Bra on, bra off; bra on, bra off;

Weird how a ripple of something you’d almost forgotten can submerge you: A memory. The echo of a thought converging from a fragment of the past. It sweeps you up; maybe an unanswered question rocks across time. It’s only a relic now, the relationship between inquiry and answer no longer kinetic, the answers lost to time.

But then life can lapse back on itself sometimes, and deliver your past right into your future, throwing a crowbar into the careful, linear arrangement of events.

Sometimes it isn’t the past, but something you’ve thought of so often, the factual realization takes on a sense of unreality. A voice you’ve dreamed of careens against your ear canal. Certainty implodes upon itself and you find the crazy ideas turning into real. ‘Someday’ retains this possibility of crazy things.

But here… especially here, in the twilight writing world, we deal more often in meanwhiles. We try to work out that which sits in front of us. The signs, whether they spring from inside or out, are mostly unreadable. Ancient greek dancing before a furrowed brow, and the tighter you try and draw your translations, the more hopelessly confused and ridiculous the interpretation turns out to be.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I’ve been battling wave after wave of virus. I donno if it’s a bio-rhythm thing, or just Sierra’s school shoring up it’s reputation as Plague Headquarters of North America. I’m ready for the stupid little sicknesses, and the big soaring blechy-blechs to be over and done for awhile. The household is dealing with strep at the moment. I thought I was coming down with it, but it turned into something else. I’m sorta grateful.

I hate to go from soaringly vague language into the nastiness of everyday life, but it’s easier not to air these thoughts if I air them just once. And I gotta say, I hate to wipe a whole bunch.

Well, I do. I have a sensitive bum, but I’m also obsessive about personal cleanliness and my ass is… chapped. (I imagine any man reading this is now wanting my sexy self pretty damned bad.)

As long as I’m talking body grievance, there are some other design issues I’d like to contest:

Breasts?

Hi. How are you, Anglo-God, or Visigoth the Worm-deity, or whoever came up with these flesh balls. Suggestion: there should be a size cap. Brazzieres are not particularly comfortable, I’ll have your worm-assed holiness know. They’re kinda like slings, actually, and depending upon your undergarment budget, there’s the definite chance of scratchy threads rankling the tender under-arm/side area.

I dislike this.

But taking the bra off isn’t all that comfortable, either. If you have been generously endowed, (and a lot of women who’ve had a child are at least somewhat generously endowed) then these ridiculous pooches of excess become a damn nuisance. I am not so old or lacking elasticity that I have a ‘hanging’ problem, as yet, but without support, I’ve been reliably informed that my gazangas will not stay ‘buoyant’ forever. In holy hell fear of being a self-apointed ’saggy’ matron, I find myself holding them, two handfuls worth, if I’ve gone bra-free for the evening. (This generally coincides with a ’stay-at-home’ evening, just so you know.) If I’m doing something with one hand, I’ll ‘lean’ one breast on the helpful shelf of my lower arm, while the palm of that hand keeps the other bosom afloat.

It’s pretty ridiculous.

Now men, men can probably relate a little bit to this conundrum. If you waltzed about the house ‘holding’ your equipment, wouldn’t you feel a little silly? And yet, it’s so nice not to have anything poking or enclosing me for a little. So sometimes I suck it up and just hold the goods.

But that’s not my only grievance…

Teeth. Yeah, teeth. This is a particularly bitter issue for me. I was young, stupid, procrastinating, certainly. But also had quite a lot on my plate at the time the issue of my Wisdom teeth became a real… issue. When you are pregnant/newly mothered and extracting yourself from a dangerous domestic relationship, you aren’t thinking, ‘Hey, this seems like a great time to go have large molars extracted from my already hurty face.’

Soo… I didn’t.

Not for a good long while. I wish I could go change that decision. See, I was born and raised with impossibly lovely, straight teeth, so it’s like a double insult to have crooked bottom teeth, now. Fortunately the top teeth didn’t go all rebellious, and it’s not wildly noticeable unless I grin like a loon, but I’m still very self-conscious about the visible crookedness. I haven’t had dental insurance for… ever, really, Or I’d just get braces. Braces are ugly, but not permanent. Better… far better than ugly permanence.

Shouldn’t evolution have caught up by now? We don’t need extra teeth anymore, in modern society. We don’t need to waltz about with a shark-mouth full of carnivorous gnashers. Two full sets will work fine, thank you, for one life time. I really don’t need any bony protruders rearing up at age twenty to fuck with the symmetry of my pretty little mouth.

I’m just sayin’

Back to the wipe issue though, cus I’ve intuited that this is what you, my weebles, really want to talk about before dinner. If you are a cat owner, do you ever think about what’s going on with those little fur-monsters and their daily business?

This is part of why I get pretty upset if a cat rests its laurels on my bed. Think of what they do. With their butts. In a box.

No toilet paper, no wipies. And then they go sit on your bed.

EW!

You won’t believe me, but this is why we are now a nation of pod people. That’s right: Because of feline fecal matter. I know that sounds nutsy, but it’s true. It’s a kind of mind control… not by government but by cat butt. The perpetrator is a parasite called ‘Toxoplasma Gondii’ which actually effects as much as 60 million Americans, through the brain, and causes some fascinating shifts in behavior, both from an individual and a group standpoint.

If you think I’ve gone wacko, I don’t blame you after this grossioso post, so go read about it here:

http://notexactlyrocketscience.wordpress.com/2007/01/14/brain-parasite-drives-human-culture/

http://discovermagazine.com/2007/feb/toxoplasma-gondii-culture-sex-ratio

Doesn’t that just blow your mind? Literally?

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Tags: bodily concerns, bra, breasts, butt powder, cat poo, chapped hide, gazangas, grievances, horrifying honesty, maintenance, teeth, ugly

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