Posted in Almost Dorothy, Culture Clash

“National Penis Day”

Penis Graffiti | Granada, Spain | Photo by Neil de la Flor

Ma says she loves Poya Linda. I ask her why she loves Linda and ma says she doesn’t love Linda. She says she loves Poya Linda. I think ma is a lesbian and is in love with Linda but that’s on the other side of the point. Ma looks at me like I’m a jerk for talking smack about Linda. I’m eating baked beans with my mouth open while ma explains what Poya Linda means in English. I almost have an aneurysm. Beautiful Penis, she says, is Poya Linda. I tell ma a beautiful penis is an oxymoron just like she is an ox and a moron.

National Penis Day | Japan

I look up Poya Linda on the internet, just to confirm ma’s theory of penises, and discover that the citizens of Komaki, Japan are celebrating “National Penis Day”. Actually, Maureen Seaton sent me the link yesterday and she is kind of like the internet but she is real real and not like the internet at all except when she sends ma and I links about penises.

National Penis Day | Japan

Ma and I celebrated “National Penis Day” in Miami. We didn’t wear our penis glasses. Instead we showed off our pride and stuff, which means we showed our proud penises to neighbors and pedestrians. They said hurrah and oh my god. The guy who lives four houses down called the cops because he said he’s religious, which leads me to the crucifix penis.

Crucifix Penis | National Penis Day | Japan

Ma says that when she had a penis she felt like she was carrying a giant crucifix between her Netherlands. Ma doesn’t have a penis, at least not anymore, but she showed the neighbors a picture of her penis when she had a penis. It looked like a real penis. That  photograph was taken way back when before I was conceived or born or brought to life. Back when ma was a boy with two balls and such. I’m not exactly sure how I was made, or if I exist in this or that space-time condominium, but I have a new appreciation for penises that I never knew I had before.

National Penis Day | Japan

Ma says everything is big and better in Japan. Just look at the smile on their faces, she says. If only we appreciated the dicks we have, instead of the dicks that we are, this country would be much a happier space. Ma is generally brilliant when she reminisces about penises and about the past she lived before she became my mother during a time period in which the Heisenberg uncertainty principle was the only principle she was certain of.

Posted in Almost Dorothy, Culture Clash

Almost Dorothy (Almost) Celebrates National Eating Disorders Awareness Week

 

National Eating Disorders Awareness Week

Ma says she has a problem celebrating a week that causes so much pain and suffering in the world. She says we should not celebrate National Eating Disorders Awareness Week because we should embrace it and those who are suffering through it. Ma says it shouldn’t be called a disorder because it makes those who suffer feel disordered. She says it’s a social disease that infects all of us, impacts all of us, even if we don’t think it does.

Ma also says unless we proudly include and embrace men who have eating disorders and all the men who do not have eating disorders in this campaign of awareness, we won’t resolve anything, especially not the perfect setting for toast. (Ma often loses focus.) Ma says it is our male-dominated culture that perpetuates the beauty myth, the myth of bubbles, because men are visual creatures and they measure their value  from the outside in. Beauty becomes a thing we can see and touch. A thing that is attached to a body. Becomes the body. And is expressed through the words I love you.

…what you look like…what you represent…what your body says about me when they look at us in public.

Provocative, ma says, yes! But it’s true.

FYI #1: Ma says she would have never gotten two boobs if it wasn’t for her first boyfriend. Wouldn’t have laser-removed her body hair if it wasn’t for her second boyfriend. And wouldn’t have removed her penis if it wasn’t for her third boyfriend. (Re-read, please.)

Ma says true awareness means closing your eyes. True awareness means swallowing the stars from the night sky and looking at true black hanging out behind the full full moonshine. Ma says illumination is the opposite of light. Ma says we have to undress the audience, bring them into the flashlight, and smack them on the ass with whips & chains, so that we (meaning they) can truly get to the bottom (no pun intended) of what disfigures our imagined  bodies. Ma says we are fictional bodies trying to live real fictional lives lived behind and in front of a proscenium of fear and shame.

I think ma is on acid or is experiencing an acid flashback. Just saying. But I’m a firm believer in her power to deliver.

In the documentary film, America the Beautiful, sponsored by the University of Miami Counseling Center’s outreach group BARE (Body Acceptance Resources and Education), it is described in such a way to perpetuate the myth that eating disorders are a.) disorders and b.) a woman’s disease: “we see how…unattainable images contribute greatly to the rise in low self-esteem, body dysmorphia, and eating disorders for young women and girls who also happen to be the beauty industry’s largest consumers.” Ma says its a social disease. The victims are victims like the victim of a gun shot or acid attack.  Count the number of Proactiv, Maybelline and Cover Girl commercials.

I tell ma she shouldn’t attack the documentary and she tells me I should shut up because I don’t know anything about body dysmorphia. I look at ma and she looks at me. I keep looking at her and she keeps looking at me and then I move in just a little closer so that we are face to face–a butter knife couldn’t pass between our noses.

Look ma, I say, what do you see? No face, she says.

Ma faces my no-face and then recalibrates her theory of self-esteem and massive body deconstructionism. I’ll get you a new face, she says, this week. That’s the problem, I say, you see?

Ma looks at my no-face as if she can decode the problems behind it, or inside of it, or on the surface of my blank slate written in Cover Girl hieroglyphics. Ma reaches into her pocketbook and paints lipstick on the spot of my imagined lips. She erases my lips and hands me the lipstick. She encourages me to draw my own lips and the world I live in. Where I want. When I want. I use her compact and mirror myself after her. I use her hand and guide her cosmetic universe across my face. She presses down and kisses the place where I imagine myself the most. In her arms. Somewhere between I love and you.

 

Posted in Immaculata

Whenever I Would Go To Therapy

Instead of calling my eating disorder ED, I would always change the names up a bit. One day he would be a girl (Bob) and then the next day she would be a boy (Cindy), until I started juggling two eating disorders. Eventually Bulimia came to be known as Serena and Anorexia had Joe as a moniker. These names have stayed with me for quite a while. I don’t use them often, for the sake of people not looking at me weird or weirder in support groups, but that’s how they are known in their ungenerous world.

I was thinking up and down, left and right, about how to introduce myself to the world, to this blog. One thing came to mind. I remembered waking up on a very cold January day back in 2009. I was trying to hide under my sheets for a bit longer, but my bed wouldn’t have it. He kicked me out. So, I picked up the remote, turned Continue reading “Whenever I Would Go To Therapy”