This post is about barfing

Just thought I’d throw that out there. In case you don’t like reading about vomit. But who doesn’t?

Besides, this is not about vomit. It’s about love. It’s about how I have the best fucking boyfriend in the whole world.

Last night we went up to see his parents. It’s a 45 minute drive through winding roads. Over the course of the evening I began to get nauseous and I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. Of all the hours that we were there all I could do was dry heave.

Bear with me…bare with me? It’s bear right?

On the drive home I had to have the boyfriend pull the truck over on the side of the road at which point i threw the dog at him, leapt out and collapsed into the dirt, dry heaving my guts out. A few minutes and a lot of deep breathing later I got back into the truck and we made it home.

We pulled up and parked on front of our landlord’s house (we live behind it). My boyfriend told me he’d take the dog and to just go inside. I nodded. Opened the door.

And barfed everywhere.

I threw up directly onto my motorcyle boots and then all over my landlord’s yard.

Why am I telling you this story?

Because the boyfriend calmly picked up the dog so he wouldn’t eat all the barf and then he came over and held my hair back for me.

What an awesome man.

He even went down and hosed off the sidewalk afterwards.

I can’t think of too many men I’ve dated that would be that sweet while I was puking up oreos and potstickers.

That right there, kids, that’s love.

Pig on the Beach

I’m really going to miss the beach when we move back to PDX. Franklin has never been one for the dog park. He likes to be on the move, not fenced in being forced to actually interact with other dogs (the horror!). Dog beach has become a weekly tradition for us. At some point in the week one of us will look at each other and say, “Hey, you wanna take the pig to the beach today?”

I’m not entirely sure when we started referring to Frankie as a pig but I know it stemmed from his long famed pig-belly. I guess we were saying pig-belly so much that he became the pig…with the pig belly. Or piggins. Piggles. Pigenstein. He knows that when he’s being called pig, that he’s not in trouble. When he misbehaves, we call him Franklin.

The roundabout point was that the coast is a few hours away from Portland. Not super do-able every week. For now, I’m trying to enjoy it as much as I can and take lots of pictures.

We’ve gone out even when it’s been stormy lately. Last night we had the entire beach to ourselves.It was cold and windy as hell but Frankie ran and ran and ran like a real live, normal dog. I love seeing that.

Some rays peeking through the storm.

Pig belly on display.

Being creepy in bar bathrooms.

I have to start writing again. I just haven’t the slightest idea what to say anymore.

About that whole hippie thing….

Well it just got….worse? Better?

I’ve gone vegan. For real this time.

As I mentioned in the last post, when I did it before I cheated a fair amount. My heart wasn’t in it. I was doing it for the boyfriend and I resented it. I was pissed that choices at restaurants were whittled down to three things. I missed cheese. So I got grumpy. It was hard for me to cut things out of my diet when I had no idea why I was doing it other than to appease a guy.

Then, I watched this documentary.

One of my greatest fears is dying a slow, painful death from cancer. This movie gave me all the scientific evidence that I needed to understand that I should not be putting animal based food in my body. Or crap food in general. Lord knows you can be an unhealthy, junk food vegan. Duncan Heines frosting is vegan! That doesn’t mean it should go in my belly.

I’ve felt lethargic, sad, unmotivated and just tired (expect for the insomnia) all the time. For pretty much my whole adult life. What if putting the right things in my body helped that? I’m willing to go on meds but I’m not willing to eat more veggies?? Bullshit. I want to change my taste buds back to what they were before I loved Taco Bell nachos and Coke. I want to be able to taste natural food again.

Then….I watched this documentary. It’s like a vegan for dummies movie.

Forks over Knives made me see what giving up meat and dairy could do for my health. Vegucated told me what I already knew, that slaughterhouse practices are terrifying, but it also SHOWED me. It shows just enough to make you sick, but not so much that it was in your face.

If you can eat meat after watching a piglet squeal and run for it’s life while another piglet gets shot in the head with a bolt gun, by all means, eat your bacon. I just can’t. I was crying watching that.

I wouldn’t eat him…

So I can’t justify eating him…

Random sidenote, search Google images for “piglet”. Pigs are weird looking animals. They look like bats when they’re babies.

Now I’m not gonna get all preachy on you. If anything else vegan related pops up on this blog it will most likely be me lamenting the fact that there is no awesome fake cheese. No matter what anyone tells you, there just isn’t. I’ve tried them all. Some are passable but never awesome.

My trouble with veganism has always been and will most likely continue to be the people. Just like religious people who feel the need to shove their beliefs in your face and shit on you for what you choose to do, there are plenty of vegans just like that. They piss me off. They give it a bad name. Get off your high horse and let Bob eat Burger King if he wants to. It’s not your body. If you’re concerned about the effect Bob’s meat filled diet is having on animals, then go do something. Protest, join the Animal Liberation Front but shut up. You’re only making Bob want a steak more.

Vegans get preachy and superior. Meat eaters get defensive and angry. Shut up. Do what’s right for you and shut up. If someone wants to get educated then help them out but you can’t force people into a lifestyle change like this.

I finally WANT to do this. It feels really good to want something. I haven’t felt passionate about…pretty much anything for the last few years. I was stuck in a cycle of needing attention and sex and drama (which totally made for better blogging, I agree) so I  never figured out what mattered to me other than men and people thinking I was pretty. I am completely passionate about living as long as I can, being as healthy as I can but more so I can’t hurt an animal. This choice, in an odd way, has started shaping a future for me. I have ideas about what I’d like to do with my life now and it all involves helping animals and people.

It feels so rad to feel something. I’ll still have bad days but this moment, this last week, has been amazing.

I’m a bunny loving hippie

In the last year I’ve become a bit of a hippie. I still shower though, don’t worry.

My boyfriend had been vegan for 7 years when I met him. We agreed that if he stopped smoking (which he had been doing for 14 years) that I would go vegan. Granted I was shitfaced when I made this deal so there was a lot of struggle on my part to hold up my end.

When we moved in together it was agreed that it would be a vegan household. So I became vegan…ish for a good 7 months. I still ate dairy if we were at a restaurant and definitely slipped up and ate meat  while I was away from the boy.

Fast forward to now…the boyfriend decided to eat some dairy and fish (mostly due to my sushi obsession). I have now fully stopped eating meat other than fish. I know that this is not a cruelty free diet but for someone that used to crave cheeseburgers on a daily basis, it’s huge for me. I have no desire to eat beef or pork ever again. I feel too upset by the thought of what I would actually be eating. And while fried chicken is delicious, I don’t think I could kill a chicken, so therefore I should not eat one.

See, such a hippie.

Being with the boyfriend has made it impossible for me to blindly plow ahead in life with my eyes closed to how my actions don’t match up with my morals. He’s a huge animal/environmental rights guy. I have always loved animals with a fierceness that I rarely bestow on humans. Yet I was eating them, wearing them and using products that tested on them. What a load of bullshit.

In my slow going process to be more aware, I have been making sure that I research the cosmetics that I buy to make sure that there is NO animal testing involved.

Most of us have huge make-up cases full of cosmetics that we adore and that we’ve never thought twice about purchasing. We would also be disgusted to hear about the gut churning tests that are being done on animals so that can have those cosmetics. I’m not going to go into gory details here because I don’t believe in shoving information in people’s faces. There are plenty of websites that will give you the rundown of exactly what’s happening. It happens whether you read up on it or not, so I suggest looking into it. Yeah it’s uncomfortable and easier to not know the details but suck it up.

Feel like you want to be more aware and make some changes? Then I give you the challenge that I have given myself:

-Go into your bathroom and look at all your products. Do they have the little cruelty free bunny on the bottle? No? Go look up that company and whoever owns that company and see if they test on animals.

-If you find that you have a lot of products with no bunny on the back, use them cuz you already bought them and there’s no need to be wasteful.

-But then next time you go out for shampoo, moisturizer or make-up, go armed with a list of companies that are cruelty free. Need help? Try one of these sites to guide you.

My Make-up Mirror

Peta

Leaping Bunny

If you want to know if a specific product that you love is cruelty free, just type into Google and ask. Leaping Bunny talks about how just because the bunny may be on the bottle, that doesn’t always mean it’s safe so do your research and do it well. More and more products are available that are safe, even at Target and Sephora. You don’t have to go to all natural stores.

It’s a slow transition to make. There’s always more that we could be doing. I know I shouldn’t be eating dairy or using products that have any animal products. But it’s a transition. To stop everything at once would be overwhelming. Even changing one thing is good. If everything changed one thing, it would be huge.

So all you animal lovers, put your money where your mouth is and be aware of who you’re buying from and what you’re putting on your face. It feels good and it’s great karma.

See..such a fucking hippie.

PS…wanna get really freaked out? Go watch this two minute cartoon on the toxic chemicals in our products and how we can help change it!

Safe Cosmetics!

Okay, okay….

Last night at dinner with friends I got a wee bit of shit for never writing here anymore. Granted I was two drinks in, as was everyone else, so the exact comments are fuzzy.

I think it boils down to…drunk people who love me still think I have shit to say. Or people are just drunk.

There are certainly times when I have something to say but then I get busy. By busy I mean I drink a bottle of wine and watch a Mila Kunis movie instead. Or do what I’m doing currently, nursing a hangover from last night, halfway watching an episode of True Life (My Parents Are Cutting Me Off! Fucking first world problems….) and halfway trying to pull a blog out of my ass.

I’ve got a few entries flopping around in my head but I suppose first I should let you all know what I’ve been doing. And yes, by you all I basically mean Anja since she’s the only one who reads this shit who doesn’t have a Facebook page so therefore doesn’t read my stupid status updates every day. So…Hi Anja, you’re lovely and I miss you. Here’s what I’ve been up to:

-We bought a truck. A big one.

I’m learning to drive stick again after years of automatic cars. It’s like riding a bike. Except for hills. I’m driving all around town in order to avoid stoplights on hills. It’s also odd driving something this freakin’ big. I’m almost positive I side swiped an old lady or a child while coming out of a driveway today.

-We’ve been being more social than normal which is totally fucking with my head as far as the moving process goes.  I was going to post some social pictures but I’m too lazy.

-I’ve been working on music ( I use that term very, very loosely) due to the awesome gift of a kick ass professional music program for my computer. I was having trouble getting inspired for a while seeing as The Boyfriend doesn’t make me miserable enough for angst ridden songs and I’ve never been very good at happy love songs. Then someone went and pissed me off to a point that I was able to write a pretty dang good fuck you song. It keeps getting stuck in my head so that must be a good sign. Working with all the beats is a great way for me to feel productive even if I don’t leave the house.

-I’ve gotten back into therapy. I only mention this because I’ve been pretty open about getting on medication, how I had to go about getting it and how it has made me feel. The numbness comes and goes. So much of it has to do with how much I’m accomplishing or how much I’m allowing myself to invest in life here. Therapy has been awesome because the chick that I’m seeing refuses to let me get away with shit. She’s also helped me be more calm, more rational and more able to keep my energy and emotions away from people that I don’t need to be putting them into. That feeling helps a tremendous amount at work as well as in my personal life.

I really have nothing else exciting to report. Just cooking, baking, drinking, fucking, working, playing and any other action word you can think of. Life is good.

Now I’ll go write something funny!

Quest for PDX video blog: part 1!

Hey guys!

I decided to video blog about our quest to leave San Diego for Portland. Apparently I have too much time on my hands. I’ve decided my next video is going to have to be done while drunk. No matter what.

xoxo-Sweetbird

 

Lessons in Bad Assery: Part 1

Hot on the heels of this business, I remembered that a few months back I interviewed my friend Amanda because she’s kinda like my personal Jesus. I asked her a bunch of questions about not taking shit. To me she seems to be the master of being a bad ass, being positive and bringing amazing things into her life. What better way to get the taste of Titty McGee out of our mouths than with an intelligent lady who knows there is more to life than being purdy.

The Art of Not Taking Shit

1. First off, Seth told me a story in which you were having an argument with a girl and told her “This is your window of opportunity to apologize,” while holding up your open hand and then curling your hand into a fist, “And it’s closing.” Is this a true story or one greatly embellished by my beloved but prone to exaggeration beau? If it is true, what advice can you give to women who want to be as on the spot witty as you are?Firstly–Yeah, Seth can exaggerate quite a bit BUT, this story is spot-on. This little dolled up hussy had stolen a friend’s cell phone and was later found out by bragging to a dude (the friend’s friend) about how awesome it was that she had stolen the phone. Luckily, the guy realized it was his friends phone and sacrificed his blowie of the night to get the phone back and put this chick in her place. NOT COOL. I mean, if you’re gonna steal someone else’s things that’s one thing–and something I cannot get down with, not even a little–then alright, I guess you’re gonna be a dirty thief, but COME ON don’t go running around telling dudes about it like you’re some total hot shot–you’re just an a-moral whore who doesn’t know how to have an interesting conversation. I try my hardest to not pass judgement, but everything I’d heard about this chickadee pissed me off. We had been drinking some whiskey and I was feeling fiesty, so I think that’s part of the reason why I felt empowered to act the way that I did. Also, in my eyes, my friend deserved an apology, the whore disagreed, and I felt justified in letting her know exactly how much I disagreed with her. 

As far as giving witty comebacks: Number 1: Be witty. (In my opinion wit is just a side-effect of intelligence and being good-natured and quick thinking. Ya got it or ya don’t–either is ok. If you’re not witty though, you probably shouldn’t try to be.) Number 2: Say what you think. Quickly and concisely. You can’t pussy foot around if you’re in a confrontation. (Ya also got to mean what say–an empty comeback or threat is pretty pointless and will most likely end in you looking like a jackass somehow.) 

 If a man does not text you for three days after a date, what is your response?

Well that depends.

If the date was awesome and I really like the guy I would definitely call him. This for me has gone two ways: he’s a total jackass and takes on the “umm, hello obviously I would have called if I was interested” act or the response is “oh totally, I just figured we’d go out again this next weekend” i.e.: boy brain. In either instance–if a dude is into you, he ought to be letting you know that sooner than 3 days. In my experience–these guys don’t work out and generally aren’t worth the trouble. To me all this “waiting 3 days” game playing bullshit is for children, and i prefer to date men, not boys. But ya know, I also hate chicks who completely rely on dudes to do the communicating. If you had a great time on a date and want to see a guy again, it doesn’t hurt to let him know that. Fuck these antiquated gender roles–if you know what you want, go and get it.  In my book–my game, as it were–it boils down to fear of rejection and insecurities. And I’m trying to rid my life of both of these things. Sometimes when you put yourself out there you get rejected–its just a part of life. And better be rejected straight outta the gate when there are minimal emotions involved that a few months down the line–ya know what i’m saying? I guess when you meet the right guy, communication just comes naturally and there is no need to fret over these things. If its not right, the communication is bound to be all wonky.

 If a man tells you he’s not ready for a relationship, does that mean he’s really not ready or he just doesn’t want to date you?

Who knows why a guy says that, I’m sure there are lots of reasons. If I’ve ever actually cared to know why, I ask! My personal thinking is that there is no point in trying to convince someone to be with me–I tried it when I was younger and it never works out well. And I do believe that a good relationship takes work, but some things need to just happen naturally and effortlessly–especially when its fresh and new. No use in forcing things!

 If after several years of dating, your boyfriend cheats on you, what is the appropriately bad ass response?

I guess the bad-ass thing to do would be to go out and fuck the shit outta a mega-babe, right? But the real deal response would be to ask myself if the relationship was worth saving and if he was worth the time and energy to work through it all. And then, if it turns out he’s not worth it–definitely go out and shmang a babe. 

 If you hate your job/the city you live in/your relationship…yada yada…what would you suggest as the first step to change these things? 

I’m a mixture of logical and impulsive. And I guess that I see a lot of logic in knowing that things always work out, and not stressing too hard on anything.  SO when I want to change something, I change it. I recently quit my job and went on a cross country road trip, unemployed and slowly burning through my “savings.” And you know what, I was so happy knowing that I no longer had to work a job that I knew was crushing my soul and making it really hard for me to be happy that I never once wondered how I was gonna pay my rent or bills. And ya know what happened? I landed a sa-weet, high paying job that is not ideal but that is floating me until i figure out what it is that I really want to do with my life. So yeah–I don’t take baby-steps or plan or anything, I just go for it and see what happens. Whats the worse that could happen? ( I think I just realized that I in fact am not at all logical? )

If a man talks down to you/verbally abuses/calls you name…what would you do?

I was in a very verbally abusive relationship when I was younger. And I also had really low self-esteem to begin with. I totally went along with it, which is so sad to think about. I’ve grown in to a woman that doesn’t buy it. I had a guy start being abusive and saying really shitty things to me just a few years ago. Ya know what worked? Turning it around–I asked him why the fuck he was with me then if I was so terrible and worthless. It worked, too–in the sense that he ended up roughing me up, I started a small fire in his apartment and he threw some of my stuff out of his second story window. And we were broken up. And I realize know that I dodged a huge bullet. No relationship–friendship or intimate–is deserving of abuse. 

 If you have a girlfriend who you know repeatedly talks shit about you behind your back but is lovely to your face, would you confront her?

This just happened to me recently. And I subtly called her out on it. I told her that I had heard a lot of negative and untrue things about me, all coming from this crowd of kids she had just started hanging out with (cats I used to be pretty close with, no less). And what do you know, I stopped hearing from her. It was more passive-aggressive than I’d like. If I could get a “do-over” I think I would just point blank ask her “Why are you disrespecting me?” I still would like to hear why exactly she felt the need to talk shit behind my back and then try to be super friendly to me–what a miserable existence. I feel like any girl that does this shit must get her self caught up in a lot of drama and lies, and have very few if any genuine and meaningful relationships.

 What’s the best advice you can give to a girl who is feeling like her self worth is based off of what others (especially men) think of her? 

My advice? “FUCK THAT” A lot of my friends give me shit for being a hippie or being cliche, but seriously, I can’t stress it enough: If you don’t love and respect yourself, no one else will either. I think a lot of ladies need to start acting/dressing/talking/getting involved in things that they like and are interested in. I’ve seen so many of my girl friends shape themselves into what they think other people (especially dudes) want out of them. I’ve also seen so many of my guy friends walk all over these women and treat them like shit. Figure out what it is that YOU want from YOU and the rest will fall into place! (There will be haters along the way, there always are–fuck em! Haters gon’ hate no matter what!)

See, told you she was a bad ass! And also that last part reminded me of one of my favorite Kat Williams jokes…

Oh and she’s adorable…

Gossip, bleh. New curtains? FUCK YEAh!

Uh oh, Ambien.

Though this post has been brewing in me for some time I haven’t had the time or the energy to write it out. The joy of Ambien is the creative spurt it gives me just before it knocks me on my ass into a blissful sleep that does not actually rest my body at all. I wake up feeling groggy. But  it’s better than staring at the ceiling for hours on end or getting out of bed and watching episodes of Dance Moms.

Sidetracked….I got all into searching for a clip that properly highlights the sequined child abuse that airs on that show. Done. Terrified? Yup, me too.

Okay, so…Being here and in this healthy relationship where I’m not shrieking and crying or doing some shady flirting on the side has made me realize that I have little to say about men anymore. That’s great right? Yeaaaaah…kinda.

Whenever the BF and I have a blow out, I generally call my dad and talk it through with him. The folks love him and they have no problem telling me that I’m an asshole and they also won’t judge him if he’s the one being the asshole. Occasionally when I’m super troubled I’ll chat it out with my girlfriends. But girlfriends tend to remember the nasty shit you tell them and their impression of your manfriend can be forever altered.

Point being, Ambiensnatch, well the point has very little to do with the above paragraphs. Fucking drugs.

The point of sitting down to write this at all is that I’ve come to realize how so much of what lady friends talk about and center their activities around is men, men, men. When we’re single, we hunt, we flirt, we primp and preen. We plot, dissect, rehash, over analyze and advise each other. We tirelessly carry on about boys. When I was single that’s really all I ever did.

OBVIOUSLY, since this blog started as a chronicle of my dating life in Portland.

I would never get anything useful done because I was always busy fucking some lame ass or plotting to fuck some lame ass or making an ass of myself in front of some lame ass.

That’s a lot of ass. 

I had to be driving a lot of my friends absolutely batshit. It had to be massively irritating. It was fun for me, no doubt. Well okay, terribly depressing but also at times, pants wettingly fun. But I was obsessive.

My point keeps slipping away like a water weenie.

The fucking point is that I have little to say to single friends at this point.

I understand why couples want to hang with other couples. I understand why single people complain that their married friends fall off the radar. I can’t relate to single girl drama anymore. I have no boy gossip and while I will listen to boy gossip, I can’t be as blase about the poor decisions friends make since I’m no longer in their shoes. It pains me to see that obsessive boy behavior that I have exhibited for the vast majority of my life.

Plus, shit…I’m in my 30s. I want to buy a house. I will gleefully paint and decorate and pick out fixtures with the BF while my 15 year old self stands with her mouth open in silent terror at my terrible normalcy. I remember saying to my mother once that if new dishes were the best part of my week to shoot me.

Well guess what? I really like my fucking dishes. Take that 15 year old twatty me. I’m sure my mom laughed her ass off at me behind closed doors.

There will still be benders, dance club nights, girl rages and hangovers galore. But there will also be stability, calm, love and new curtains. 

I’m so very at peace with that. I’m excited to see who I will become once I fully understand that this love shit is solid right now so I can put my attention elsewhere.

This Ambien has done nothing for me. I’m still typing like a champ. I should be babbling about Rick James controlling my mind with a cocaine blanket or some shit. But nope. Pretty coherent. Gonna go read the rest of Russell Brand’s mostly shitty second book. The man’s vocabulary is so broad that it’s borderline offensive.

Fuck You, Passat

Fuck You, Passat

While out running errands I was almost smashed into by a cockbag in a shiny new Passat who didn’t feel like stopping for his red light. I then watched him weave through traffic, cutting people off and racing through 30 mph zones at 45 mph. (There happened to be a speed checker thing on that street.)

The abundance of idiocy on the San Diego freeways is mind boggling. Driving around town isn’t much better but at least collisions happened at a lower speed. It’s to the point where I’ve decided fuck having a car when we move. I never want to see another freeway with a douchecan going 95 in his suburban again.

Alas, I’m here and driving is an unavoidable every day occurrence. So my new plan is to get a bunch of bumper stickers made that I can keep in my glove box. Then when jackasses almost barrel into me, I can subtly follow them to wherever they’re going, wait for them to go into the building and then sneak over like a revenge ninja and put a bumper sticker of my own choosing on their car.

Such as:

-Support your local KKK

-Gay For Pay

-Honk if you love pedophilia

-I have a tiny penis

-My vagina is a festering wound!

-I slaughter kittens

-Hitler was right

-Jesus sucks dick

-I <3 beastiality

-Beat Your Kids

-Polygamist and proud!

-Death to all dolphins

-Fuck endangered species. I kill what I want!

-Euthanize over 65

-Fuck jews

-I brake for underaged pussy

-World peace is for fucking pussies

-I <3 fecal play

-No means Yes, so get undressed

-Skullfucker 4 life

Then hopefully, these shitburgers will drive around with that bumper sticker on for a while. When they do finally notice it not only will it piss them off and embarrass the shit out of them, they’ll have to scrape that thing off their bumper.

Wheeeeeeeee!!!!

You and your tits are better than that

The other day a girl came into my work to get her brows done. She looked pretty much exactly like this:

Except she had her hair pulled back and was wearing a halter top with leggings and platform heels. Her tits were INSANE in a way that that can’t really be described as attractive. My receptionist said they looked painful. She was a really, really pretty girl. Gorgeous eyes, delicate elfin features. A beautiful girl. A girl who had spray tanned herself brown, coated her eyes in so much mascara that they look like furry spider legs and had gotten an intensely large boob job.

I am fine with all that. If it makes you happy, get it, girl.

But then we started talking.

“Before you start I just want to ask if it’s okay to wax after you get Botox.”

“How long ago was it?”

“A week ago.”

“That’s fine, as long as it wasn’t today”

At this point I pause to look down at the placid lake that is her forehead. Smooth, serene, not a ripple or wrinkle to speak of. Not even a whisper of one.

“Girl…your forehead is flawless. And how old are you anyway??”

“I’m 22. I had this deep frown line between my bros and my boyfriend told me I needed to fix it.”

I stare down at the point in question and can’t make out even a faint hint of a line. Botox does not magically *poof* erase your lines. It takes a while to work since it’s paralyzing your muscles. Your muscles need to not be moving for a while in order for the wrinkle to lessen. Couple that with the fact that deep wrinkles can’t be fixed by Botox. A filler would have to be injected into the  crease and then Botox would be used to ensure you wouldn’t re-wrinkle the recently filled line.

The point? Girl never had a fucking wrinkle there to start with. If she did it was only there when she frowned. But her boyfriend hounded her about it enough that she went off to the doctor and had herself injected.

Okay….not good.

But it got worse. Talk turned to men and relationships.

“He’s been trying to get me to swing with him lately. And like, I dunno. I’m fun as fuck in bed and I’m really freaky but I just figure that no matter what he’s gonna get bored and cheat on me…so I might as well go along with this and try it out.”

Here’s me :

I couldn’t think of what to say for a good 30 seconds. So she carried on….

“We’re going to Vegas this weekend and we’re gonna go like, hunt for girls to take home. And you know, I’ll try it and see if I like it I guess. Men are just gonna cheat anyway, you know? So….”

“Um, babe, there are plenty of men out there that wouldn’t cheat on you, ever. That would look at you like you’re the only girl in the room at all times.”

“Yeah…I know. Maybe I should leave him.”

“Do you love him?”

She laughes.

“I don’t know, I mean, not really. I could use someone new.”

My face:

Her face: 

My job is bringing out this mama lion in me that I NEVER knew was in there. Between girls like her, 13 year olds getting brazilians, 20 year olds dating men in their forties and high school girls with boyfriends who complain when the girl has any pubic hair at all…..UGH.

It’s not that I want to tell these girls that they shouldn’t have sex. I know that they’re going to have sex and they’re going to do it younger and younger. These girls are just exaggerated versions of what my friends and I were. More well groomed, more developed, working faster and going down harder. We all did what they did…with less polish…with less maturity.

What’s scaring me about these girls is how completely confident they are. They just don’t give a fuck. At all. It’s terrifying.

I wanted to grab Titty McTits, stare into her overly make up eyes and scream at her,

“You’re worth more than this! You’re better than this!”

I want to help these girls learn the hard lessons about being female and what sexuality means and learn them way sooner than I did. But I realize that as a 31 year old woman I am incredibly OLD to these girls. Go ahead, ask a 17 year old what old is, they’ll say 30. No teenage girl wants to listen to an adult. Because this is the point when they are convinced that we’re prude squares who don’t know shit.

And to some extent, that’s true. I am a prude square in comparison to these girls.

But I have a system for these girls now. I always take off my sweater so they see my tattoos. I call them “girl” and make them laugh by making silly comments about boys. I ask about their dating lives and I don’t shoot down what they tell me. I gain their trust (moderately easy to do while touching someone’s vagina) and when they come in again, I slip a few words of wisdom into the joking. Just a sentence or two about how their boyfriend should be treating them. A comment here and there to let them know that that they’re worth more than what they’re giving themselves credit for. I never tell them to not do something. I tell them to be safe. To not take shit.

An ex-stripper who never went to college is not someone who you’d want giving your kid life advice. But maybe that’s what makes me the perfect person to do it. I know how important it is to cultivate intelligence not just beauty. I understand how powerful sexuality is and how addictive it can be to use it. And god damn, I know men. I know the motherfucking shit out of men.

While this has been a truly terrifying experience…knowing what trouble young girls are in, knowing that there is no childhood anymore. It has also brought out something in me I didn’t think was there. A nurturing instinct. A desire to help. When I finally stop waxin’ vag, or even if I’m still doing it, I want to volunteer to help at risk youth. I could have used some help when I was a teen. Middle class white girl or not, bad decisions don’t know class or race. We’re all equal there.

This shit turned serious, dammit!!!! WTF?