Method of Conception - F U Paul Ryan

Paul Ryan is an idiot.  He’s not the only idiot but he’s a big one.  As we are being bombarded by foolery about rape, incest, conception, and abortion, we get another bit of nonsense from Paul Ryan, the man who may well become the VP of the United States of America.

In an interview (I don’t know who the interview was with but I did hear this with my own two ears), Paul Ryan was asked about abortion.  He stated that he, in fact, was a strong pro-lifer.  Blah, blah, blah.  Interviewer asked if a woman should be required to have the child conceived during a rape and this jackass said something like “rape, or any other method of conception….”  Huh?  ‘Scuze me, sir.  Did you just equate rape with a “method of conception”?  No, really?  Do you think RAPE – a complete mental and physical violation of a woman with long-lasting mental, physical, and emotional impacts – is a “method of conception”? 

Do you REALLY think that RAPE – an act where a woman is taken against her will and forced to perform sexual acts with someone she either does not want to perform these acts with or does not want to perform these acts with at the time – is a “method of conception”? 

Do you SERIOUSLY think that RAPE – where a woman may be beaten, tied up, and gagged, have her body torn from the inside, and that just be her physical scars, for a man to assert his power – is a “method of conception”?

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me if you believe that RAPE – an act where a woman is made to feel powerless, vulnerable, abused, small, unworthy of respect and decency; an act that causes her to question her complicity – did I lead him on? Was my skirt too short? Did I make too much eye contact?  Was I too dismissive? – You believe that THIS act is a “method of conception”?

I’ve never been raped, praise God, but I have enough sense to know that there is nothing “method of conception” about it.  SEX is a “method of conception”.  Preferably loving sex, sex that is intentional in the creation of a life, in conception.  But RAPE is not about SEX.  It is about power.  It is about control.  It is about hatred.  If a rape victim does not get help she becomes infected with the hatred that her attacker carried.

If I wasn’t a Christian woman I would wish that someone would “method of conception” Paul Ryan but karma is a bitch and I have too much going on in my life right now to let more bullshit flow into it because I was acting like the devil.  But I will say this, in some unladylike language: Fuck you Paul Ryan.  Fuck you and your monkey.  Fuck you from every woman that has ever been violated.  Fuck you from every woman that knows a woman that has been violated.  Fuck you from every woman that is vulnerable (that’s all of us, you jackass).  Fuck you from every man that has had to love a violated woman back to mental and emotional health.  Fuck you from every man that has had to suffer the consequences of another man’s crime.  Matter of fact, just fuck you, period.  And the horse you rode in on.

Sex Made Me Ugly

Sex made me ugly.  Really.  It really made me ugly.  How, you might ask?  Well, here is the story.

I have had many droughts in my life.  Times when I haven’t dated anybody, much less slept with anybody.  (Lawd, I’m so glad my daddy doesn’t know I write this blog!)  2010, and maybe even some of 2009, was such a time of remarkable dryness so I decided I would not take birth control pills because of my migraines.  (Estrogen drops cause migraines.)  Well, I met somebody…and I wanted to get a little bit.  So I had to get back on the pill and change my hormonal make-up again.  No big deal, right?  Wrong.

My face broke out so bad I looked like I was 13 again.  My jaw line looked like I had a beard of pimples.  And when the pimples went away (for a minute and a half…because they came back…and back) they left black spots.  Not “hyper pigmentation”. 101 Dalmatian spots.  On my forehead too.  I looked like a damn leopard. 

And then that joker broke up with me.  Left me heartbroken and UGLY as shit. 

This was early 2011 and I’m still fighting with this acne and these fucking leopard spots.

I got a facial a few weeks ago and was informed by the esthetician that our face was basically a map of our body.  The forehead showed what was going on in our bowels.  (If we had acne our bowels were not clear; we were constipated.  There is truth there but I won’t go into my tummy troubles.)  The jaw line and chin showed what was going on with our hormones.  I thought back.  Got dammit!  It was those fucking birth control pills I started taking to get some from my boo in 2010 that caused all these cursed problems.  Made me ugly as shit.  Cost me about $1000 in chemical peels, foundation, concealer, prescriptions, and facial products to try to fix…and I’m still not “fixed”.

So now you know how sex made me ugly.  If I would have said no to giving up the booty I wouldn’t be so ugly or broke.

One Is The Loneliest Number

I’m in a weird place.  I’ve been alone for a long time but right now I am actually lonely.

Isn’t that a sad word?  Lonely is a word that makes me think of someone completely alone, with no one in her life.  Completely alone, with no one to call in good times or bad.  Completely alone, with no one to visit or invite over.  I’m not completely alone but I do sometimes feel like I am imposing when I call unless it is great news, being mindful of family time and children’s bedtimes, or feeling funny when I want to visit but haven’t been invited over.  I feel like I’m in the way and I worry about overstaying my welcome.  (To be fair, that is my own issue because I don’t like it when people come to my house without calling first so I would never do that to anybody else AND I have open invitations to folks’ homes that I most like to visit.  I just don’t exercise the option.)

I feel like I’m the only person without someone in their lives.  Of course that is being dramatic because, although I have no one romantically, I am surrounded by friends and associates.  I want someone in my life romantically and I want a family.  I don’t want to be the odd-man-out.  And I often (more often than not, honestly) feel like the odd-man-out.  Like one of these kids is doing his own thing…and that kid is me.  I feel unattached, that I have to stretch real hard to reach out to touch someone who might be able to grasp my hand in a time when I’m in need of support.  Even those people who are more than willing and able to be there as strong support for me. 

People don’t understand why I don’t like to do long distance relationships but I need access to the man I’m dating.  I need a hand to hold, a chest to lay on, a literal shoulder to lean on, a smile to see…on a random Tuesday.  On a bad day.  On the day I get a promotion.  On the day I have a fight with a friend.  On a day when my legs are on fire from spin class and I need to be rubbed the right way.  (Sorry I just heard a little Johnny Gill this afternoon.)  I needed that hand, chest, shoulder, smile, and rub this week when it was revealed to me that someone I thought was a friend – a good friend – actually wished me GONE from our joint space.  And I feel very vulnerable right now and I need some validation and confirmation that it is okay to feel hurt but that I am okay.

I’m questioning myself in a lot of ways right now.  Questioning my motives for moves that I am considering and things I am avoiding.  Moves like actually picking up and moving from Atlanta…and I’ve been here for most of 21 years…and I’m deathly afraid of change.  Not sure if I want to leave my company because of personal dynamics and the fact that I no longer feel emotionally safe or if I am just ready to make a career change after 14 years.  Not sure if I want to move back to my hometown because at least I will have family around or if I really think it is a place I can be happy and successful and thrive.  I will be the odd-man-out and unattached in a way there too but I can move around enough to avoid being sad…I think…I hope.  At least I know I can trust my family to have my back and I wouldn’t feel funny going to my Daddy’s house when I felt like looking at him.  And I’d be close to Mama…and I have a key to her house so… LOL!!  Have been thinking about adopting a baby but not sure I want to be a single mother.  No, I KNOW I don’t want to be a single mother, but I’m wondering if this is on my mind lately because I want to have someone in my life so I’d no longer be lonely.  Someone that is MINE.  (If that is not selfish I don’t know what is.)

I’m rambling but that is how my mind is going.  Random and rambling.  That’s why I haven’t posted in a while.  My mind is jumbled.  And yes, I have been taking my meds.