Friday, May 9, 2014

Landslide


We know that Fleetwood Mac's song, Landslide, is rather a bit hokey.  It is appropriate for Herself at the moment, though.

Midlife is a tricky time.

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Well, I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I'm getting older too

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Casting A Die

Stepping onto a brand-new path is difficult, but not more difficult than remaining in a situation, which is not nurturing to the whole woman. ― Maya Angelou


Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Polish

On bodies, appearance, and sexuality.  Contains some sweeping generalizations as well as glossings-over of certain points. Perhaps we'll address those points in more detail in the future. 

Nearly thirty years ago, Herself briefly dated a young man who had firm ideas about how a girl should comport and adorn herself. When they went out to a movie, Herself wore sandals; she'd polished her toenails in a soft pink color. As they waited for the film to begin, he frowned at her feet and told her that he thought nail polish looked cheap and sleazy, and that she should not wear it. She tucked her feet underneath her during the movie, so the offending polish wouldn't be visible. The next day, she removed the polish.

He and she dated for three weeks. He then broke up with her (we've told that tale previously) because he expected sexual servicing, and Herself's disinclination to delve into physical activities with someone she barely knew trumped any desire to please him. He had already lined up another girl as his prom date for the following week; Herself could only assume that the girl had fewer qualms than she did about participating in sexual activities.

Herself restored the nail polish to her toenails, and attended prom with a gentlemanly acquaintance who did not have physical expectations of her. As they watched the couples on the dance floor, she found her previous assumption to be verified by the way the recently-broken-up boy and his new girl kissed and wrapped their arms around one another. Herself mused about the odd standards that the boy had held -- such a contrast between the expectation that she keep her appearance demure, and yet simultaneously be willing to offer herself sexually.  It was her first glimmer of the perplexing contradictions that women sometimes face. 

-------

It's an ongoing balancing act for every woman from puberty onwards:  how to look appealing and attractive without looking too sexual.  The problem is, each person's definition of what is too much varies.  It's difficult for a woman to predict how another person will exactly react to her appearance (assuming she is not dressing for shock value or for overt exposure of a plenitude of skin); what might be fine at one time and place, may be problematic at a different hour or location, for reasons that cannot be fully ascertained. It's not just the difference between "what may be appropriate for the dance club may not be appropriate for church" -- it's far more subtle than that.  

Overt sexuality crosses a woman into taboo territory -- that of the slut, the tramp, the whore.  She is judged, criticized, found to be less worthy than other women.  Her motives and emotions are questioned, dismissed, or just drowned out by the noise that rises in others' heads because of the view of her physical appearance.  Her personality is eclipsed by her body. And if Bad Things happen to her, it is said that it is her fault.  

Society sometimes tries to reign in the Bad Things by putting the burden on women to find the proper line on which to walk (see, e.g., don't wear leggings or yoga pants).  Is it fair -- or possible -- for women to be required to control others' behavior by comporting themselves a certain way? They cannot, in fact, control others. They do try, though. They spend time carefully arranging themselves to try to enhance allure without overtly displaying or affronting. Sometimes they succeed, and sometimes they fail. 

There is also an internal quandary for women.  If a person does not notice or comment on a woman's appearance, the woman has the satisfaction of feeling that she has value as a person regardless of her physical nature; simultaneously, though, she may also have a quiet yet pressing concern that perhaps the lack of notice or comment is indicative that she is in fact physically unattractive. I suspect that all human beings, and particularly women, want to be treated as worthy people -- but worthy attractive people. 

Why do we care so much whether we are physically appealing to others?  We just do.  It's biology. 

So what are women to do? Herself says: 

All we can do is to try our hardest to sent the right message and to carefully correct misinterpretations. We attempt to be attractive without aggressively drawing attention to our physical selves. We offer ourselves physically only to those whom we feel deserve the honor.  We hope for occasional affirmation of the acceptability of both our appearance and our personality -- everyone needs a little love, body and soul. 

And we wear nail polish if we feel inclined. 


Monday, May 5, 2014

Drop in the Ocean

Today's earworm:  A Drop in the Ocean, by Ron Pope.

It's like wishing for rain 
as I stand in the desert
But I'm holding you closer than most 
'cause you are my heaven


Sunday, May 4, 2014

Danger, Will Robinson

My fore-parts, as you so ineloquently put it, have names.”

I pointed to my right breast. “This is Danger.” Then my left. “And this is Will Robinson. I would appreciate it if you addressed them accordingly.”

After a long pause in which he took the time to blink several times, he asked, “You named your breasts?”

I turned my back to him with a shrug. “I named my ovaries, too, but they don’t get out as much
.”
― Darynda Jones, First Grave on the Right


Saturday, May 3, 2014

Art

Herself and Offspring the Second visited several local museums this morning.  She particularly liked this egg tempera-gold foil 15th century work, Adoration of the Shepherds, St John the Baptist, St Bartholemew (Master of the Osservanza).  It's just fascinating that hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of years later, we can still see the details of the faces and the tiny white bird and buildings in the distance, as well as the intricate etchings into the thin sheet of gold.  Remarkable. 


Friday, May 2, 2014

Because

“One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.”
― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist