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Archive for March, 2013|Monthly archive page

If you’re happy and you know it, use your hands

In Uncategorized on March 23, 2013 at 3:00 am

I am all for promoting masturbation.

It’s not going to make you blind or grow hairy palms.

It’s not a sin, and in fact, it works as amazing birth control. The more your teenager masturbates, the less of a chance you will be a grandparent prematurely.

Masturbation also teaches us what we like. Women are socialized to simply do what the man asks. I see magazine articles with titles like, “How to make him turned on,” or “Make him want you more…”

Where’s the articles like, “Learn how to do oral on a chick?” or “How to make her not fake it,” or “How to get her to not say, “Honey, I’ve got a headache.”

Masturbation lets you know what you like, and therefore, you can share that with your partner and quit wasting time just getting through the act and waiting for it to be over.

It’s very important, in my opinion, that we teach girls to take control of their bodies. This means talking about masturbation. Abstaining. What happens if they decide to move forward with sex.

This ISN’T about teaching girls to be sex objects, or dress like hookers. This is teaching girls to be sexually aware, and not be ashamed of themselves.

Grown women seem embarrassed about their own sexuality. Not many people I know will offer up that they masturbate. That’s why we have the discreet passion party, or chick novels that delve into sex like, Fifty Shades of Grey. It’s a more private avenue to getting in touch with one’s sexuality.

I’ve never read the Fifty Shades series, nor am I embarrassed about sex. I am here to tell my friends, if you’ve never masturbated or find it gross, try it out.

I started a bit later in life than one would expect considering I am writing a blog about it, but I am truly glad I did. So many women won’t even look at their vaginas. I remember inspecting mine when I was pregnant…and thinking how we so rarely look at our own female bodies. Male bodies and genitalia are out there–a penis can’t hide, unless it’s truly that small. It’s out there. It’s probably impossible to not touch yourself at least a few times a day if you’re a guy.

If you’re interested in sex toys, I would check out Toys in Babeland…they’ve got shops in the city and I believe, Washington, as well as a strong online presence. Order now!!

Ask your friends too. You would be surprised who might have an awesome suggestion for a good vibrator or dildo.

If you just covered your eyes, or asked yourself,”What’s a vibrator or dildo?,” we need to chat. We need to seriously chat.

My favorite best friend was a tiny little waterproof bullet-sized vibrator. It was the best ever. When it died, I was devastated.

Most guys will be totally cool with adding a little vibrator or dildo action in the bedroom. If he’s not, you have to wonder just how confident he is…and secure. There’s no shame in bringing a little buzz to the bedroom. It might even take him off the hook if he’s not finishing the deed.

If enough people ask, I will be more than welcome to suggest products.

I will offer a few tips when buying sexual toys.

One–consider size. You know what you like.

Two-sound. Some vibrators are loud enough to let your neighbors know just what a sick deviant bitch you truly are. Find a quiet one!

Three- adjustable settings. Every girl likes it different. Some like it rough and fast, and others don’t. Adjustable settings always help.

Four–get a mirror. Look at your own stuff. Don’t be blind to what you look like down there kiddo. Vaginas are not our enemy. Men or women who don’t want to take the appropriate time to get to know them, are the enemies.

A lot of people probably find me writing a blog about masturbating to be the most ridiculous thing ever, but I think it’s important to guide young women and women to be in charge and aware of our desires and boundaries. The more aware we are of what makes us comfortable and aroused, the less likely we are to settle or tolerate things that make us uncomfortable or turned off. Boys are taught through the company of other males about sex, but women…it’s different. We talk about other aspects, but not usually these aspects. It’s important we take control of our sexual lives. They are important.

And remember…

if you’re happy and you know it, use your hands!

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Enjoy these moments. They’ll soon be gone.

In Uncategorized on March 20, 2013 at 3:25 am

Your child is growing faster than you want him or her to. The dishes can be done another day. The floors can be cleaned tomorrow.

I wish I always stuck to this rule, but alas, I have a mean case of the “cleanies,” or otherwise known as mild mild OCD and the compulsive need to know I could run my finger along the floor and find not one speck of dirt.

I am home with my child for the majority of the week, but not all, and I find that you can be home with a kid, but it doesn’t necessarily equal quality time. While I waste some time doing the necessities like, cleaning, cooking, or catching up with work emails and/or writing work, I really try to put stuff aside to play as much as I can with my daughter.

I know I will be working an insane job and losing out on all this time with her, and that one day she will turn to me and say, “Later, mom.”

She already wants to read her books on her own, or even sit by herself. She is fiercely independent.

I just urge parents to set the phone/work/worries/chores aside, and just enjoy these moments.

My daughter sometimes uses the wrong object pronouns– ” Mommy pick you up.”

She holds onto little washcloths, and kisses her Snoopy and Tinkerbell stickers. She asks us to sleep in my bed, and asks me to sing particular songs to her.

One day she won’t do such things, and won’t want me the same way. I won’t be the center of her universe. Is it draining dealing with toddler mood swings? Sure. However, it is a precious time. I can’t imagine her as a big person at all. I love basking in her energy and vivaciousness. I feel so honored to watch her grow up.

I know I am not saying anything earth-shattering or new, but just let it slide, those little things. They can be done later. I try to take my own advice, because it’s legitimate.

Childhood is so magical, because children always suspend disbelief. They always live in the moment, unless they’re desperately talking about their birthdays months in advance, or talking about that trip they made to Disney as if they did it yesterday. They have an amazing capability to sense people’s genuineness and emotions. It is a time like no other in life.

I know that one day I will miss all the time I spent coloring, painting, reading, singing, and chasing after my little sprite. I know all mothers think their children are superb, but I cannot help but think that since I only have one child, I really landed a fantastic one.

She will sometimes say, ‘Mommy, play with you (meaning me),” and I have to stop what I am doing so I can go to her side.

One day, she will be too busy to play with me, and I will always wish for just one more time to play.

You Cry Baby! Appropriate places to get all gushy

In Uncategorized on March 19, 2013 at 3:15 am

Some of us are  just too damn emotional. Yeah, yeah you know it. Estrogen and progesterone combine to make some of us–read me–a bunch of wet tissues and red-rimmed eyes.

I can’t be the only one who has emotional moments. Have you ever been dumped? Shit on during bad German porn? Left at the altar? Divorced because you partner decided to have a mid-life crisis or follow some white guy guru who claims to have the key to connecting with your higher power? Stained a new shirt? Had a bad hair day? Had terrible sex? Or no sex? Has your vagina only seen the action of a Tampax? Has your penis seen your sock more than a woman’s thighs? Has your favorite television show been canceled? Did you have to sit next to a smelly homeless guy on a subway? Did you ever have someone put a booger on you?

If you answered yes, you may need to cry. You may need to weep like an old lady at a funeral. There’s nothing wrong with shedding some tears. Think of all the songs that have been written about crying.

The problem becomes when you cry in appropriate places. Let me give you some examples of places where you should cry…and places where you shouldn’t.

1-The Gym

I cried in the middle of my workout as I ran on the treadmill. I made the very large man who was working on his pecs, very uncomfortable. I think he may have gone to the bathroom to shoot up more testosterone, or possibly adjust his balls. Either way, crying in the middle of the gym is a bad idea. This isn’t Rocky or Vision Quest. Quit the wet face, pussy.

Alternative appropriate place to cry: In the woods

Take a run in the woods and cry while listening to Barbara Streisand. Just be sure to not drown yourself in a river. That’s rather dramatic darling/

2-During sex

While I know sometimes sex can be very bad–I know that sounds difficult to imagine, but sometimes it’s more than just painful. It’s god-effin’ awful…when you sit and wait with bated breath for it to end, that’s a sign it sucks.

Either way, crying during sex because your dad didn’t/doesn’t love you, or because you were traumatized when you caught your brother masturbating and now your partner’s penis looks like your brother’s penis, is not a good time to cry.

If you are feeling traumatized, try a nice vibrator (which always works and never is too tired to go down on you), or for the men, try your hand or a blow-up doll. At least she won’t tell you she has a headache again.

Alternative appropriate place to cry: watching porn

Have you ever seen how hard some of those women work? Cry for them. That’s gotta be tiring.

3- While shopping

If you are so upset and distraught that picking out workout clothes at the Sports Authority or picking out a new novel to read can’t distract you from sobbing like you just watched Steel Magnolias, you need to stay home. You need to stay home and medicate yourself. If you disagree with me, call a local psychiatrist. Thanks.

alternative appropriate place to cry: friend’s shoulder

Life can truly suck sometimes. It can be worse than smelling the sweaty testicles of a monkey. You may really have every reason to drop all kinds of antidepressants and seek help. No shame in that. If you can’t afford real help, recruit a very nice friend who wears bad clothes, and slobber all over his or her clothes. Try not to get too much snot on their outfits though, otherwise your friends will kick you to the curb.

4-Final place to not cry.

In front of your in-laws, ex-boyfriend’s, old employers (never cry at work anyway), grumpy female friends who tend to PMS hardcore (potential bitches) or other potential unknown enemies.

It’s not cute looking weak in front of those who may or may not really like you. Why? Because they are just waiting for you to fail. They don’t like you and will really get off on seeing you upset. They will attack you when you are down and enjoy every minute.

Instead, you should be the better person, and give these people the finger when they are not looking. Slashing tires may be appropriate when an ex is involved. Seek friends’ opinions when deciding on such drastic measures.

alternative appropriate place to cry: your parents

They are stuck with you whether they want to be or not, and they may not like being stuck with you despite what they lead you to believe. Either way, corner one of your parents and cry like a little bitch for as long as you like. They are entitled to listen and watch while you cry. They are not allowed to tell you to put on your big girl or boy panties. If they tell you that, remind them that they are the reason you are so fucked up in the first place.

Love, me.

I’m sorry…so sorry

In Uncategorized on March 14, 2013 at 3:16 am

I apologize too much

This is possibly my most irritating trait to date.

I find myself apologizing for things that are out of my control like, “I’m sorry your wife won’t blow you more.”

Or

“I’m sorry your 17-year-old son has the vocabulary of a five-year old.”

And really, “I’m sorry I took so long. I’m sorry I’m short. I’m sorry I am five minutes late. I’m sorry the sun doesn’t shine on your ass.”

I apologize for everything. It is disgusting. I have never once met a man who did this–apologizing like a fool all the time. We women are just taught to not be too X, Y, or Z, so I guess we have become accustomed to apologizing. Maybe it’s because we also say on occasion, rude stuff that we then passive-aggressively (not a word) apologize for.

We have been socially constructed to be polite and empathetic people. Women are told to “be good girls,” and ” to be nice.” We hear this from the second we hit preschool. It is part of the expectation that as a female, we will be “good” and “nice,” and therefore, we must apologize when we have not held ourselves up to this standard and expectation. When we fall short from the “good, nice” female role, we must apologize for falling short from these expectations.

But my apologizing is at a whole other level of BS.

There are a million reasons why I may be saying, “sorry darling.”

Here are a few of those reasons.

I don’t like people to be mad at me. Growing up around fighting is enough to make a person anxious about any type of confrontation, even if it’s a mild-level confrontation. I would rather avoid those issues, than fall prey to an argument. Just take my apology, and let’s move on, even if I barely did anything. Even if I just breathed the wrong way, and I saw you raise your eyebrow slightly.

I. Saw. That. Eyebrow! This could mean trouble…to head it off at the pass, I apologize.

I say I am sorry because I have the burdensome amount of guilt that not even the Mega Jewish mother of the world could hold without her tits sagging right into her Star of David. My guilt isn’t even from the fact that my dad is Jewish, and mom was catholic pre her conversion to Judaism.

I just have this guilt. Maybe it’s sexual abuse guilt. Maybe it’s low self-esteem guilt. Maybe it’s mother’s guilt, or maybe I am just like quite a few other women, and simply feel guilty for sharing my feelings and opinions like men do.

I know it’s 2013, but guess what mo-fo’s? Not everyone gets that. Some people–some men–feel like a woman’s opinion is just not the same as a man’s.  I find myself apologizing at times when I am revealing way more than I suspect the person wants to hear. If you read my blog about meek women, you know I probably do this a bit more often than the average bear.

I apologize because I want people to feel I care about their needs. I know a few people who seem to be so shut off from their emotions–or maybe they don’t even have any? (that I doubt)– that I find myself apologizing to even these folks if I feel their feelings may have been hurt. Rather than making someone ask me to apologize for some unintentional slight I may have done, such as being five minutes late, or forgetting to offer him or her a drink, I apologize so that the person knows that I know I’m a schmuck.

And that may just be the heart of my story folks. I sometimes, think I am a schmuck. I undermine myself and forget to value who I am deep at heart, maybe because I have often been dwindled down by people who felt so bad about themselves that they figured, “Hey, why don’t I let someone else join me in my little misery pot?”

Here are a few things I apologize for, in case this blog offends or bores someone.

I am sorry for: maxi pads that are too bulky; quickies in which one person doesn’t come; being boring; complaining; writing nonsense that no one gives a shit about; the economy; my occasional need to interrupt (okay, if you speak slowly, maybe a bit more than occasionally); my boobs; my kid’s loud mouth; my loud mouth; my family’s collective sound of loudness; my non-hybrid vehicle; my cooking; my vagina–actually wait, she’s kinda cute; my former commercials that may have been lame; any bad sets I had as a stand-up; cheesy jokes involving my last name; picking my wedgie when everyone is looking.

I hope that suits you all.

If not, I’m so fucking sorry.

The Grass isn’t Greener on the Other Side: Reality Check

In Uncategorized on March 11, 2013 at 10:10 pm

 One of the biggest values I see in my country is the “New” value.

What’s this ‘New” value? It’s the value that if something isn’t working, we can throw it away and get something new. This not only pertains to toys, televisions, cars, or jobs, but also relationships and people.

Monogamy is problematic in itself. Despite the fact that we really aren’t designed to be with one person sexually, most people flock to monogamous relationships, whether for family reasons or security reasons. People find comfort in coupledom, even though there should never be  just one person meeting all a person’s various needs as that is a lot for one person to do. Sure, a partner can meet most or some of one’s needs, but one will always need other people in addition to a partnership for a myriad of different ways.  Co-workers for work knowledge and growth. Friends for hobby talk, shared interests, or simple social time.

With monogamy still being a rather popular state, I find it sad that so many of us in this particular country–I can’t speak for others–give up so easily when we feel things are tough or not working.

We have all felt this way. There have been many days in which I or a friend of mine has said, “Ugh I can’t take it! What a crappy fight/day/situation!”

Yet there is a huge difference between dealing with a rough day, and simply walking away and shaking one’s hands totally clean of another person.

We look at our “garden”–our relationships, our marriage, our friendships, our boyfriend or girlfriend, and suddenly all we see are weeds. Look at those weeds. Look at the little creepy crawlies or rabbits that keep eating my plants. Look at that shrub–it never bloomed flowers like it was supposed to. See how this grass over here is a bit yellow? Damnit, I watered it and tended to that grass like a fiend. Why is it not healthy? Why is there a patch in my garden that refuses to grow any grass, despite having planted seed there? Why does my garden not look as good as my neighbor’s? Why is his so much better than mine? I bet he has better fertilizer. I bet he has more money. I bet I can just go to a landscaper and get rid of this junk, and have a better garden. 

The grass looks so much lusher over in Mr. X or Mrs. Y’s garden. Her plants are fuller. Trimmed better. Nicer pavers. Never gets crab grass. I’d love to have his or her garden. My own is terrible.

Yet if we went over to Mr. X or Mrs. Y’s house, I betcha ten dollars that all he or she is obsessing about, is the one patch of weeds he/she always has to pluck.  Mr. X is looking longingly at your garden, while you stare at his.

Often, people walk away and start anew. “New” means better. New means more possibilities and less work. New means I can start off on the right foot. I can get what I want finally, instead of dealing with the metaphorical weeds, crab grass, and yellow spots in my garden. Finally, I will have what I want.

After awhile, as one strolls through this new garden, one is bound to find weeds. Plants that never quite grow. A bunch of rabbits that keep eating the greenery.

“But how was this? It seemed so right before! So perfect! I never saw those weeds. I never noticed those rabbits.”

We recycle people, toys, cars, and material items as if they are all going out of style. Everything can be better! It’s the American way.

“Look Ma–the newest version of X…”

We walk away from things that aren’t unrepairable, and buy new things when we are tired of what we have and want what the next dude has in front of us. When someone irritates us, we dump him or her too, because hey, there are plenty of fish in the sea. Those other fish probably aren’t as –insert negative quality–as my fish.

This goes for jobs too. I bet Mrs. Y’s boss is better than my boss. I bet if I move to this company, I will get X, Y, and Z, forgetting that while we may get those added bonuses, a whole bunch of new problems will be there to face us. They may be different issues than the ones we deal with now, but they will be there. We just think they might be easier problems, and indeed, they may…or they may not be.

I’m not saying we should hold on to everything and everyone. Some plants just don’t grow in particular environments, and some people just don’t work together. Some people, no matter how much they try, will never be a great combination. It’s a sad reality that all of us have faced in our lives. Not everyone “fits” us. and we do not fit everyone. That’s okay. 

I just feel that as a society, we value the “new” too much. We think something new will solve the problems that we had with the last person or product, yet this “new” person or product will hand us different problems. We must be tenacious to solve and work at them. We shouldn’t just walk away, unless it simply is unhealthy or dangerous for ourselves.

It’s not a matter of deciding to stick with something or someone even if it harms us, but knowing that when we enter into any relationship, whether a business or love partnership, that we will have to work hard to manage and maintain it.. We will have to water that garden, and watch as it sometimes flourishes, and other times, wanes.

 

 

My new personal essay

In Uncategorized on March 11, 2013 at 2:29 pm

I’ve just published a new personal essay on the website “Whispers From Greece.”

It’s about loss and growth during trauma through the lens of mythology!

http://mellissa.sygraphe.com/2013/03/11/emerging-from-winter-finding-persephone/

The Meak Lady: the Backlash against Bigmouth Females

In Uncategorized on March 7, 2013 at 3:54 am

Seems like men really like their women lukewarm, a bit drippy, and slightly quiet.

If you have read my blogs or you know me, you know damn well that I don’t fit those categories.And you know what, it’s a cold, lonely day’s night when you’re a woman with chutzpah. A bigmouth at times. Outspoken. Silly and irreverent. Honest. Perverted. Slightly anxious. Okay, so more than slightly.

Why do men want the wallflowers? Why must the Donna Reed’s, Donna Martin’s,Reese Witherspoon’s, and Kate Middleton’s get all the love?

Where is the respect and admiration for those of us who don’t care enough to pander to your low self-esteem and tiny penis problems and insecurities?

Where is the passion for the woman who makes the sex joke at the wrong time, and in the wrong place, with a total smile and good intention in her heart?

I used to impersonate Dr. Ruth as a kid. I dressed up as Pee Wee Herman. I can learn voices adeptly and within minutes. I don’t like the Bachelor, football, or Twilight. I don’t know how to bake well, and I cannot fix something to save my life. I will never wear clothes from LL Bean or Talbots. I am reluctantly facing the fact that I cannot wear combat boots and have pink hair anymore, lest I never get hired again.

I still love the Sex Pistols, and I like to comment on chick’s boobs.

I will probably never make your lunch (at least not daily), and I definitely won’t  feel shy about telling your friends how you sometimes forget to flush the toilet. I will hold back on the important stuff though.

There isn’t enough love for the lady with a loudmouth, mainly because we don’t fit your picture of lady hood.

I’m not going to scratch my vagina in public, or walk around with my tits hanging out, but I will probably tell you my political opinions, although I won’t step on yours.

I may even read–gasp–large books that don’t involve S and M acts, or sparkly vampires. I prefer S and M mildly in reality, and my vampires more like Keifer Sutherland and the gang in the Lost Boys.

I will probably never totally understand football–I will get enough of it to understand what you are saying and to engage you enough because I care–but I will never truly give a shit.

I am just me. You men want me to keep quiet, be bland, and don’t be anxious.

Essentially, I am supposed to just divorce myself from my personality.

Look, there are days I wished I could be a bit more subdued. Days I wish I were more elegant like Hillary, and not as honest as Joan Rivers. There were many times I even tried to hold back, and to keep myself at bay, but it just doesn’t work.

The real me always comes out, and honestly, even if the menfolk don’t like their “women” loud and a bit neurotic, I can’t help it.

Sometimes I am quiet–particularly if I feel uncomfortable. I have been around certain people who silence me out of fear, or anxiety, but in general, I find being quiet dull. I always have something to say. Maybe it’s not always that wonderful or poignant, but it’s me.

If you don’t like it, you can kindly go jerk off  your minuscule excuse for a pee-pee in a cellar with a big obese woman with a mustache, chin hair, and belly button lint who likes singing off key  Bette Midler’s “The Rose” in Yiddish or German.

Or,ahem, you can kindly look the other way.

Ah, it was so much better the first way I said it…

Turn on your (love) light

In Uncategorized on March 6, 2013 at 4:44 am

I have been thinking a lot about happiness and how my relationships with people–whether romantic, family, or friendship–affect me. I have been thinking about other people and how they relate and share friendships, love, and life with others. This is probably because I’m writing a monthly love column and have to think about this stuff. Maybe it’s because I have also had a crappy year and need to make some changes, some refinements in how I conduct my life.

One of the biggest lessons I have had to learn in my life is not to let others dim my light, and I am still not very good at it at times.

We all have an energy or glow about ourselves that radiate who we are, and what we want from the world around us.When we let other people into our inner circle whether it be a love partner, family member, or a friend, we allow them to partake in our light, or our energy.

If this person starts to dim that light or suppress your energy, you can damn well bet that you will suffer.

This is all basic psychology. Nothing new to what I am saying here, but maybe it’s time we reflected on how the people in our lives contribute to our energy. Are they adding to who we are, or subtracting from our original “stack”? Do they make you feel important and cared for, or do they make you very aware of every flaw and insecurity you have?

When you have low self-esteem, it’s pretty easy to let someone else take away from your energy, or extinguish your flame so to speak. It’s almost too easy for you to start tearing away at yourself until all that is left is nothing but self-hatred and pain.

We make excuses and validate this individual’s behavior because we have bought into the story that he or she has sold us. Sure we are worthless, because person X has reminded me that I am Y, and this is bad, and it truly is bad, so why am I so bad?

It could be your mother, your wife, your friend, or your boss.

We just kind of start to assume that he or she wouldn’t say those things if they weren’t true Sure we must be X, Y, or Z because that person said it, and so it is truth.

When you start to feel like you don’t even know how to feel anymore, then you know you’ve been dimmed or drained.

A lot of us self-haters have learned that we are no good because of our early family or love relationships. It takes enormous strength to reteach ourselves that yes indeedy, we are good, we are okay, and we are lovable. It’s almost impossible to reach across that early broken border of abuse or neglect to buy into the fact that while we may indeed be a pain in the ass, we are actually okay. We might even be pretty wonderful.

Sometimes I forget this. I start to buy into what some person or the other told me. I start to panic thinking that maybe indeed, I will never be okay or feel alright, until something clicks in me that says, “Wait? Are any of these self-hating truths real?” “What is truth and what is fiction?”

If you feel as if you have come to a point in which you feel so terrible about yourself when you deal with a certain person, ask yourself if maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s the other person.

You have your own energy and light. If you let others suck that from you, you are left with nothing.

Don’t walk around empty. It is the worst feeling I have ever known.