Category: women stuff
Only Women Bleed
| April 6, 2013 | Posted by Laura Brown under Female Body, women stuff |
It’s almost 11:00 at night and I’ve just sat down here again after changing my maxi pad and brewing a fresh cup of coffee. I put on the Galaxie Flashback 70′s channel on TV and the song on right then is: Only Women Bleed – Alice Cooper. Life is weird and ironic and short tempered at times. Or is that just me?
Do you think about all these things too? Why do women bleed? Why were females the ones picked to bleed each month, carry eggs around and then one day it all ends. Not just slipping away. No, it didn’t start that easily, why not leave the way a man would – lots of noise and making sure everyone is more than just mildly aware of his leaving.
I think I have started menopause. I don’t really see the point in knowing for sure. Will it stop now that it’s been found out? Leave in peace? No, it will do to me whatever it wants to do to me. Just like life – the life of being a woman. We bleed.
How much easier life would be if we just carried around seed and sprayed it around? No monthly blood. No clean up. No pain and no having to plan your life around that time of the month. No mood swings and hormone adjustments. No need to be the weaker sex and look over your shoulder when you’re out at night. No need to carry around years of anger, hatred and injustice for something it took the pervert just a few minutes of time to forget.
I could hate men. It would not be a hardship on my part. My Dad was a jerk, but I can see him as a human being too. Still, who tells their daughter she’s ugly and no one will ever want her? What kind of man preys on children (his own child) that way? But, human, remember? So, we make allowances. We understand. We have patience and we don’t want people to think we are mean or can’t get over it.
Is there a point to hating men? Not really. There are always going to be more of them. I do think about how life would be if we lived like Amazon women. A society where men are the ones who bleed, not literally. Would the Amazons actually give up that power, that choice, to men? Not likely. How could they be trusted with the power of giving life and keeping it? We can’t even trust them not to make us bleed.
No, I don’t hate men. You see, every now and then I find one I like and even respect and I wish him well.
Man’s got his woman to take his seed
He’s got the power – oh
She’s got the need
She spends her life through pleasing up her man
She feeds him dinner or anything she canShe cries alone at night too often
He smokes and drinks and don’t come home at all
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleedMan makes your hair gray
He’s your life’s mistake
All you’re really lookin’ for is an even breakHe lies right at you
You know you hate this game
He slaps you once in a while and you live and love in painShe cries alone at night too often
He smokes and drinks and don’t come home at all
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleedBlack eyes all of the time
Don’t spend a dime
Clean up this grime
And you there down on your knees begging me please come
Watch me bleedOnly women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
I Don’t Cut Myself for Fun
| January 26, 2013 | Posted by Laura Brown under women stuff |
I’m not sure why I do it.
There are people who cut themselves because they are into BDSM (masochism, the last letter of the short form). That’s not me. I don’t get a sexual buzz from it. It isn’t for pleasure, for me.
I found a few posts people have written about self-harm, self injury, self mutilation, cutting… some of the names it’s been given. They say people who have eating disorders are more likely to be mutilating themselves in some way too. Also, those who have had emotional abuse. You are more likely to start as a child, or a young teenager. I started then. I have photos where I was the only person wearing long sleeves and long pants. I look out of place but I wasn’t going to let anyone see my arms and comment on all the scabs, especially those I had recently pulled off again.
Does that ick you? I get an ick from sharp objects. I feel squeamish about knives and sharp things like needles. Just watching them on a TV show makes me cringe inside. What a weird thing to have a problem with sharp objects cutting into human skin when I’ve been doing it to myself for more than 30 years. Not that I use tools, I just use my fingernails. Maybe that’s why the sharp tools bother me.
I have no solutions and I offer no advice.
The Good Men Project: Understanding Self-Harm
Mirror, Mirror: Self Injury
Be Well Informed on the Seriousness of Self Harm
Self Harm: Part One, Part Two and Part Three
Freedom from Selfharm: Overcoming Self-Injury with Skills from DBT and Other Treatments
Price: $14.33
(7 customer reviews)
61 used & new available from $11.00
Inside a Cutter’s Mind: Understanding and Helping Those Who Self-Injure
Price: $11.88
(11 customer reviews)
84 used & new available from $4.72
Cutting: Understanding and Overcoming Self-Mutilation
Price: $12.16
(81 customer reviews)
171 used & new available from $1.98
A Bright Red Scream: Self-Mutilation and the Language of Pain
Price: $12.94
(68 customer reviews)
156 used & new available from $2.15
Women’s Magazines are Not Thriving
| March 25, 2012 | Posted by thatgrrl under women stuff, writing |
Aside from terrible cover lines, stories that underestimate the intelligence of their readers, and predictable fashion spreads that present an extremely narrow idea of female beauty, what’s wrong with today’s ladymags?
- Jezebel: Nobody is Buying Ladymags these Days
That about says it all really. Mainly, stories that have nothing real or unique. That’s why I seldom pick up any magazines now. I still feel a loyalty to the few Canadian magazines like (Canadian Living and Chatelaine) and, I admit, Martha Stewart’s magazine almost always gets me to at least pick it up from the grocery store aisle.
I used to buy the US women’s magazines too. The covers with great colours, decorating ideas and articles about how to improve so many things… but the articles are still the same, the covers are still great and tempting, but not tempting enough. The content inside just doesn’t have enough to offer. It’s very repetitive. Plus, what do they have that I can’t find online?
I don’t like seeing the end, or the troubles, for the glossy magazines. They used to have an elegance, a lustre for life. I don’t find that same feeling from many websites or blogs. You can’t pick up a blog at the grocery store, stick it in your purse and then have the treat of flipping through the pages later when you’ve got your coffee, maybe even a chocolate bar or something else kind of yummy and not really good for you.
If I Was A Prostitute
| July 2, 2011 | Posted by thatgrrl under Adult BackWash, women stuff, writing |
Originally posted to Adult BackWash: Tuesday May 25, 2004
The question of the night is… What am I doing here?
Me, the good girl. Yes, I know you’ve heard that before. But now add to that the daughter of the deceased. When is it ok to start writing erotica again after a death in the family? Do they have a Miss Manners Guide for bad girls? Or even for good girls who like to play with the bad girls? Or just my own personal Miss Manners Guide to my own personal life since no one else seems to be looking for the same polite rules of conduct I’m looking for. I’m an oddity. I’ve heard it before.
Gracie and Big Blonde have a past. They were (are) professional women. Not lawyers, doctors or that sort of thing. Though, who knows what they might start next week?!
But, me, I’m a dud. I know… here you thought I could teach your old dog a few new tricks and you read about my wicked ideas and had such high hopes. Let me crush those for you now. I could be a born again virgin. I think I will just give up on the whole thing. I’m getting too old. Besides, I am very well self taught when it comes to pleasing women, one woman anyway.
Is there some point when a man just gets in the way?
I think that must be the reverse of prostitution or being a hooker, whore, etc. I won’t even type the nastier ones. If you are being paid to please a man you can’t start off by thinking he is in the way, can you? Not very good customer service. Even I know that just as a cashier and I only have to count their change. If I prefer I don’t even have to physically touch them. I do prefer it that way actually. Do you know how gross some people really are, up close? ICK! It’s enough just taking their money.
If I was a prostitute I would make them all wear full body condoms. I don’t even want one curly little hair escaping. Yes, suffocation is a danger, but not for me! He can take the risk. If he really seems to be suffering I’ll poke an air hole somewhere. I’m not completely mean.
If I was a prostitute I would always be the Domme. No way could I submit to some guy I’ve just met. Most of them are drooling idiots anyway. How can you submit to someone you’re laughing at on the inside?
If I was a prostitute I would demand references from their last three lovers, up front. I don’t want someone fumbling around pretending they have a clue. If I have to show them where my clit is they might as well just play with themselves awhile and then get out. Would they know the difference? I think not.
But, I’m not a prostitute. I’m not about to become one though the money would come in handy. I don’t think I can become dettached enough. Plus it should all be about me, pleasing me, how good I feel, etc. If it becomes about pleasing some dickhead of a guy… that’s just gross. What’s in it for me? Me! Me! Me!
Maybe that’s the difference between a nice girl and a bad girl. Nice girls always finish last. If at all. No wonder I don’t fit in.
Now if only Martha would return my calls about the whole erotica writing/ good manners thing.
-
Give a man a free hand, and he’ll try to run it all over you. – Mae West
You Should Have Slapped Him
| April 29, 2011 | Posted by thatgrrl under Adult BackWash, women stuff |
Originally posted to Adult BackWash: Monday January 26, 2004
You should have slapped him, you should have smacked him, you should have…. It’s circling round and round in my mind like water going down the drain. I can hear it gurgle.
What would you do if a man kissed you and you didn’t want it? You can’t give a kiss back. Though it would be interesting to come up with the correct polite protocol. Returning kisses is usually something quite different and much more romantic and desirable.
In my case I didn’t bitch slap him. But, I think (and I have been thinking about it) that I did just right. Maybe not perfectly right but I did fine. I was uncomfortable and yet curious too. I’m not someone who gets picked up by men, I seldom get noticed in fact. The whole thing was like being offered a chance to live someone else’s life for a short time. It was interesting, it’s still interesting.
I didn’t ask to be picked up. I didn’t do anything to encourage him other than sit and talk. I did ask for him to stop when he began kissing me. I did give him a push away. But I did not put myself at risk by doing something as stupid as slapping a man I don’t know and can’t predict. I was alone in the parking lot, there was no one else around. I don’t even know anyone in that town. My closest family and friends are a two hour drive away.
In my life I’ve been hit by two men. However, I have never hit a man. I can’t think of anyone I’ve hit but for the time I spanked my nephew when he terrified me by running out into traffic.
The experience of being hit by a man is alarming and terribly frightening. His face gets ugly, like a nightmare mask. His eyes bug out, his voice rises and he grabs your body as if it were a cat’s chew toy. You have no control at that point. You just wait for it to be over so you can pick up your pieces and leave while he’s not ranting.
So, for those who think I should have slapped him (and there were a few of you) I think you need to watch less TV. It’s all fine to go around hitting and slapping people when you’re following a script but in real life things are different. I don’t intend to become violent or have someone else become violent with my person. It’s not fun and it’s not sexy. Really, it’s a hell of an experience.
I don’t think I should have slapped him. I’m really glad that I kept my head and drove myself away. I watched in my rearview mirror all the way home in case he had followed me. One good thing about having such a long drive was that I was sure I was alone by the time I got off the first big road.
Perfect Boobs
| April 19, 2011 | Posted by thatgrrl under Adult BackWash, Female Body, women stuff |
Originally posted to Adult BackWash: Wednesday May 05, 2004
I didn’t know I have perfect boobs. Now that I know, I’m seriously impressed with myself. I never thought those two roundish lumps could be considered perfect. I’ve always had a fondness for them. I could even go so far as to say I’m… proud of them. They’re not bad as, two roundish lumps stuck to the front of my body, go.
But, to hear they are perfect. Well, that kind of blows my mind. Perfect! Perfect covers a lot of ground.
Perfect is in the eye of the beholder and the hands of the beholder too for that matter. So if he thinks I have perfect boobs, more power to me. More of other things to him but we’ll get to that later, much later. Probably long after your bedtime.
So, now I’m sitting pretty. Perfect boobs protruding just a bit more than usual.
It is kind of odd being a woman, having two appendages sticking out in front of you. Can’t ignore them. Kind of rude looking I sometimes think. As a high school girl I would just give in to the inevitable and rest my boobs on the desk. It hit at just that level. What else could you do? No one could sit that straight in those hard ass chairs all day. So, boobs ended up sitting on my desk. Maybe that is the secret of my perfect boobs, allowing them their place in the halls of learning.
I also think it’s good that I don’t always restrain them into boob traps, boulder holders, bras, etc. Let them have a little freedom to bob, bounce and sway. Boobs like to get out a bit, see the world and have some fun. Grrls just want to have fun! All the girls. I think it’s cute how some women call them “the girls”. I don’t do it myself. Maybe it’s just that bit too cute for me.
Anyway, me and my perfect boobs are about to hit the shower and get to bed tonight. Boobs are easy to wash. Just soap them up, rub around the nipples, under and around the breast and rinse. Other areas are more complicated, involve more steps and less modesty.
Good night. Sweaty dreams.
