A Very Feminist and Animist Poem About Hiking

 How does hiking make me feel;

My thick thighs trembling

with

each

step

My calves rock hard, tense

   crashing against each other

Sweat starting, pricking my scalp

Down the back of my neck

My back

Glowing on my rounded shoulders, glinting on collarbones

Long hair like a veil sweeping it away

I like my own smell

My own odeur 

The primal scent

Mixing with the sunscreen that is sliding off, never enough

Until I am nut brown,

Freckled 

On my shoulders

My forearms bronze

Saying hello to every

Rock

Tree

Mushroom

Bird

Animal

Like they are old friends

     (they are,  my inner animist says)

You have known them before you were born and you will know them after you die and you will know them 

forever.

When I menstruate during a hike

I feel

Female with a capital F

Part of a cosmic womanhood

Embraced and swallowed by the 

Earth

Small

Insignificant

Strong

But

Easily crushed

Like the insects I swat away

Little drops of blood swelling, given to the Earth

I am She and She is Me and we are together intertwined in the woods

Accepting my Demons, One at a Time

 This is one of my favorite pictures of me, despite it being about 5 years old now and I have since grown my hair out and retired the piercings. Most of my selfies are taken from a strategic angle from above, but this one, I am actually looking down. And I think that's it. I think that's why I like it. But why? 

For a little back story, I took this in my first year of graduate school. I had actually done the makeup because I was doing a presentation in a class and (I think) going out with classmates after. At that time, I was newly single, and had started doing domme work for extra money. My specialty was humiliation and verbal abuse; I never touched a single submissive, it was all done via text, with the exception of a few sessions with a local guy that was into feet. I had always identified myself as being a "switch," someone who was okay being dominated or dominating, and I based this on my limited experience being dominated by a man, and being dominant to the point of being pretty sadistic with a woman that I neither liked or was attracted to. Being a domme taught me a lot about myself. A big thing I learned is that I do not like being dominated outside of a little light ropework and some spanking. I am too dominant and aggressive a person-- albeit introverted-- to submit to anyone, let alone a man. I like dominating men and treating them like shit. I've gotten a lot of compliments on my style and take pride in getting to know my submissive to make their session personal and extra painful. 

But this blog post isn't about me as a domme or sex work (but reminder that sex work is legitimate work) but about how I view men. It took years for me to examine my feelings, wrestling with it through the shambles of a long-distance relationship, and as I carefully constructed responses to decline advances from men when I really wanted to decline them in the most condescending, abusive way possible, I had an epiphany: I don't respect most men. It's a hard thing to admit. When men try to white-knight me, when they send unsolicited dick pics, when they position themselves as "nice guys," (spoiler alert, self-described nice guys aren't nice at all), when they apologize unnecessarily, all I can think of is grinding them under the proverbial heel of my cruelty, and I see, in my head, the picture of me that is above, looking down, cold, indifferent to the viewer, beautiful and untouchable. They are pathetic, and I have power over them. 

As you can imagine, this does not lend itself well to meeting people, especially when you're lonely. It is, however, something I am constantly mindful of when interacting with people. It's not all men, as I said, just most feel so pathetic and unworthy of any time or effort beyond charging them for it. I do make an effort to make meaningful connections, and I can typically tell within a very short time frame if someone falls into category A or category B. I know this is something that seems horrible, why would I admit this, let alone publicly? Because I am, and have always been, a firm believer in introspection, understanding oneself, understanding the why behind the feeling or thought, and either making a modification/learning from it, or accepting it as a facet of who I am. And here we are, the learning and acceptance phase. I once wrote in a long-defunct online journal that people can't hurt me with what I know and accept to be true, and I still believe that.

On Strong Female Friendships

I am a woman that has a hard time forming meaningful female friendships. Not to sound like one of those cringey "I don't get along with women, they're all drama," people, but my issue is having a hard time relating to other women. I'm a middle-aged woman that neither has not wants (or likes) children, I'm happy being alone, and like to talk about stuff that other people find uncomfortable (death and dying, anyone?). I have interests that women my age typically don't. I also have this toxic tendency to fall quickly and madly into (platonic) love with girls that sweep me off my feet with how fun and spontaneous they are. I usually find these girls and befriend them when I am manic, and when the high of the shopping trips, dinners, and platonic cuddling wears off, I realize that they are really bad, toxic people for me. The last such friend like this I had ended up selling prescription drugs and fucked up my taxes to the tune of $1200 that I had to pay back during a period of unemployment. 

Making and maintaining friendships as an adult woman is exhausting and sometimes very frustrating, when I feel like I'm the one always trying to make plans, make connections, so I'm grateful when I can find that rare unicorn of a friend that reaches out, checks in, accepts and appreciates me for who I am, and is content to sit in silence instead of filling the void with useless chatter. A rare friend, indeed, that I can have fun with, hang out with, and not feel exhausted by. I feel like I don't express my appreciation for those few friends enough, and today I realized, as I went on a "cemetery crawl" with my friend Kate, that she is one of those friends that I can always count on, and because we both have our issues, we can be flexible with each other if one is having a bad mental health or physical health day. We can have long meaningful conversations over coffee at Starbucks and have mutual interests we can explore together, but we can be silly and irreverent too without leaving our encounter feeling exhausted by the other. I am so grateful for our friendship, especially at times when I sorely needed distraction from the pain of everyday life. Thank you, Thing 1, for being a unicorn.

Thornback Woman

I am 40 years old.
My tits sag.
Losing weight gets harder each year.
I have grey hairs.
I am unmarried, and childfree.
I have gone beyond "spinster" to "thornback" and while this term used to be derogatory, I think reclaiming it and owning it gives me power.

I have always had a love/hate relationship with my body. I think most women do, since we are indoctrinated and brainwashed at an early age to live up to an ideal, that our bodies are dirty, that we must be thin/pretty/feminine/delicate perfect enough for society to deem us worthy, and even then, we aren't. I've been overweight probably since puberty. I had C-cup breasts at 14 and was fully in a D-cup by the time I was 18. Even now I wear a DD, but it's hard to tell what my actual size is due to recent weight loss. They sag, anyway, and this is one of the recent body image crises I've endured.

Why is loving an accepting your body seen as a sign of radical feminism? Shouldn't it just be... the norm? Shouldn't we just love our saggy bits, jiggly bits, and wrinkly greying bits alongside our smooth and firm bits, muscular bits, and sleek bits? When I hit 40 I thought I just wouldn't care any more, but I honestly do care-- I care that my partner finds me attractive, I care that the world finds me attractive, I care that my body can do things, I care about how my clothes look. It's infinitesimally harder to not care than to care. So what if caring wasn't so bad, and not caring shouldn't be the end goal? Like, my tits may sag but they're healthy, my hair may be greying but it's long and shiny, weight comes off slowly but I have curves and a soft belly that reminds me of ancient artworks. I'm 40 and unmarried but I still go out and do what I want to do.

People worry a lot about me hiking solo but as an animist, I never feel like I am alone. These hikes give me time to reconnect with my spirituality, and reconnect with myself. I often spend my hikes in awe of what my body can accomplish, reveling in the tired muscles that seem to bounce back after a rest to eat and drink to carry me onward. Today, I went on a hike and, for the first time in my entire 40 years of existence, peed outside. I was terribly worried I would get it all over myself, but you know, I didn't. I actually watched the stream of urine and marveled that our bodies are made to do this. We're so disconnected from some of the functions of our bodies by modern convenience-- toilets hide our waste process, sanitary products disconnect us from our menstrual cycle. These things are unclean and not to be marveled at. But, despite being voluntarily sterilized 5 years ago and generally being uncomfortable every 22 days, it is a beautiful, holy process that was once revered for the sacred event it was. I may grumble about my cramps and weight gain each month, but deep down, my menstrual blood makes me feel powerful.

It has been a struggle to love these things about me-- sagging breasts, menstruation, grey hairs-- but more and more as I get older, I do love them, even if the relationship with my body is still difficult, my body is strong and amazing. Women get more powerful as they get older. I am a thornback woman, and I can't wait until I can call myself a crone.

Black Lives Matter

This has been a very heavy week. With the murder of George Floyd, things have been overwhelming in the world, but it's not a new occurrence and I've written about the murder of an innocent black man at the hands of the police before, and since that post, I've grown more and thought more about racial injustice in this country. I fully support the protests that are happening everywhere because shit has got to change in this country. This country was built on the genocide of indigenous people, the back of Africans that were stolen from their homes, the railroads built by Asian immigrants that were treated no better than slaves. We have a dirty, bloody history of violence and subjugation of nonwhites that is shameful. I've also taken the time to learn more about performative allyship and really stopped to think about what it means to be actively anti-racist. As a white, middle-class woman, I have no place to tell the black community how to feel, protest, mourn, or express themselves. All I can do is shut up and listen and take direction. To educate myself (because it is not on black people, or even my black friends to do that for me). It is my job as to use my nonmarginalized, privileged status to help others. I've also stopped caring about white feelings and have been plucking people off my friends list that use coded, racist language ("thugs"), respond with "all lives matter/police lives matter," or actively praise that shitbag in the White House.

During #BlackoutTuesday, I found myself disappointed. I went to graduate school in part to fight for social justice, especially after my own struggles with poverty and healthcare inequity. To see so many of my former classmates post their black square and then... nothing was, to say the least, disappointing. I did not post a square, but instead I took the time to look at the different charity funds that were set up, to read about performative allyship, to donate, and also to listen to the experiences of black people on social media. I reported hate speech on social media, including anyone who used "alllivesmatter" as a response to the Black Lives Matter movement. I read pieces written by journalists who had been shot at and gassed by the police and subsequently arrested. I also watched clip after clip of unchecked police brutality on peaceful demonstrators. It made me sick, it made me angry, and it made me frustrated with people who constantly respond with "nOt aLL cOpS!" Yes all cops. Because for every cop that beats, murders, or rapes a black person, hispanic person, indigenous person, there are the members of the force that turned a blind eye, who were complicit by doing absolutely nothing to make change. No amount of pro-cop propaganda (look at these cops dancing with kids on the sidewalk! look at these cops kneeling with the protesters!) will make me think that the police force in America is anything but a deeply corrupt institution that needs to be defunded, deconstructed, and replaced with social services that help support communities, to be healthy, safe, with access to equal educational opportunities, access to healthy food, mental health and substance use services, and healthcare, especially predominantly poor communities.

As an ally, it's my place to actively call out racism. It's my place to support and amplify black voices. It's my place to vote out corruption. It's my place to use my privilege as a means to help those that don't have it. I don't say all of this for asspats. I say all of this because as white people, we have never had to fear simply walking down the street, jogging, sleeping in our beds, going to the store, just because of our skin color. Our mothers didn't have to teach us from an early age how to act around police to avoid being assaulted or killed. It breaks my heart when my niece tells me that her best friend says "thank god my son is so light skinned" because fuck that shouldn't even be a concern for a mother with a school-aged child.

Remember, white people, this is not about you, or your feelings. If you go to the protests, remember, you're there to support, so shut up and listen and do as you're told. Have real and frank conversations with your families. Don't brag about donating (I hated to even mention it because I don't like talking about charitable gifts because I don't do it for praise), but don't be silent when it matters the most: when confronting systemic racism in the world around you and when it comes time to vote. Confront your own privilege and make yourself uncomfortable. 

If you are in the position to and want to donate money, here is a huge list to choose from. If you want to step outside of performative allyship and be better, here is an article that can steer you in the right direction. And another list of resources. Don't know how to talk to your kids about what's happening? Here's a resource that may help.

Gaming while Female

I love video games. I've written about it before. I've been playing World of Warcraft off and on for about 10 years, among other games. When I'm not running around solo,  I typically play with a small group of people from my guild; we all know each other, and many of us have met. Sometimes, however, we will have to invite a stranger to our group, this is fine. What I've noticed, however, is that almost every time-- and also when strangers interact with me in game-- I am misgendered. The kicker was when a guildee who knows better  misgendered me in guild chat. I have wracked my brain to understand this. Even when I played a typically "female" class-- my mage or priest-- I get called "dude" (which I see as kind of gender-neutral, honestly), "bro," or "man."  But I primarily play a melee class these days. To the right is my demon hunter. Yes, I play a female character, but a lot of guys play female characters too. Armor sets tend to look... better on them. But why is it I am constantly being misgendered? Let's unpack this, list style!

A) The pervasively inaccurate myth that women don't play video games. In fact, women in my age bracket are a main demographic

1. Also, toxic masculinity 
2. The myth that female gamers are casual, when there are female players soloing end bosses of raids

B) My play style

1. I play a melee class now, although I used to play ranged DPS. But women are expected to be ranged DPS or healers
2. I am competitive. I don't like to lose
3. I am an aggressive player. I like to be big-dick DPS in dungeons and raids and I go balls-deep into player vs. player
1. The fact that I even PVP is often seen as more masculine, however one of the best PVPer's I used to run with was female, back in the day
2. The fact that I rarely bother with a dungeon any more unless it's a keystone mythic and I want to do higher and higher ones

C) My goddamn mouth

D) The fact that I also tank, which is seen as masculine, although there are excellent female tanks

E) The fact that some of my female characters are nearly naked

I've stopped correcting people any more. It's not worth the time, especially if it's some random person I'll never encounter in game again. The exception was the guildee, and she had rubbed me the wrong way prior to that. What do you think, gentle reader? Have you experienced misgendering in a video game, whether male or female? Do you stay out of voice chats so that you avoid people knowing your gender?

The Matriarchs of Public Health

I started thinking about entering the world of public health all the way back in 2009 when my amazing cousin Stephanie planted the seed in my head as I spiraled further and further into job dissatisfaction. Granted, I didn't act on that until 2015, and this past May, I graduated (I'm not technically finished, so I don't feel comfortable putting the credentials after my name yet since I'm not officially an MPH). In my 2 years of graduate school, I found myself inspired by our program director (who just retired from the position this month) who had, in her long career, done it all, but mostly in the realm of end of life care. But, because she had done it all, I learned some valuable skills from her, as much as they make me groan (work plans and budgets are not fun things to draft). She has stories and experience and has seen the field I'm interested in-- technology in healthcare-- literally evolve from paper charts to the sophisticated electronic medical records and health-related devices and mobile apps that we have now. She has written programming for early systems.

At my current job, I work with an amazing group of (mostly) women, and our department head is another seen-it-all-done-it-all bastion of public health. She has been doing what she does since I've been alive (seriously-- she's been in her position since 1980 and will be retiring to a per diem status in October). I started my job 3 weeks ago and probably since before I started she has been working on writing grants for future projects. Grant writing is a huge undertaking and as she explained her process to us, she said, without a shred of vaingloriousness, that she is granted nearly every grant she applies for (which is good news for my department and my job security). She knows everyone in the state, she has experiences and stories to share. She has shaped public health, disease prevention, and the spread of evidence-based health education in central Maine.

These two women remind me so much of each other, because they share so many of the same attributes: their calm demeanor, their shrewd, innovative thinking, and their soothing voices. These women that I look up to are the matriarchs of public health. When I think of leaders in public health, I don't think of men leading the way (although there have been amazing male contributors to the public health world and I've had the pleasure to learn from some very gifted scholars) I think of these wizened, caring women who have paved the way, who fight for the health and wellness of everyone in their communities, who put their nose to the grindstone to apply for grants to ensure that resources can be generated, studies performed, and health services delivered.

I'm 37, and I can't even imagine getting to that point, to that level of achievement. I admire these women so much and it saddens me that I am only now encountering them in the twilight of their careers as they prepare to retire and pass the torch to another generation. These are women who have been in public health for decades, have witnessed social change, policy change, changes in attitude toward health and healthcare delivery. These matriarchs of public health have been the backbone for people like me, entering the industry. They're grassroots people, people I can relate to, when so many of the women in my program I couldn't relate to at all. They have built the foundations of what I do, and I will forever admire and be grateful for them paving the way.

Bi Erasure, Biphobia, and Treating People Like a Fetish

Pride month is wrapping up, and I've had a few thoughts that have been stewing at a rolling boil just below the surface, and it started with The Babadook. I am not "babashook" about people elevating a horror movie character (from a fairly good movie, mind you) to the New Gay Icon(tm) and proclaiming that the B in LGBTQIA+ stood for Babadook. I am not here for that at all. And neither are other bisexuals.

Other? Yeah, about that. I'm bisexual.

Apologies to my family who find out via my blog. I never felt a "coming out" was important or necessary, because all of my relationships have been with men and let's face it, we all know I'm too huge of a catty bitch to have a functional relationship with a woman. It's not a big deal. I don't even particularly care about labels, but if you want to put one on it, there you go.

Back to the Babadook and why it's a big deal. Bi erasure is a huge problem not only in mainstream media but within the LGBTQIA+ community. Bisexuals are faced with stigma, exclusion, and treated like they're too gay to be in straight spaces but too straight to be in gay spaces. At the best, bisexual people are ignored. At the worst, they're either treated like a fetish for straight-identifying people or instantly categorized as inherently unfaithful and untrustworthy partners.

Let me tell you why the way bisexuals are treated is bullshit:

1. A bisexual person is perfectly capable of being in a committed, loving relationship with someone without being "tempted" to cheat, without feeling like they're "missing out" on the other sex. I am a ridiculously faithful person, even with a partner 1,200 miles away that I haven't seen in a year. Don't tell me I'm a cheater because I'm bi!

2. If someone tells you they're bisexual, your instant response shouldn't be "wanna have a threesome?" Please. That gets old really quick, and I can tell you, threesomes are kind of overrated, awkward, and boring. I'm not here to be your unrequited fetish fantasy.

3. It's not that I can't choose. I am attracted to both. It's how I am. Penises are awesome. Vulvas are awesome. It's not a phase. If it is, it's a 20 year one.

4. Bi people aren't bi for attention. If I was bi for attention, I would have... come out?

I'm sure so many others have written about the topic of bi erasure and biphobia much, much more eloquently than I have. But the whole point of this blog was to work through my feeling and thoughts as I wandered through my day-to-day life. So to sum up: I'm bi. No I don't cheat. I'm not attracted to you, don't worry. No I don't want a threesome. Yes I belong in queer spaces. No it's not a phase/for attention/because I can't choose. Yes I am valid. Yes I am visible. Yes I belong.

Oh and P.S., stop being shitty to asexual, intersex, gender noncomforming, nonbinary, trans, and other erased members of the community. They're just as valid.

A Letter to my Youngest Niece on the Second Day of Trump's Presidency

Dear Rachel,

You probably won't see this unless someone directly links it to you, since you don't use Facebook, but this is something that's been composing itself in the back of my mind now for years. Composing itself, ever since that Easter a couple years ago when you, barely 15, started expressing an interest in politics and a desire to see a woman in the highest elected office in this country. That Easter, when I saw you visibly withdraw your passion when your grandfather (not my Dad, mind you) stated "the worst thing we ever did was give women the vote." With that utterance I felt rage well up inside of me, and I am truly sorry I didn't speak up, but instead buried myself in the glass of wine in my hand and worked on getting drunk.

With that single utterance, he reduced your thoughts, ideals, and hopes into an insignificance he ground under the heel of patriarchy, and I should have spoken up. I was so happy to see your burgeoning feminism at the table, and so incredibly sad to see someone in your life who is supposed to love and support you quash it. I'm sorry I didn't let my anger manifest into words. On this day where so many women around the world are voicing their anger and fear by demonstrating political dissent, reminding the patriarchy that our voices will be heard, I offer my humblest and sincerest apology. I have been dwelling on that day for years, and you have no idea how much that one harmful phrase has stuck with me. I will no longer remain silent. I may not be marching for us today, but I will no longer remain silent in the face of a regime that wants to subjugate women and commodify them.

You are an incredibly intelligent, articulate, generous, gentle, and kind person, Rachel, and don't let this cruel world strip that from you and turn you cynical. Seize hold of that burgeoning feminism I saw manifest years ago, and speak up for yourself, your friends, your loved ones. Get involved, be active. Get to know victims, marginalized people, vulnerable people. Use your incredible capacity for caring and compassion to make change in this world. Whatever career you embrace, use it as a platform for good, but please, I implore you, never lose your values, your ideals, your autonomy. Stand up for what is right and never allow someone to drown out your voice.

I'm sorry I didn't stand up for you then, but I will and am now. I have your back, and the backs of all women whose voices have been drowned out.

You are not property.

You are not a commodity.

You have agency.

You are strong, whether you realize it yet or not.

I'm proud to call you my niece.

Thanks, Obama

I posted briefly on Facebook this morning, as the Inauguration proceedings were underway in Washington D.C., that I would not be participating in the Women's March locally, not because I don't support the cause (I wholeheartedly do. Dissent is political. Dissent makes change) but because I know, as a person living with bipolar disorder, that the sheer crowd would trigger a negative reaction in me. I am, however, incredibly proud of the friends and family that will be marching tomorrow, locally and in the nation's capital. It is incredibly important that we use our voices, that we stand up for ourselves, loved ones, marginalized populations, at-risk populations, humanity.

I will admit, watching footage of Barack and Michelle Obama waving farewell and stepping onto Marine One made me tear up a bit. There went one of the biggest champions of human rights, women's rights, gay and transgender rights, health, and public health. So, without a shred of irony I say, "thanks, Obama."

Thank you for the Affordable Care Act. Is it a perfect piece of legislature? No. Is it huge and incredibly complex and in need of reform? Yes. As we face a vague plan of "repeal and replace," I worry that the good work Obama has done will be undone by the incoming administration. Many people focus on the high premiums on the plans offered in the Marketplace, and the struggles to navigate the website. Consider, however, that the ACA removed the ability for insurance companies to deny you coverage based on preexisting conditions. Looking at things through the lens of public health, the ACA has been monumental in healthcare reform. The ACA introduced value-based purchasing and improved quality measures that have improved healthcare delivery and health outcomes. While the HITECH Act was implemented prior to the ACA, it has flourished and expanded within the last several years, opening up health exchanges that collect, examine, and report on population health data. Thanks, Obama, for trying to resolve healthcare disparities and gaps in coverage.

I won't lie. As someone in her last semester in a Master of Public Health program facing an administration that has already demonstrated it doesn't care about the health and welfare of Americans, I'm scared. I'm scared but this degree puts me in a position to advocate for the health needs and rights of all people.

This post isn't nearly as coherent and cohesive as I would like it to be. I am sure, in the near future, there will be plenty to write about.

Stop Telling Me to Give Him A Chance

In the wake of the horrible news that Donald Trump will, indeed, be the next President, I've swam through a sea of ignorance, white male privilege, and pure hostility on Facebook. I spent a good portion of yesterday unfriending and unfollowing people that support and spread the rhetoric of hate and intolerance while I tried to reconcile my own feelings, only to sit on my couch crying and feeling nauseous. This election season has been so stressful, and I get it, people are tired of hearing about it, tired of campaigns, tired of media oversaturation. And that's okay. I'm tired too. I'm emotionally exhausted, but my brain is already trying to think two steps ahead to plan how I'm going to help people most affected by this national tragedy. And as I try to think, as I read about the fears people have, I keep seeing the same things written by people over and over, people who don't get it, or people who lack empathy and compassion for others to see exactly why we're scared.

"Give him a chance"
"It'll be okay"
"He has no real power"
"Get over it"
"Stop whining"

On an on the apologist litany goes. I will be totally up front that I do have a level of privilege being a middle-class, educated, white woman in a largely rural state. I've never been sexually assaulted and despite dancing with poverty and mental illness, I've had a relatively comfortable life. But reading these sentiments over and over makes me sick. Why? Because these are the things rape apologists say about the victims of sexual and domestic assault when they try to use their voice and stand up for themselves and expose someone for the predator they are. And that's not okay.

I am scared. I am scared for my fellow women, queer folk, trans friends, friends of color, friends in a non-Judeo-Christian religion. I am scared of the culture of hatred, racism, and misogyny that has already sprouted as people are reporting harassment, threats, and assaults, all in less than 24 hours of the election results. For the first time in my 36 years, I am genuinely afraid of sexual assault. This is a Trump presidency. It's already happening. So no, I will not "take the high road," I will not "give him a chance." And it certainly will not be okay. This will be an unbearably long 4 years. Let's support each other.

Ways to help:
Donate to help transpeople get their names and genders legally changed here
Jezebel has a great (and expanding list) of organizations that support women, transfolk, people of color, immigrants and refugees, and people with disabilities that you can help by donating or volunteering here
Support the ACLU

Being Hormonal Doesn't Give You Carte Blanche to be a Bitch

This is a rant I've been saving up for a long, long time. This isn't directed at anyone, but if you want to take it personally, go ahead and blame it on your scapegoat, hormones.

I don't know how many times I've heard pregnant women blame their pregnancy hormones on being absolutely awful to people around them. The same women, who if they acted the same way when not pregnant would be labeled a "bitch" and "obviously on her period." The hormones are the same, whether you're pregnant or PMSing, so let's have a seat and talk, shall we?

Ladies, being hormonal--whether you're pregnant or not-- is no excuse to be an absolute, terrible bitch to everyone around you. Check your goddamn selves because you're feeding the misogynistic stereotype that women are ruled by their hormones, uncontrollable monsters on their periods, precious sweet creatures morphed into evil demons by that mean baby in their tummy. Ugh. Stop. And if you're so newly pregnant that your pregnancy test just barely registers that you are pregnant, you have no excuse except that you want to be a horrible abusive bitch and get away with it. Yes, hormones can make you grumpy, yes, they can give you mood swings. But take some goddamn accountability for your actions. You're not a base animal, you have agency, and control over your actions and the words you say. And this isn't just aimed at pregnant women; if you're PMSing and you feel mean, maybe stay away from people? Use breathing exercises, or what I do: loud angry music in the car/working out. But please, for the love of dog, stop using it as an excuse to be horrible!

What Turning 36 Has Taught Me

Taken a week before my birthday

March 22nd marked my 36th year on this earth. I have learned a lot in my 30's. One of the things I've learned and embraced is that age is merely a chronological measure of your existence and is by no means a definition of who you are as a person. Leaving your twenties isn't a death sentence. Getting closer to 40 isn't either. There's so much rigidity in society with how we should be at a certain age, and I fell prey to that myself when I had my quarter life crisis at 25 because I wasn't married (actually, I had that crisis first at 24, because my sister had gotten married at that age and I felt I should be by that time, too). I felt some panic last year as I turned 35 because I was in a long term relationship with no sign of marriage in sight. Today I turned 36. I'm single, and I'm okay.

I've seen so many articles online that say "Things you should definitely stop doing/wearing once you hit your 30's" and I just wonder who made these arbitrary rules? A lot of them have to do with how a woman looks and that's just utter bullshit. Ladies, regardless of your age, be you. Do what you like, wear what you love, and if you want glitter and loud makeup, fucking go for it, girl. Why, all of a sudden, when we enter our 30's are we expected to shrivel up into dull beige beings with matching pantsuits? I rock business-casual Goth on the regular.

I honestly don't understand the phrase "act your age" either. What does  that even mean? If I acted my age I'd... have kids? No thanks. A former friend of mine told me on the eve of my (I think) 32nd birthday when my ex and I were trying to plan a trip to New York City with the express intention of clubbing (because I love techno and had never experienced a club before) that I shouldn't be concerned with going out and clubbing at my age. What? So wither on the couch and watch reality TV like you? No. Thanks.

One valuable thing I learned from my mother is "you're never too old." While there are times I feel like the oldest person in my degree program (I'm not) I'm at the right place in my life to go back to school. I started thinking about graduate school in 2009 (I couldn't believe it had been so long, I honestly thought 2012) but never made the leap. I wasn't ready, mentally or emotionally. I had work to do, and lessons to learn. Entering graduate school at 35 with a goal to graduate at 37 is right for me now. I certainly wasn't ready in 2003 when I got my Bachelor's when I didn't even know what I wanted to do with my life since I realized I didn't want to be a teacher 4 years into my degree. Now I know that in my heart of hearts, I am an educator, but not teacher material. My opportunities are limitless and opening up in front of me. I am in the right place, at the right time, for me.

So if we take anything away, remember that it's okay to be in your 30's and single. Wear the thing, have the fun, and live life. You're never too old to go after a dream.

Knowing You've Made the Right Decision

Yesterday was a very bad bipolar day, and I almost didn't go to class because I wasn't in a good headspace to deal with people. I did end up going, however, and I'm glad I did. Have you ever had one of those moments that just affirms a decision you've made as the right one? Yesterday was my Social and Behavioral Health class, and we had a guest speaker that spoke to us about ACES (Adverse Childhood Experiences). As a means of introducing her work, she gave us some pretty stunning statistics on food insecurity in Maine (as well as some other stats that were equally depressing). I wanted to cry. In fact, on the way home, I did cry a little. Hearing the statistics reaffirmed my decision to get my Master's in Public Health and stay in Maine after I get my degree to help people. I even rambled on at a friend last night about it. I love my home state. I love the people in it. As much as I present myself as pretty misanthropic, I care. I empathize. I want my wonderful state to thrive and be healthy. I want the people in the rural areas to have the same access to care as everyone else. I want to use my shared experiences to help others, like I've used this blog. Now I just need to find my place after graduation.

Valentine's Day is a Load of Bullshit

I don't think I've ever ranted about Valentine's Day before, but I'm kind of glad I waited until now, because my thoughts are a bit more cohesive about why I intensely dislike this "holiday." And because I like lists, let's do this in list form!

1. If you love someone, show them every day, not just on one arbitrary day a year. Let's start off with one of my biggest gripes about Valentine's Day in general, and that's the fact that it seems like a "catch up" day, the day you really have to prove to your significant other that you really, really love them, and here's a stuffed bear and chocolate to cement that proof! I'm sorry, no. If you really truly love someone, you should treat them like  gold every goddamn day, not some arbitrary saint's day in February (surprise, it's another Pagan holiday turned Christian feast). You should want to spoil them with affection all the time. Getting your partner little "I love you" gifts shouldn't be reserved for one day a year. If they matter, show them every day that they do.

2. It's sexist as fuck. Yes, it's sexist. Let's think of the marketing. Everything about marketing Valentine's Day is about getting her gifts. It plays into the stereotype that women are shallow, greedy princesses and if you don't get her just the right gift, everything is ruined. Where are the advertisements aimed at gifts for men? Where are the gifts for men in that aisle that is a sea of pink and red and teddy bears?

3. It's terribly heteronormative and exclusionary. What about homosexual couples, transgender couples, and nonbinary individuals? Why don't I see people of color in advertising? Valentine's Day marketing tells me that it's a holiday for middle class, heterosexual, white people. And don't even get me started on how shitty it makes single people feel to see all this emphasis on love and being part of a couple and having it shoved down your throat at every turn. I'll even admit, it gets to me a little, and I'm happy being single.

4. Speaking of marketing... it's just a holiday for sales boosting anyway. I mean, think about it. It's February. Between Christmas/New Year and Easter (and I understand this is theocentric as far as Christian holidays) there really isn't a major holiday. Something needs to stimulate economy. In the winter, flower shops don't do as much business, retail locations are down. Why not market giving flowers and chocolate as a solution? It's big business. It's an $18.6 billion holiday.

These are my big 4. I'm sure there's more reasons floating around in my noggin about why I think Valentine's Day is bullshit. But for now, that's it. Monday, I'm going to enjoy the marked down chocolate from this commercial day.

Also: Valentine's Day engagements are tacky. So are weddings on Valentine's Day. Sorry. Be original.

Get the Fucking Tattoo

I hear "I'll [insert activity] once I lose weight" a lot, and I'm guilty of it myself. I told myself, through my 20's "Once I lose weight I'll start getting tattoos." I hit 30, hadn't lost weight, and realized "why am I waiting?" I'm lazy. I hate exercise, love decadent foods. I manage to maintain my weight but I don't lose it, and I'm honestly not trying too hard. If I had stuck to my "I'll get tattoos when I lose weight" idea, I would never have gotten tattoos. At 30 (almost 31, looking back at the picture on Facebook), I got my first tattoo, pictured on the right. Look at my fatness. That's my body, and I own it. And I have adorned it. Now, I do have a much more flattering picture taken with my stomach sucked in, at a more flattering angle that makes me look much thinner, but my point is, I'm lumpy, curvy, chubby, and if I'd waited for all that to disappear, I wouldn't be as happy in my skin because honestly, I've wanted tattoos ever since I was a kid, and I know that that's how I want my body to look. I don't care about being skinny. I don't particularly give a fuck about what others think of my fatness either. Tattoos aren't just for skinny people. Fat people aren't regulated to arm tattoos where it's less offensive to be fat. One of the tattoos I'm going to plan out with my tattoo artist is a sternum tattoo which, if  you search on google, appears to be a skinny person tattoo. There are only a few images of chubby girls with sternum tattoos. But you know what? Fuck it. I want it, I'll get it, and I'll rock it.

During healing, same person, better angle

Stop waiting. Stop delaying. If you keep telling yourself you're going to delay what makes you happy until you lose weight, you'll never be happy. A friend of mine mentioned wanting to cosplay a favorite character and told me "if I could lose weight, I'd totally do it." My response was "just fucking do it, dude." If you want to lose weight, and you do it, and work toward it, awesome. But if you struggle or just aren't motivated, why deny yourself? Be happy. As the kids say, you only live once. So if you're fat, stop letting society tell you you can only have certain clothes, accessories, engage in certain activities. And for fuck's sake, stop thinking you're unattractive to others because god knows, I get more ass than some of my skinny friends.

You're allowed to feel beautiful, sexy, confident, regardless of size. If you want to express yourself in a certain way, just do it. It's okay to love yourself, regardless of size, and it's also okay to want to change if you want to. It's okay to be happy, I promise.

Let's Stop Policing Each Other, Okay?

Lately, I've gotten back into doing makeup, so I turn to the Internet for inspiration. I already live on the Internet, so I can see what a horrible place it is. People, especially when it comes to makeup, are so hell bent on cutting others down instead of building them up. It runs the gauntlet from "you would look better with less," "I don't need all that crap on my face" "girls who wear makeup are insecure" "this is why I have trust issues" (followed by "take her swimming on the first date!"). There's more, so much more. Beauty blogger and makeup artist Samantha Ravndahl  quite succinctly talks about makeup shaming in an older video on her secondary channel.

What does it matter if a girl wants to draw on her eyebrows? I, personally, am not a fan of the heavy, fade-in-front Instagram brow, but you know what? What other people do with their makeup doesn't affect my life. And news flash, neither does how someone does their hair or the clothes they wear. Makeup is a means for personal expression, and if someone wants to contour the hell out of their face, or overline their lips, or draw on eyebrows, or wear minimal makeup, it's their choice. No one else's. Want to get lip injections? Awesome. I personally love Kylie Jenner's lips. Boob job? Rock on, because I'm not brave enough to get one myself. There are these outmoded "rules" to makeup that are more about controlling a woman's appearance than actual "beauty." Rules designed, in part, to design women that are appealing to men. Those rules need to be thrown out.

However, before we can throw out those rules, women need to stop cutting each other down. Don't like someone's makeup? That's okay. What's not  okay is to tell her she's ugly, insecure, a slut, a clown, etc., etc.. Instead, we should be building each other up. It takes so much more effort to comment negatively on a picture on Instagram, a video on Youtube than it is to just scroll by. Why are you so concerned with how another person looks? It's like the women who try to tell other women that leggings aren't pants. If you want to wear leggings, go right ahead. I'm not going to argue with camel toe. And bigger girls can wear them too. Let's stop policing each other's bodies and appearances, okay?

I see it all the time on Facebook. The fat-shaming memes are the worst, especially when paired with the exploitative and violating "people of Walmart" posts. Why the fuck are you making fun of the appearance of some stranger and posting it on the Internet? What if that was you? So what if you think their outfit is ridiculous, does it affect your life at all? No, it doesn't. That's a person you're publicly shaming, a person with feelings. It's disgusting and it needs to stop.

Open Letter to a Scumbag

Dear Scumbag,

You recently posted on your Facebook (yes, I can still see everything you do, motherfucker, and no I won't tell you how) that your grandmother would have a lot to say to you right now if she was alive. Let's talk about that, because I'm sure as hell she didn't raise  you to be unfaithful or to be such a liar. If I accuse you of cheating to your face, you will lie, you will backpedal, just like you did years ago when all I wanted was a casual fuckbuddy and you swore it was over with your girlfriend. But it wasn't, and I realize this is a pattern with you. You weren't done with her when you were asking me to send you nudes, and you weren't done with her when we started fucking. And you swore, during our 5 year relationship that you weren't the type to cheat on a woman. You swore you'd work on our problems and not cheat on me. The fact that so many of our fights were about my lack of interest in sex and that you would repeatedly say "I haven't cheated on you yet because I love you" should have been a red flag. But I was blinded by love. I took the blame for my lack of libido and clung to hope. But you know what? Fuck you and the fucking boring sex we had for five years. Fuck you and your excuses when I'd tell you the sex was boring. "I'm too tall for that position to work" "we just don't fit that way" (maybe because you were too fucking fat and unwilling to change, maybe your dick is too small). And when I got suspicious of that coworker you started talking a lot about? Fuck you. I had a right to be suspicious, and I was right. A month after you dumped me, I found out about her. And I did the math. And I tell you what, an emotional affair is still an affair, even if you're not getting your dick wet. But most off, how dare you lie to my face on the day I sit crying on your couch as you dump me and I straight up ask "is there someone else?" How dare you lie to me and say "no, I just need to be alone for a while." I can take the cheating. But how dare you insult my intelligence by lying to me. Did you think I wouldn't find out? I'm more Internet-savvy than you. You knew this. Did you want to get caught? There was a short time I thought we could remain friends, but not any more. You fucking disgust me. I realize after 5 years I wasn't anything to you. You didn't dedicate Facebook albums to me. You made excuses every time I talked about moving in together or marriage. You didn't care. You're the most disingenuous, disgusting scumbag for wasting my time for so long. You knew my stance on children 5 years ago when we met, went with me when I got my tubes tied, so suddenly you're a family man? Fuck you. Fuck you and your cheating, lying, fake self. You've freed me by breaking up with me. You've freed me to go back to the person I was, who I always was in my heart, and I've gone back to living my life for me. Oh, and I've had more amazing sex since you dumped me than we probably had in the last year. So thank you for that. Thank you for showing me I should never have trusted, should never have committed to a relationship, just like my instinct told me. You took a bird and caged her. Now I'm free. I'm on the prowl for men better than you, even if for a casual fuck. Because there's an honesty in being a slut that you don't get. You didn't play the game right and I hope she cheats on you like you did to me and the one before me. I hope you feel pain and betrayal. I hope you're lied to and your trust shattered, like mine was. I hope you hurt. Have fun with your downgrade, asshole.

Cordially,

Your Again-Slutty Ex

Sometimes I Get Defensive of my Brain

10 Internet points if you know what this is from!

This post is brought to you today by Melissa being a huge defensive bitch to someone who is, essentially, a stranger. The conversation started innocently enough, but then when the person said "you're missing the point" I went immediately on the defensive and replied "no, I get it. I'm not daft." And then I stewed on it and apologized for getting defensive. And I stewed some more and and felt awful for being such a bitch to someone who didn't deserve it, then I tweeted about it, and stewed in the car some more, thought about it in class, remunerated on it all the way home and now we're here. Why the hell did I get so defensive, especially at someone who doesn't know me and I don't know them?

I guess I've always felt the need to defend my intelligence. I've always felt written off for being female, for being pretty, for being sexual, for being from a more rural area (but it's not quite that rural) and so, my intelligence has always been a sense of pride for me. So much so that when my high school anatomy teacher jokingly insinuated the our class was the lower-level, lower-intelligence class, I got so angry I threatened him. It feels arrogant to say to someone, "look, I'm smart" but Jesus, sometimes I feel like I have to. I am smart. Nothing rankles more than when someone talks down to me, and then usually I get nasty and put them in their place.

Women can be pretty and smart. Women can be sexual and foul-mouthed and be smart. I have a degree. I'm working on a Master's. These are things you can't accomplish with looks, but with brains. Don't discredit someone based on their looks. Don't write off the quiet, shy person either. Don't assume someone is less intelligent because of how they dress. Just, don't be an asshole and treat people like they're stupid? Just a thought.

And for the person I got defensive with this morning: if you're reading this, I truly do apologize. You didn't deserve my bitchiness.

You Don't Have to be Sexual to get the Attention of People That Matter to You

The Internet is a huge place full of people and information. I love the Internet. I love social media and the global community it creates, but I'm going to get real fucking serious here, and pretty damn honest. Yes, I flirt with guys online, and sometimes it leads to an exchange of pictures. I'm a consenting adult, in full control of my own sexuality. It's harmless fun, "spank material" if you will, with other consenting adults. Imagine my surprise tonight when I got a private message from someone I have a hell of a lot of respect for (we'll call him "L" for privacy reasons, since he is a public figure) telling me that one of my spank material guys often inappropriately messages minors. I was horrified (even if my initial response seemed flippant) and grossed out. I stewed on it for hours. I messaged L back asking "how the hell do we help young girls protect themselves?"

I completely understand what it's like to be an insecure teen, having a mad crush on a gorgeous, unattainable guy (or girl, whatever). Suddenly, after weeks or months of yearning, that person looks at you, or, in the world of the Internet, likes your Instagram photo, likes your Tweet. Inside, your heart flutters, and you think "they finally noticed me!" It's elating. Even as an adult I get that way sometimes, everyone gets a little star-struck. But when you're a teenager, it can be problematic when your obsession is a legal adult and you are not.

So where does it go from there? Adults on the Internet have a certain responsibility to interact with people appropriately. When someone is clearly under age (especially if their profile says their age) it is incredibly inappropriate to leave comments of a sexual nature. Bottom line. I don't care how much older a person looks than their age, they're still a kid and unable to provide consent. I liked L's response to how he handles responding to his fans online:

"You'll notice I only ever respond to people on IG [ed: that's Instagram] with a none (sic) romantic reply. I never leave hearts or sex stuff.. ever. I want the fans that interact with me to know that you don't have to be sexual to get the attention of people that matter to you."

 Emphasis on that last line is mine. It may seem hypocritical, coming from someone outwardly sexual like myself, but that statement is so, so important. I get the lack of confidence, I get the elation at being noticed, I get it, but by putting yourself out there sexually, as a minor, you're not only attracting negative attention, but the wrong people. Because there are, sadly, people out there that will exploit the vulnerabilities of insecure teens and that leads to a downward spiral of potential sexual abuse. No. It is sexual abuse. Teens can't consent, and if you exploit them when they're vulnerable, knowing that you're attractive enough to get what you want from an emotionally fragile, naive teenager, you're a sexual predator of the worst kind, and I don't have any more time for you.

So what the hell do we do? Well, let's get rid of this bullshit patriarchal idea that girls are only worth how their bodies appear, and that they must always present themselves as desirable to get attention. I was that ugly, fat girl, and as an adult, well, I look pretty on Instagram but I'm pounding away at my keyboard right now with a horrible pimply mess on my face and hair that's gone too many days without washing. Men still find me desirable, even when they see me gross as fuck. It's because I'm intelligent, confident, and assertive. Confidence and assertiveness I had to learn, they didn't come over night. I figured this out on my own, but that was really pre-Internet and social media, so it  was a different time.

The question is, how do we help girls now find their confidence, to attract the right people into their lives? A lot of it is education and parental involvement. We hear sensationalist news reports about online predators, but are we having actual two-way dialogues with kids about how they present themselves online? Actual, true conversations that don't involve shaming? A true predator can easily identify and exploit a vulnerability. There are a lot of resources online, and a few links I found interesting to start with:

How To Have "The Talk" With Your Kids (About Internet Safety, That Is)
Raising Confident Daughters in a Changing World
Talking to Kids and Teens about Social Media and Sexting
A Girl's Nude Photo, and Altered Lives

I don't pretend to have answers on this. It's a tricky, complicated subject that needs to be approached with sensitivity, and honestly, the best way is to start a dialogue with each other and also step back and look at our own interactions online. I welcome any conversation or additional resources.