaws that are beautiful like the brush strokes on a painting.

I’ve heard people rip apart female celebrities because of what they were wearing to an event. Call into question their very existence because of a few snips of fabric. I’m tempted to tell the celebrities to start going naked and see how that fixes the critics’ little red wagon. If a woman like Angelina Jolie is torn down because of a dress, how much better can I fare when wearing shorts from Walmart?

I see women endure abuse, abuse themselves, hurt themselves, hate themselves, injure and kill themselves all because of the pain they hold inside. A woman who is a saint, a mother, a nanny, a caregiver, a grandmother is held in esteem and may be forgiven those mistakes and flaws they have made of themselves. A slut, a whore, a cunt, a bitch, a vixen, a succubus can never be forgiven. She must be ridiculed and beaten down for the error of believing her sexuality, her being is her own. She must be transformed into the Virgin Mary so society can feel safe around her. She must have a husband, although a wife is allowable in some circumstances, to keep her from straying away from her path and becoming a danger to all around her. She must never alter her gender, her genetic code defines her. We do not talk about those unfortunate few who have an XY gene but pretend they are female.

So many women have lost their voices and do not wish to or cannot speak out. They hide in terror at being less than perfect and mutilate their every flaw or imperfection. If I could say one thing to those women it would be this; please show those flaws. They are beautiful. Those scars, those pains, those small things that make you who you are. Please paint them so I can see them. Please be proud of them. They are your flowers. They are your voice. They are you and they are beautiful.

I understand, Mr. Patrick, that you’ve had a few strong women in your life and I applaud them. Most of us, though, aren’t that strong. We’re scared and afraid of the ridicule and scorn we face daily. So we’d appreciate it if, until you’ve experienced some of that, if you’d kindly keep your opinions to yourself. We’ve had enough opinions of who we should be in our lives. We really don’t need another.

Advertisements

A woman is dead.

Everyone should cry out in horror and shame and mourn her death. Who was she? Was she a world leader like Margaret Thatcher? No. A religious figure like Mother Theresa, then? Not at all. A celebrity like Bette Davis? No. Who was she, then?

I don’t know, but I cry for her.

She was just a mother and wife. Maybe she had brothers and sisters. How many children? I don’t know. But her death is immortalized on this video. You can see her crouching in the background. Just a grey spot on the ground while men mill around her. The guns fire and she drops. The men show no more emotion than if they’d just killed a hyena. Less, probably. They’re probably late for lunch.

So what did she do? She must have killed her children. No. She poisoned her husband. Not at all. She must have stolen another woman’s child. Not even close.

She is accused of committing adultery. Accused. She wasn’t even found guilty of adultery. Only accused.

This is what happens when ANYONE feels the need to control another being’s sexuality so much that the mere accusation of wrongdoing merits death. This wasn’t about her. This was about the MEN of the Taliban. This was about their lack of manhood. Their lack of understanding, appreciation and respect for what their own god, Allah, created.

I am not Muslim. I am Wiccan, but I can have respect and understanding for another’s faith. Islam is a wonderful religion and full of rich traditions and stories. As a writer, I have found my writings have been enriched by reading the religious texts of various faiths. I highly recommend it.

The Taliban are not true Muslims. They are a small extremist group much in the same way that Jim Jones’s People’s Church was an extremist version of Christianity. What the Taliban do disgusts me.

Three women in burkas standing on a streetcorner

Three women in burkas standing on a street corner

Publically, the Taliban has stated that they instituted changes for women in the attempt to protect their dignity. Women are banned from working except in health care, going outside their home unless they are covered from head to toe in a burka. As well, girls were not allowed an education until the Taliban finally relented and allowed girls under 12 to get an education.

It’s fairly common for women to be beaten, raped and tortured for something as simple as being  uncovered. Ladies, imagine having to wear your bedsheet all day long while shopping or taking the kids to the park. This is one very psychotic, very fringe element preserving women’s dignity. Thank whoever you pray to that these nutballs didn’t get ahold of the idea of female circumcision (which I will talk about another time).

Men, can you imagine your wife going to the store. A man on the street sees her and lusts after her. The man goes to the local “authority” and tells them she committed adultery. The Taliban come and get her and shoot her. You come home from work and your wife is dead.

Reports say that things are improving in Afghanistan for people all around. However, there are still problems in the small towns and outlying areas. Let me state this again VERY CLEARLY; the Taliban are not Muslim. They are an extremist group and should not been seen as the standard for Muslim practice.

Let me tell you what I’ve seen of the Islamic tradition. If you walk into a shop owned by Muslims and say, “Salaam,” they will smile broadly and greet you back warmly. They cannot welcome you enough. I don’t recommend drinking the coffee, though. That stuff is enough to keep you awake for a week. My Muslim friends answer all my questions happily even though some of them are pretty silly (for example, “what is the Islamic stance on life on other planets?” A debate that lasted several hours). Most Muslims, men and women, are educated, well-spoken, polite people. They have a great deal of respect for others and even welcome an old witch like me to their mosques (so long as I don’t cast any spells which I’m good with). The food is good, if spicy (I’m allergic to peppers) and the company is wonderful. I even knew a Muslim family that took in their friend’s child for a period when the friend was unable to look after her due to health reasons. The child was loved and cherished by all and regards that family as her second family.

Muslims are good people.

The Taliban are just power-hungry psychopaths who feel the need to control everyone.

Our troops went to Afghanistan to help make things better. It couldn’t have been easy and I, for one, thank them for their work. They faced conditions most of us will only see in the movies and, even then, have difficulty imagining. If you know of someone who went to the Middle East. Thank them and give them a hug.

Some day our children’s children will look back in horror in the same way we now look at Auschwitz and say, “how could you do that?” It is my dream that they will never hear about a nameless, faceless woman crouching in the grey dirt being shot to death for something she’s only accused of doing. Some day these horrors will be a thing of the past.

Until then,

a woman is dead.

Let’s talk about sex. It’s a subject everyone has an opinion on from the 15-year-old virgin to the 82-year-old grandmother.

I’ve been noticing a trend in Hollywood lately; every time there’s a bad guy, he’s got some sexual deviance that has turned him into a serial killer. That’s not good PR for those of us who have sexual deviances and enjoy them. By Hollywood standards, I should have half a dozen bodies in the yard by now.

So let’s list off my kinks, shall we? I’m a libertine which means pretty much anything goes anyways. I really have a thing for breasts (female breasts. I still can’t wrap my head around moobs). I’m a switch which, in bdsm terms, means I can either be dominant or submissive (depending on my mood). I have a desire to have a threesome with two men and have already had a threesome involving one man and two women (actually, a few times). I have toys such as vibrators, a glass dildo, scarves (for bondage and blindfolds) and a riding crop. Whee!

All too often I see people giggling behind their hands when the topic of sex comes up like adolescents and it confuses me. Why? Sex is a natural part of being alive and it’s time we stopped treating it like it’s something dirty or taboo. Let me tell you, sometimes the best sex is very dirty. Let’s get one thing out in the open. Sex is rarely about procreation. We are human and, as such, we are social creatures and everything we do is to re-emphasize that social contact. From work to hobbies to having sex is all about reinforcing our position within a social network. Now, stop giggling behind your hand and get a few myths out of the way.

  • Men are only interested in sex with other men if they’re bi or gay. WRONG!!! This may seem at odds with what you understand, but sometimes straight men are curious about sex with other men. I know of men who have sex with other men as an indulgence. One guy told me that men give the best blowjobs. He loved blowjobs so when he found a guy who liked doing them he didn’t feel any need to turn that down. Men have a penis and know very well how their’s works but it is normal and natural to see if another guy’s works the same way. Read the rest of this entry »

So when do you determine a relationship is toxic and you need out?

Any relationship; lover, friend, family, work, whatever. When does it go from slightly abusive to toxic? What’s the line? What do you do when you get there?

A few years back I suffered from medication induced anxiety. I was misdiagnosed with anxiety, put on medication designed to help it and, in a grand feat of irony, began to worsen. The correct diagnosis was REM Behavior Disorder. During this time something amazing happened. Most of my friends exited my life. Two stuck around, but all the others who claimed to love and support me took off. Suddenly they couldn’t deal with me barfing every time I went to the store for groceries and it wasn’t fun when I sat in a corner quietly crying when they took me off to a party. There were times when I made an honest effort to overcome the anxiety and tried to talk to people, but I came off as loud and weird. All those people who swore that my friendship meant a lot to them suddenly left.

At the time it was devastating. I felt alone and abandoned and wondered how I would cope. In that time, the two friends who remained quietly stood by my side during some of the darkest days I have ever known. It’s a horrifying thing to be trapped inside your mind and these two men supported me while I ranted, raved, cried, ran in terror and eventually broke out of my prison. That is a type of friendship that goes beyond words and simple thank yous. To this day I still mist up when I think of these amazing men. When it came time to bury my father, one friend stood and held an umbrella over my head in the pouring rain. He got soaked to the skin so I could stay dry and say good-bye to my dear father.

Now that part of my life is over and I’m able to give back to these wonderful men who should, in my eyes, be given medals for what they’ve done for me. They don’t even have to ask now, if I can help them in any way to make their lives easier or better, I do it. I don’t even think about it. They’ve earned that much and more.

I look back on that time and realize now there were blessings in having endured that. I learned a valuable lesson as to what a friend is and what a good, healthy relationship is. Not everyone can stand to see the person they love or care for go through that kind of thing and I still suffer from residual effects of that time. However, you do what you can for those who mean something to you.

A good relationship is a symbiotic relationship. Each gives according to their abilities and each takes according to their needs (see? Communism isn’t a complete loss). During that period, I needed a great deal and the two men who stuck around gave what they could. I didn’t ask for any more than that. Okay. I did ask that they put up with 10 to 15 calls a day, but that’s just the insanity.

At no time during this period was I toxic to the people around me. I was a problem to myself, but not to others around me. It sounds odd now to say it, but I felt that would be rude. It’s one thing to destroy your own life with your insanity, it’s another to destroy the lives of others. So that was just something I tried very hard not to do.

A lot of dead weight left my life when those other friends left for bluer skies and saner people. One friend was a coke addict and unable to function in a healthy way. Another was so self-centred, he had an affair on his wife and saw his mistress during her chemotherapy treatments. Looking back, I’m glad those people aren’t in my life.

I now have good people around me, including one friend who goes along with whatever zany idea I come up with and plays along happily. I can talk to her in a deep, meaningful way and she can depend on me to listen when she has a problem she needs to air. When I tell her I’ve decided to cultivate a superpower and she gets to pick one, too, she doesn’t even miss a beat. It’s a way we can play and have fun. We watch b-grade horror movies and eat nachos and laugh at each other’s lives and antics. It’s good. It’s healthy.

What do you do, though, when a relationship becomes toxic? For me, it’s my sister. I’m not sure I can describe the situation but I’ll try.

My sister is obsessed with appearances. She has a boxy little house in a boxy little neighbourhood with boxy little people driving boxy little cars and leading boxy little lives. She has an apple tree in the backyard and a trellis in the front. Her grass is always green and her sidewalk always shovelled. She has her friends that are appropriate and they go out for supper or play bridge. They watch movies like “The Notebook” and cry in all the appropriate points. They loved “The Hunger Games”.

I’m an embarrassment to her.

I am outspoken, not concerned with convention and would probably go on a killing spree if I had to live in that neighbourhood. Or, at the least, leave burning bags of dog poop everywhere. I talk about religion and sex and politics. I have several lovers and even (GASP!) have no love of monogamy. I hated “The Hunger Games” and wanted to gouge out my eyes during “The Notebook”. I don’t understand social subtlety (I’m a little like Dr. Sheldon Cooper on “Big Bang Theory”. My friends will actually point out to me when someone’s being sarcastic) and my apartment is usually a disaster.

I could live with all that if that’s all it were. It isn’t.

My sister displays signs of being extremely manipulative and controlling. I have suspicions about this, but as I’m not a professional, I won’t offer any kind of diagnosis. Her need to have everything appear a certain way in her life leads to destructive behaviour. She appears not to notice it or see what she’s doing. Often, in the past, she will blame the reaction to her behaviour on the recipient of her actions. For example, she will make some comment about how writing isn’t a “real” job. When I then become angry and defensive, she tells me I’m “being oversensitive”. I no longer wear certain clothes or talk about certain subjects with her. They become too volatile. She does not know I’m pansexual. She has made it clear that is unacceptable to her and she doesn’t want to know.

My relationship with my sister is toxic. I have reached the point in my life where I have determined that once my mother passes away, she will no longer be in my life (I don’t want to distress my mother as she has Alzheimer’s and wouldn’t be able to understand). From the time I was in my teens to the time I came out of my medication-induced insanity, she has convinced me there is something wrong with me. That I’m somehow defective. In an effort to please her, I have gone from one psychiatrist to another looking for this mysterious problem. Instead of concentrating on my life, my happiness and my career, I have chased after her phantoms. I know this doesn’t sound awful, but when you are bombarded with endless psychological and emotional abuse, it gets to be enough.

She is my sister and people tell me I’m supposed to love her no matter what. What if I can’t? What if loving and supporting her devastates my life as it has already?

I have decided there are times in your life when you need to cut certain people from your life. Even if that’s family. I asked myself the question, does this person make my life toxic? If the answer is yes, they’re gone. My sister creates a toxic waste in my very being that I cannot ignore any longer. Family is important, that’s true. However, my well-being is more important.

Gay Pride Couple With Bare Asses

A gay pride couple with their asses bared to the world

I’m proud to be who I am. I may not stand on tabletops, but I also don’t hide it. Let’s get the labels out there. I am a pansexual, polyamourist, switch libertine. Okay. That’s out of the way. When I saw the above photo, I got angry. I recognize the need to go out and be public. That I have no problem with. Seriously, though, is there a reason for hanging your ass out for the world to see? Every single other person in that photo is covered up and dressed normally. I don’t care how great your ass is, does it add to letting the world accept GLBPT people? Or are you just another exhibitionist who needs to be in a different type of parade? All too often I hear people saying gays are “fine” but that their behaviour is weird. These are generally open-minded people saying this. I’m often told that the objection is not about who the person wants to love or is attracted to or how they define their sexuality. Rather, people tell me they object to the behaviour. Oh, I know I’m going to get a lot of hassle about this, but come on, people. We’ve all met the butch lesbian and the flaming gay. I’m not talking a woman who is a tomboy. I am more tomboy than feminine most days. I’m talking the woman who goes out of her way to display her masculine qualities. Not a trans woman, just a lesbian who acts like she just walked off a pirate ship. Or how about the gay man who is so effeminate he has flames shooting out his ass? These are people who act in extreme ways to get attention. No one; straight, gay or other; likes to have behaviour thrown in their face. We condemn the Goths and Emos for doing it, why is it okay for the GLBPT group? When you’re marching in that parade, ask yourself why you’re there. Are you there to offer support to the community and show the world you don’t want or need to hide? Or are you there to get a cheap thrill? Does having your ass hang out further the GLBPT community’s agenda in any way? Or does it give the world another bit of weird behaviour to stare at? I, in no way, suggest that people be quiet about their sexual orientation but there is a time and place for everything. Come on, people. Our community needs to help the world understand and accept us. We don’t need to push the public further away through idiotic behaviour. Sgt. Brandon Morgan with boyfriend Dalan Wells kissing

This photo was posted on Facebook and showed a very happy Brandon Morgan and Dalan Wells reuniting after Morgan had returned home. It’s a touching, wonderful photo and no one’s ass is hanging out.

If our community is to be truly understood and accepted, we have to help people to understand. Understanding stops, communication stops, everything stops when your behaviour alienates people. A man I truly respect and admire is George Takei. Here is a man who lived in the internment camps of World War II (a pretty name for something so ugly done to a culture) and then came out as being gay at a time when “that sort of thing just wasn’t talked about”. He’s intelligent, witty and fights for what he believes in. If we have anyone to thank for forward movement in the GLBPT cause, he is certainly one. Yet, he doesn’t engage in outrageous behaviour. When it’s appropriate, he flames and has fun with it. When the situation calls for it, he’s all business.

Let’s be smart, people. If your behaviour is alienating others, then stop doing it. You have the right to love whom you choose but you don’t have the right to scare people. We are all human and humans are a social creature. We need each other to survive. That means making allowances for each other. If you’re straight and are curious about the GLBPT community, come ask. We like questions and we’re generally friendly. If you’re GLBPT, please don’t be a stereotype. You’re our spokesperson. How people see me depends on how you behave. Please represent me well and I’ll do the same for you.

And please cover up your ass.

Condom

Condom

I have a high sex drive.

A phenomenally high sex drive.

I always have. It’s something I’ve learned to live with and work around. I’m fairly certain that if I were a guy I’d have a hard on at least once every couple of hours. As a woman, it’s easier to hide sexual arousal.

My first sexual experimentation began when I was six with a female friend who was eight. We had an idea that if touching ourselves felt good, then touching someone else must feel good, too. Our experimentation continued and grew for about a year and a half when I moved away. After losing my friend, I continued to experiment on myself.

For a long time I was ashamed of this. The first horror to strike people is the idea that a six year old would even consider such a thing. After all, little girls wear pigtails and play with dolls, not each other. Understand that while there was arousal, it wasn’t the same as adult arousal. This was simply a physical response to stimulation. Neither of us knew, understood or cared about the psychological or emotional arousal happening. It was merely a matter of “let’s see what happens when I do this.” To this day people are horrified when they find this fact out about me. Personally, I don’t see it as bad or good, it just is. What amuses me, though, is little boys will masturbate as early as being in the womb and it’s seen as natural. Boys will be boys. However, a girl who does the same thing is seen as being unnatural. Boys will “play doctor” and that’s a source of amused pride. Girls experiment and it’s horrifying.

The second source of my shame was the fact that I was playing with another girl. I learned early and I learned fast that girls belong to boys. That’s it. In my early 20s I went to a psychologist because I thought I was somehow broken (I wasn’t, took me until my 40s to learn that). I told him of the incident and he let me know that unless I was willing to “purge” myself of the event, he couldn’t help me. When I refused, he stated that I was addicted to being sick. I never saw him again.

So, all through my life I’ve had an unbelieveably high sex drive. I would date men and wear them out. I had one guy break up with me because he complained he couldn’t keep up. I tried desperately to remain monogamous, but I hated that I had to curb my appetites. Of course, as I said earlier, I get aroused throughout the day so I’ve learned to ignore the feeling and go on. However, in an intimate relationship, it seemed like I should be able to go all night like I want to. By my 30s, I hit on something of a solution.

While going to the University of Alberta, I met a young engineering student. A hot little 20-something who was willing to play. For the first time, I met someone whose appetites matched my own. Since then I have actively sought out engineers. I have yet to be with an engineer who is a bad lover. I don’t know what it is, but I highly recommend engineers.

Younger men, it seemed, could keep up with my needs. I like young men. They have nice, hot, tight bodies and are generally willing to try most things. However, a relationship was not in the works.

I had grown tired of relationships. Always masturbating someone’s ego for the price of dinner. I never felt cared for, just like property. Younger men generally don’t want relationships with older women (though there are exceptions) and I’m good with that. Once I rid myself of the idea that I had to be in a relationship to be a whole woman, monogamy quickly followed out the window.

In the ensuing years I also found that I liked to play with some women, depending on their personalities. I’ve had a few alarming encounters but, for the most part, I’ve found that women are willing to play for longer periods. I like variety so, my new awareness of my sexuality enabled me to have various partners without guilt.

However, I am very aware of sexually transmitted diseases and infections.

Let me state this bluntly; if you are a sexually active adult and you do not get tested for STDs regularly, you’re an asshole. This may mean yearly or every couple of years. I try to do this every year or every couple of years.

Now let me make a confession. I’m kind of an asshole. It’s been more than two years since my last testing (which was clean at the time). I could give lots of excuses for this; I always use condoms, I haven’t had the time, I’ve been too stressed, whatever. They’re excuses and I admit it. As a sexually active adult I understand and am prepared for the outcomes of my actions. However, others shouldn’t have to pay for my actions. Tomorrow I go for testing like a responsible adult.

It’s at this point I have to make a plug. I always, ALWAYS use condoms. My preferred brand is Lifestyles “Skyn”, but I also like some Trojans as well. I prefer the thins, but I never have sex without a condom. I currently have a playmate (a friend I have sex with) and have been playing with him for a year and a half. We still use condoms.

I think of all the lives that have been lost because of STDs like AIDS. My hero, Freddy Mercury, succumbed to AIDS and died tragically. He still had so much more to do. I have more to do. Tomorrow I go for testing not because I think I have an STD, but to be sure that I don’t.

City of Edmonton Skyline

City of Edmonton Skyline

The amazing skyline in that photograph is my home, Edmonton, Alberta. I’ve lived here all my life and experienced many things; some good, some bad, some exciting, some mundane. Edmonton is a blue-collar city with a small town attitude and a big heart. I have seen this city pull together so often to combat some outrage or open their hearts and wallets to help someone in need. We are a caring city and I’m proud this is my home.

Which is why I’m so baffled by the Best Gore website.

I get that people are fascinated by the many ways we humans can destroy things. I’m a huge horror movie buff myself and was singing Alice Cooper lyrics in elementary school, much to the dismay of my teachers. That isn’t the problem. Alice Cooper, horror movies, Marilyn Manson, all of that is fantasy. It’s no more real than the Coyote from Bugs Bunny getting another anvil on his head. Best Gore is real.

The owner of the Best Gore website lives in Edmonton. So let’s look at the sequence of events concerning the Luka Magnotta video that appeared on his website. Magnotta creates the video, uploads it to the website, Mark Marek (the owner of Best Gore) sees it and calls police (according to him), Marek posts said video on his website. Huh?

Okay. Let’s assume Marek was concerned enough to alert the police about this video, which is a fact I am seeing conflicting information about and I have not been able to get in touch with Marek. Should that change, I will post his statements later. Getting back to this issue at hand, though, Marek was concerned enough to get the police involved or to cooperate with the police. He then posts the video that concerned him enough to his website? WTF?

Marek, so far, has said nothing substantial about his actions. He only states that he serves the public and puts the truth out there. I’d love to know what public he’s serving. There are graphic images of car accidents, animal encounters and assorted other depravities that it’s no wonder Magnotta posted there. I’ve got to ask myself, though, who goes to this site? Who on earth needs or wants to see this stuff?

Maybe, just maybe, an emergency personnel is using the site for training purposes. In a stretch I could see that. Who else? Let me say, if you’re visiting this site for yucks and giggles, you’re one sick fucker. What? “Saw” isn’t enough for you anymore? Now we have to create things like this site or the movie “The Human Caterpillar” to amp things up? Do we really need that?

Let’s put this into perspective. Imagine you’re the mother or father or brother or sister of Jin Lun. Let’s imagine Lun added love and laughter to your life. Let’s imagine Jin Lun in your life as a vital and integral part of your life. Now imagine him ripped away from you in a brutal and horrific manner. You’re Jin Lun’s mother and the child you carried in your belly for 9 months, fed, clothed, cleaned, played with, argued with, loved, watched sleep, sang to and watched grow has been brutally tortured and murdered. His last hours being ones of pain and fear. You’re Jin Lun’s father and you know there was nothing you could do to help save your son, the boy you taught to fish or to sing or read to at night or listened to at the dinner table or made pancakes with in the morning. He’s gone and you couldn’t help him. Let that image rip at your soul for a few minutes.

Now imagine it being posted on the Internet for the world to see.

Now tell me, Mr. Marek, how you were serving truth and you make no apologies for posting it. Now justify even owning a site like yours. Go ahead and scoff now. Isn’t it hilarious, Mr. Marek?

I’ve seen the site and it disgusts me. There is absolutely no truth or higher good a site like this serves. If it could be justified. If there was a purpose I’d leave it alone. There isn’t. For my part, I will be boycotting this website. It’s not much, but maybe if one person refuses to give this site any attention, maybe others will, too. Maybe then Marek will see that videos like these aren’t “truth” and aren’t serving any purpose.

Mr. Marek, you owe Jun Lin’s family an apology.

Full body picture of me

All of me

I am fat. Clinically the term is “obese”, but let’s call a duck a duck. Fat. I’m okay with that. It’s taken me a long time to sort through the garbage I hear from well-intentioned friends, family and even strangers. You’ve all heard the lines, “you’re not fat, you’re big.” Or, my favorite, “oh, don’t call yourself fat.” This one is usually mouthed by those who have been taught that hard truths are not to be spoken and hearing them makes them uncomfortable. Men will sometimes say, “I like you the way you are.” Really? Then why are you drooling over that hot little 20-something?I gained this weight while being mis-medicated for a condition I didn’t have. I’ve spoken about this before, but let me give you the soundbite. For years I was diagnosed with anxiety when, in fact, I had a sleeping disorder. I wasn’t anxious, I was tired. I was put on anti-anxiety meds that made me more anxious than what I was. This didn’t happen quickly, it happened slowly. I am one of those few people who reacted to the medication over a period of a year. By the end of two years on this medication my life had become a living nightmare. My sleeping was worse, I could barely function while trying to care for my parents, it took everything I had to just go out in public. Most days I went grocery shopping I wound up throwing up. Talk about a way to cut down your grocery bill. Most importantly, I gained weight and type II diabetes. When I finally came off the meds, it was a fresh set of hell. I’d been on them for years. I shook, I cried, I laughed hysterically, my sweat was rank and smelled like chemicals and I was not sleeping at all. That took about two months to get out of my system. However, the damage had been done.

The result of all of this was a big change in who I am. Once I was an outgoing, gregarious person. Now I’m horribly shy, prone to anxiety and fat. Before I was active and sexy. Now I love my computer far too much and am badly overweight. I’m reclaiming myself, but this isn’t an overnight thing. That’s important for people to understand. Most people I meet feel that since the medications are out of my system, I should just rebound back to who I was. That’s nice and it works in Hollywood, but reality is something different.

Let’s take stock of what happened. I was living in a hell that few people can understand. Yes, I’m out of there now, but when you’re there survival takes over and you do whatever’s necessary to keep going. You learn quickly that the coping mechanisms serve to keep you safe. When you take away the medication there’s no longer a need for the coping mechanisms but you’ve been doing them for so long you don’t remember any other way. I’d like to be that gregarious, outgoing person again. However, shyness and being socially awkward served to keep me safe. There is a part of me inside that screams in terror whenever I try to break my old habits. I try not to listen, but it’s still there.

What has this to do with me being fat? That’s simple. Just as it took me years to build up these habits, it’s taken me years to get fat. If I cannot be expected to change those anxiety habits overnight, what on earth makes me think I can change being fat overnight? That’s a secret that has been eluding me for years and now I’m sharing it with you.

Dr. Arya Sharma has been saying for a long time now that there are no instant fixes for obesity. I was shocked to hear that if a doctor sees a 400 pound patient and all that happens is the patient doesn’t GAIN weight it’s considered a win. Let’s look at that. Pretend you are 400 pounds. Dressing in the morning is a chore. Sweats and t-shirts are easier so you resort to those. If you’re a woman, forget about bras. Underwear is obnoxious at that weight. Cleaning the house? Ha! Hire a maid. People laugh at you and point. If you have kids, they’re ashamed of you. You go to the doctor because finally you’re going to do something about it. The doctor and you create a healthy eating plan and exercise regimen. Six months later you return to the doctor and you’ve lost five pounds. You’re discouraged, but your doctor is ecstatic. Why?

In our Barbie-driven, Disney hallucination world, we believe that eat right and exercise is the Be All And End All of weight loss. Isn’t that what Dr. Oz says? Weight Watchers has built an empire around that philosophy. Jenny Craig relies on it to make money. The mantra goes that if you eat right and exercise you will lose weight. That is true. To a point.

Eating right is always a good idea. We live in a wealthy society where we can get sufficient food and water for our nutritional needs. We should take advantage of that. However, what all these diets and health gurus and nonsense fails to mention is time. A person like me doesn’t get here overnight. This has taken 44 years to build up. What on earth makes anyone think that I can undo 44 years of damage, both mentally and physically, in six months? If I said to someone who had degenerative arthritis that exercise could help them and then expected them to be up and walking normally in six months, I’d get laughed at. Yet, fat is different in our minds.

We link obesity with laziness and stupidity. There was an episode of “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” where Will is given a fat suit by Susan Powter. She makes the point that Will is in shape and is healthy but that he knows nothing of what life is like for his uncle. Will is challenged by Susan to wear a fat suit all day. It’s a hilarious episode, one of their best, but it makes a point. Will finally sees what carrying all that weight around is like. He finally sees the day to day problems the obese have like doing simple things like grocery shopping. There is another side to this episode, too. Things that aren’t said. His uncle is far from lazy or stupid. He tries to lose weight and is seen interacting with his family in a healthy way. When they show him eating it’s generally healthy (a few snacks to get laughs) and he is not a stupid man. He’s a judge. This episode is one of my favourites and I wish I could email Will Smith and thank him for airing it.

Obesity is a lifelong challenge. As problematic as alcoholism and as difficult to treat as addiction. Every day we see stars who have babies and lose the weight within a month or two. Sometimes less. We forget they have personal trainers and dietitians and money to get liposuction and Photoshop. I don’t. Oddly, I find that obesity is most often a problem among those who are poor. This isn’t a statistic I’ve looked up, it’s just a personal observation.

We need solutions to obesity that are going to treat it as the lifelong problem it is. Don’t tell me to eat less and exercise. I already know that. Don’t blame me when I’m not losing weight as fast as you think I should. Don’t stare at me when, for the first time in a month or two, I’ve bought fast food. I’m treating myself. Let’s start changing the way we look at obesity. The obese are not the sub-human creatures painted in Hollywood. We’re real people with a real problem. Maybe the first step in treating obesity is changing what we think obesity is.

Danielle Smith Boob Bus

Danielle Smith Boob Bus

I suffer from night terrors. Night terrors differ from nightmares in that when you wake up, you don’t fully come out of the dream. So, you wake up and the monster you’ve been running from is now there in your bedroom. Not fun. In these dreams things start out innocuous enough; things look normal until the family you’ve been having dinner with decides you’re very tasty. This whole Danielle Smith campaign has been a little like that for me.

Smith is charismatic. She can sure talk and she looks pretty on the side of a bus (by the way, how on earth did that slip by her office?). Let’s face it, she talks better than Ralph Klein ever did and looks better than Stelmach. So much so she slipped this whole “conscience rights” things past me. I didn’t pay attention to it at all. I was so busy listening to the promises of payouts and improved health care that I missed this one. Like David Copperfield, Smith has an amazing ability to get her audience to watch what is happening in the right hand while her left is doing the pickpocketing.

Let’s look at this whole “conscience rights” thing for a moment. I first heard of it when Warren Kinsella of the Toronto Sun wrote about it in his article, “Smith Changes Her Tune and Is Completely Off-Key”. Wait a minute. I don’t usually watch the news and such, but come election time I do keep up with the politics. I love the Internet for giving me that ability. So how did a journalist in Toronto click into this and make noise about it before Alberta journalists did? To be fair, perhaps there was an article or two that I missed. Still, he’s in Toronto writing about Alberta politics and drawing attention to where it needs to be focused. You’re being ripped off, people and Kinsella is showing you.

Conscience rights, as I understand it, means that if an official does not agree with a particular issue and it conflicts with his job, he does not have to perform that function. So, let’s explain that. Let’s suppose there is a judge that does not agree with gay marriage. That judge does not have to perform the marriage. What? If there is a doctor who does not agree with abortion, he does not have to perform the abortion. Now, if you’re a judge who does not agree with gay marriage, you tend to stay away from marrying people. A doctor who does not agree with abortions would probably go into another field. No problem there. Right? Let’s take this one step further; let’s suppose you’re a prison official who does not agree with gay rights. Does that mean that official no longer has to care for them? Let’s say you’re an apartment manager who does not agree with the swinger lifestyle. Guess what? You don’t have to rent to “them” any more. Restaurant manager who doesn’t agree with First Nations’ rights? Don’t serve them. Welcome to the slippery slope, people.

Yes, some of the examples I’m showing are extreme, however, do you really believe there aren’t those who won’t go there? I’m a Wiccan and once lost a job because of it. No, that wasn’t the official reason, but was something that was said from my manager to me on my way out. She later denied saying it. Who is easier to believe? I have met racists, skinheads, gaybashers, and religious nuts; all of whom believe that “those” people should be grateful for what they got. I actually met a man who once said, “Rosa Parks should have stayed at the back of the bus. Then we wouldn’t have all these problems.” They’re out there and this policy gives them a blank cheque.

Okay. Those people do exist. What about the woman who really believes that shielding her children from swingers and Wiccans is best for her kids? I have to ask, what do these people think will happen if they meet a swinger couple? That the couple will start indoctrinating a five year old? “Yes, Billy. Your Mommy and Daddy are going to hell because they only sleep with each other.” Do these people believe that Wiccans will steal their 10 year old to perform a “Drawing Down of the Moon”? Do they think gays will infect their children? Come on. Let’s get real here. I’m all for raising kids right, but not when that means they get the idea that stomping all over the rights of those who are different is okay.

I did try to contact Danielle Smith’s office. I was a good girl and sent an email via their website. That’s a nice way of doing it. I can be polite when I try. That was a week ago. They never responded. So, when I called Smith’s office today the alarm bells really rang. I first called her campaign office and was told that the website email goes to her “other” office (they never really explained what the other office was). So, I called there and tried to get someone in the media office. No answer. I hate leaving messages. Besides, they’ve had a week to respond. So I got ahold of the receptionist who stated that the office “wasn’t sure where that email is routed to.” WHAT?? Let me get this right; you have an email for constituents (and nuts like me) to get ahold of you but you don’t know where it’s going? There’s a unique solution. Don’t want to have to answer questions? Create an email link and dump the email into the ether. Then you can honestly say, “nope. Didn’t get your email.” Does anyone else find that hilarious?

All I can do is write this blog, send a letter to the editor of local papers and cross my fingers. I won’t be voting for Smith, I can tell you that much and I urge others to do the same. Yes, the flash and dazzle is pretty, but all that gets annoying after a while. Then, when reality sets in, we’re left with “conscience rights”. I’m awake, but the night terror goes on and the monster is in my room.

A woman sits in a corner at a party. She’s a little shy so she’s sipping her drink and keeping to herself. A man walks over and asks if he can feel her breast. She says no. He cups her breast in his hand and gives a squeeze. He tells him to stop but he keeps going. She’s nervous. She knows she’s awkward socially. Maybe this is acceptable at this party. She tells him to stop again but he gets angry. He slaps her face and calls her a prude. Near tears she tells him to leave her alone and starts to walk away. He laughs and tells her he got what he wanted. He likes copping feels against unwilling women.

A woman is online. She begins chatting with a man who asks if he can go on cam for her. She says yes, but so long as he’s only showing his face. His cam turns on and it’s him stroking his penis. She’s not shocked, it’s just a penis. However, she tells him again that she doesn’t cam (perform sexual acts on camera) or sex chat. He says he wants her to go on cam so they can masturbate together. Again she tells him no. She wants to end the conversation, but she’s unsure. She’s not very savvy when it comes to Internet chat. Maybe this is normal. He tells her she’ll like it and he wants her to. She has finally had enough. She says no one last time and tells him she doesn’t cam. She’s about to end the conversation when he calls her a prude and says she’s a tease. Things get ugly because she gets angry. He then sends her a message saying he got what he wanted. He liked showing his penis to unsuspecting women.

These are two variations of the same story. A woman is violated. One physically, the other psychologically. No one would dare dream of telling the woman at the party that she was to blame for the man’s behaviour or that she got what she deserved because she didn’t move away fast enough. Yet, on FetLife, it seems that blaming the victim is normal.

The second scenario happened to me. I do date online and I know there are some weirdos out there. However, there are new fetishes turning up every day and I don’t like to step on anyone’s kink. I gave this jerk three chances to change his behaviour. I figured that was fair. However, when I sent a forum message polling the group “Edmonton Kink” on FetLife what they thought about this situation, almost unanimously I was blamed for the situation. I was told in many ways I was to blame for allowing it to go on and not simply ending the conversation. One user even stated, “if you stayed on formote(sic) than 1 second… I question your inlligence(sic) as much as his.” Another user stated, “You implicitly encourage bad behaviour by not ending it.” This theme went on in varying degrees of hostility. Apparently I’m to blame.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, if someone does something you don’t like in chat, do NOT be a nice guy and give them chances. If you are not an immediate asshole and cut them right off, you are to blame for being violated. After all, I did let the conversation go on. Another user made this speculation about my personality flaws;

” My theory is that you suffer from some low self esteme(sic), and believe that people will hurt you or that you may never find respect, and this energy then attracts just that… people who will hurt you and/or won’t show you respect. “

Wait a minute. Low self-esteem? This bit of psychological assessment came from a user who has read maybe four or five of my posts, never met me and is hardly qualified to make any psychological assessments of anyone. Anyone who makes a living writing can’t afford low self-esteem.

Meanwhile, what has been FetLife’s response? Surely they’re a responsible website who takes care to ensure that their users feel safe and comfortable voicing their opinions on their website. After all, this type of lifestyle demands a comfortable and safe environment, be it online or in reality. So they must be racing to correct the problem.

Don’t count on it. This is not the first time a problem like this has arisen. If the FetLife website is any indication, the Edmonton kink community is neither open nor welcoming to those who are new or in any way different from themselves. This is an irony, all things considered. You’d think such an ostracized community would be more understanding and patient with those who are new or curious. The truth is, on the FetLife website they are closed, conservative and non-welcoming at all. I have had several instances of being called names and told my opinion is wrong (I’m unsure how opinions can be wrong, but all right). I have complained to FetLife many, many times and they have yet to do anything about it.

So, this last time I have decided to close my profile there. I do not recommend the site to anyone who is curious or beginning in this lifestyle. I find the majority of users there to be mean and vicious while FetLife sits back and does nothing.

To set the record straight, I do not believe I was to blame for this violation in any way despite what the users of the Edmonton Kink group on FetLife may say.  No means no. It doesn’t mean maybe and it doesn’t mean keep trying.

To FetLife; damn well take a stand already. There is no reason any user should have to sit by and be blamed for being violated.

December 2017
M T W T F S S
« May    
 123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031
%d bloggers like this: