The Vixen Phallacy

On the train this morning I chose to stand, as normal and read all the various ads, examine them for content and design and strength of message (I think I would have done well at an ad agency – I’m a big fan of getting a message across). On the last 2 trains I boarded today I was face to face with an ad for this book:

I stared at it for a while, just to see what she was peddling. Last time I heard her make an uproar in the press, it was for selling a book detailing every celebrity’s cash and prizes she’d stuck in her mouth. She even went so far to do it on screen to Mr. Marcus for the world to see. (I saw it, and quite honestly? I thought they should revoke her “Super” hero status… she ain’t do nothing special). The last video I saw of her was a rant after the guy from “Family Matters” (the older brother) dumped her so she went through a bag of their shared toys complete with benoit balls and butt pluggs, outing his enjoyment of things going in through the out door.

And now she has a book that claims to show us women (and maybe men, whatever floats your boat) “how to find, seduce and keep the man you want”.

I read the line over and over again. And looked up at her picture…. and read the line again. And referenced all that I knew about her… and read the line again. Okay. Taking into account everything that I just said about her, i focused on the picture.

Assuming that the picture is actually the real position that it was taken in and not transformed or reflected on a horizontal plane to make right left and left right (designers and photo editors feel me) then we have to extrapolate that her left hand is being prominently displayed on the cover. Let’s take a closer look…

There’s something missing from this picture to make her book’s tagline altogether believable. She’s going to tell me how to find, seduce and keep the man I want but there’s not even a TAN line on that ring finger. Not a trace that any man she found and seduced had decided to stick around long enough. But I feel like a million women are really going to trust her to know what to do to get someone to love them. Whatever happened for checking the fruit on the tree before asking someone for advice? Don’t ask someone who’s in a failing relationship how to save yours. Don’t ask a broke compulsive gambler how to win in the stock market. Don’t ask someone who’s morbidly obese and wants to do nothing about it how to get thin. And to this we add… don’t ask a whore how to be an honest woman.

I wonder if she’ll take her own advice one day and actually get someone to stick around. Or might the next book be about How to properly use your Rebound Guy; or How to get his stuff out of your house; or How to make it with his friends so that you get him jealous.

*smdh*

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The End is Near…

Well… the end of my 6 week medical leave. What a journey, truly.

I haven’t posted about my recovery since week 2 because I was getting so stir crazy I couldn’t really put it into words anymore. I started to get a little frustrated with the prospect of ALWAYS being home. It felt like I could do more and be more if I could just go outside. But then I said, well… what could I do right here w/o leaving the house. And my good ole Wii caught my attention. My work out because a pivotal part of my morning as I can’t control popping wide awake at 5 AM right now (I have SO much more energy as a result of the fibroids being gone). So I take the early morning as an opportunity to meditate, enjoy the sunrise and exercise. My body is looking and feeling different for it and I love it so much. I am just worried about finding time to do it when I’m back at work but i’m going to hope and pray that the energy I feel isn’t just because I’m away from the office… So that it continues when I’m back there. I don’t want anything getting to be an excuse in my progress so I have to anticipate what I may have normally used as “reasoning” (for instance my hair was THE. BIGGEST. EXCUSE. for me… it was too much for me to sweat out my perm every day. Excuse removed. Literally.)

So in terms of my physical recovery from the surgery, my incision healed up completely round about week 3. Even now (week 6) it’s still tender and itches, but I understand that’s par for the course with one of these. So I take it in stride. It healed pretty neatly so that I didn’t feel like FrankenToria, so for that I’m grateful. I haven’t really felt any serious movings around on the inside as far as feeling that healing. But I did get my period last week – I won’t go in to gory details for the sake of the men / squeamish that read my blog, but I’m hip to the idea that it’ll take a few months before my body is like… “hey wait… there aren’t any more fibroids… we can cut back on the production here.” The good news is that it only lasted 7 days. I know … I know, normal girl reading this. That seems like a LOT to you. But great to me when on average it lasted 13 days. So yay for progress!! It still feels AMAZING to push down on any part of my abdomen where the fibroids used to be and feel…. nothing. Just .. like… fat. LOL But soon I won’t feel that anymore.

The prospects of the future are inspiring. I might be as thin as I was almost 10 years ago right now and steady declining. The energy is up, so the spirits are in check. I go back to work soon, but I believe that this break made me a more positive, creative and productive person to have on the workforce. And best of all… There’s the prospect of having a sweet little baby of my own. The hope doesn’t stop. Neither does the prayer… and I’m doing all the action on my part. AMEN

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to moon.

I couldn’t sleep.
I woke up and went to the window
to torture myself under the lunacy of the moonlight
for it to shed some clarity on my mindsight.
When i peered into a window across the way
and became captivated
soft shadows moved…
rhythmically
tenderly
across the street
in the dead of night
there was
love being made.
slowly and sincerely
hurling me into envy
so much jealousy
my skin crawls with the desire
to be caressed and
obsessed.
back to bed to dream
if it was me in that
window’s scene
just to awake to find my mind’s eye
had made it up of tree shadows
and the moons imagery.
it’s amazing what the mind will
make you see…

Bad Vibrations

I have lived in apartment buildings all my life. I’ve never had the experience of living in a home that belonged to me or my family where only they lived beneath my feet. And I’ve always been being told to live my life worrying about what I do will affect the people who live beneath and on either side of me. “Don’t run.” “Don’t walk too hard.” “Turn your radio down.” “Stop jumping around.” “Lower your voice.” We wanted to be considerate and courteous neighbors. Our neighbors upstairs weren’t exactly trying to do the same and actually seemed that for the 28 years I lived there, they would always have a young child run the length of the apartment through out the weekdays and all of the weekends. We’d go up there and beg them to please have mercy on us once in a blue moon and they’d claim to understand our pain but would resume pretty much by the time we got back to our apartment. From what I understand, my brother who current lives there is victim to the loud living styles of the upstairs, next door AND the downstairs neighbors at this time. He’s gone to talk to them. He’s called the cops. Nothing works. And he doesn’t sleep.

With that being said, I currently live in a 4 apartment brownstone in Brooklyn. It’s a 100 year old building with hard wood floors. We are on the top floor. So we experience the spoils of nothing really making noise above us. However, we try to be mindful of our neighbor downstairs. (next door doesn’t seem to be an issue because we’ve heard them at their loudest and it hasn’t been so bad that we felt the need to bang on walls). My neighbor downstairs has been a little sensitive to our presence up here. Before we got here, the apt was on the market for about 8 months. That’s a lot of time to get used to all the quiet. When we got here, there were a couple of slight suggestions made about getting an area rug (which just wasn’t in the budget), she mentioned to the hubby that she can “hear him getting up at 5 AM for work” and most recently one day when Max-i-mus was here keeping me company on a friday afternoon, we were blasting music and singing loud and off key. At 9:15, my neighbor came up and asked us to turn it down because she couldn’t hear her own television over it all. Which is fine – but it was with a tone that implied that she was holding her tongue all this time and really? to her? we’re always loud. (When we truly aren’t).

Since on disability and able to start really moving around again, I’ve rediscovered my Wii. Yoga mostly. But as the days went on and I started to feel stronger, I wanted to incorporate more of a challenge. I started doing the stepping. Which is fine. And I WOULD do the hula hoop if it wasn’t for the concentration of movement being all around where I just got operated on. So I said… lemme try the jogging.

And I? FELL. IN. LOVE.

I LOVE IT… it revitalizes me… it makes me feel good… and I really feel that I’m working my heart and my body. It, to me? is the best exercise on the Wii.

So what’s the problem?

You guessed it – it means that I’m jumping up and down over my neighbor’s head. The hubby SWEARS I’m not making so much noise to be accused of disturbing any peace. I fear causing so much vibration that her paintings fall or her light fixtures collapse onto her head. I’m hypersensitive about it but mostly because of my upbringing coupled with the past few subtle complaints mentioned above sprinkled over the last 2 and 1/2 years.

So I turn to my blog audience… what shall I do? Do I go ahead and get my work out in and never mind her till she complains? Do I augment what I have to do for the sake of peace keeping? Does anyone know of any noise / shock cancelling pads I could purchase for the floor? I do need rational suggestions so that I can continue down the path of health and physical well being.

Thanks in advance all!

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