Got milk?

Nothing like reproducing to remind you that very little separates us from the animals (opposable thumbs, sense of self, reality television, etc.). Pregnancy is Cartesian dualism writ up close and personal - your mind's doing the usual things (barring the odd bout of spontaneous sobbing at particularly touching fabric softener commercials), but your body has gone AWOL and is not responding to orders:

Mind: Okay, time to tie up your shoes!
Belly: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA whatever.
Mind: Where the hell did that come from?!#$#
Floyd: [is late for work]

And then there's labour, where your body completely takes over, chasing your mind into a tiny little dusty corner, where it curls up, shaking, amidst rapidly fading memories of what it's like to be able to go more than three hours without peeing.

A life revolving around instinctual behaviour, bodily functions and satisfying the most basic needs for water, food, sleep and randomly howling at people - never before had I felt so close to my animal sisters. Never, that is, until I found myself breastfeeding in public.

Show-off

I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to - not because I have a problem with public breastfeeding, but because I have a problem with my breasts being public. And for the first few months, feeding in public was a tangle of squawking, squirming limbs and Winnie-the-Pooh blankets. On the one hand, no one made a fuss about it; but on the other, I'm pretty sure it's because they thought I was trying to smother a particularly bad-tempered hairless cat.

Flash-forward a few months - and there I am, sitting at the local coffee/hipster festival with nothing but a baby's head and a successful music career between me and a Janet Jackson-style nipple slip. And, despite my tendency to make everything political (movie nights! family dinners! the food choices of people in front of me at the grocery store!) this particular action wasn't. I was there, boob out in a public place, because at this particular point in our lives, it's the easiest way to feed my child.  No bottles, no battles, no cursing the Creator for giving humans a measly two arms...just me and my (no longer fussing) baby, sitting quietly and secretly envying how effortlessly cool everyone looks in their skinny jeans and pink high tops.

Did I offend someone with my public display of lactation? Maybe. But honestly, I barely have the energy to check my pants for spit-up before leaving the house, let alone concern myself with the delicate sensibilities of complete strangers in regard to a completely normal and unobtrusive action. And to be even more honest, people really do seem to have better things to do than get upset about it.

Liked this post? Try these on for size:

• Sorry I'm late - must be the daycare
• On Chivalry
• Get your own damn uter...er, coffee

Bountiful polygamy charges

It's about freakin' time. I never quite understood why they could be breaking the law so blatantly with no consequences. Time to give up your harem, boys! And by "boys" I mean "dirty old men who abuse their power as religious leaders to coerce young women, who would otherwise be involved with people their own age, into having sex with them, and by "harem" I mean "women and girls who have been raised to believe they are sub-humans whose sole purpose in life is to provide household, sexual and child-rearing services to dirty old men".

Get your own damn uter...er, coffee

UPDATE - Per the discussion in the comments, here's some info from the National Advocates for Pregnant women on drug use during pregnancy. There's a fact sheet that refers to studies (although it doesn't name them! drat! My search continues!) and many articles that deal with how the "crack baby" myth is used to criminalize poor, and mostly African-American, women.

Back when I tried to keep my raging radical feminism separate from my raging political radicalism, I kept a separate blog called The Fetal Position where I angrily told theocrats, fundies, bitter folks young and old, be-penised or vagina-ed, to keep their grubby, most likely improperly-washed hands off and get their own damn uterus.

It’s also where I wrote this post, about an article from the Washington post detailing a report put out by the CDC in response to the U.S. ranking second to last in infant mortality rates in the developed world (in your face, Latvia!). According to the article, the report advised that all women who had functional ovaries should consider themselves ‘pre-pregnant’, whether they were planning on getting pregnant in the near future or otherwise, and therefore abstain from drinking fun things, eating fun things, doing fun things, or thinking of themselves as human beings entitled to have any enjoyment in their lives.

Of course, if you actually read the report, unlike me, then you would have known that it said a lot of things, including that the general health of women of child-bearing age could be improved. (Or, as John McCain would say, “health”.) But "Study gives detailed overview of complex issue with reasonable, science-based suggestions towards a solution" doesn't make for as catchy a headline as "Forever Pregnant".

Now, the CBC’s not going that far – but nothing exacerbates my Monday morning grouchies quite like two separate “Pregnant women who do X are bad!” stories. Don’t gain weight! Don’t drink coffee! Or else you are a TERRIBLE MOTHER who will probably want to have, like, ONE GLASS OF WINE, and should you suffer the tragedy of a miscarriage it will probably be YOUR FAULT because you went by a Starbucks and you INHALED.

Honestly, these types of reports are double-plus badness – another item on the already weighed-down shoulders of women, whose behaviours during pregnancy seem to be responsible for every possible aspect of their child and its development, from physical appearance, to character, to abilities and more (“damn you, slice of brie my mother had three months into her pregnancy, for preventing me from being a gorgeous, six-foot judo expert and concert pianist who solves crimes on her spare time using her hyper-sensitive sense of smell!”); PLUS another weapon for every self-righteous douchebag out there who gets off on judging a woman’s “morals” by her appearance, since nothing says irresponsible slut like a visibly pregnant woman, right douchebags? (Douchebags: “Nice sweater vest, man-hater.”) Better put her in her place, that uterus-having, life-creating, “I’m a human being with the ability to make decisions about what’s best for me, my body and my family”-thinking incubator.

Now, I’m not saying that research on healthy pregnancies isn’t important – it’s just frustrating that the studies (and the media coverage) focus on taking away stuff from women, rather than giving them stuff, like, say, comprehensive pre-natal health care. Because that would be SOCIALIST, and socialism is EVEN WORSE than having the second-highest infant mortality rate in the developed world. Or something like that.

Discovery of the Week

Oh oh oh soooo exciting! So, I've been reading up more on this eating local, 100-mile diet thing...so DD and I found our way to the local farmer's market on opening day last week. And there were organic tomatoes and cucumber and asparagus and radishes and spinach and all the ususal suspects. And then there was (drumroll, bated breath, please): A LOCAL ARTISAN CHEESEMAKER AIEEEEE!!!!

So. Exciting. They were all sold out of everything but feta, but we sampled their blue cheese (divine) and a couple other soft cheeses and oooooohhhhh so good. So I'm thinking maybe this summer I'll try going full-out some week on a local diet, and see how it goes. I was sure about it, but at least know I know that, if nothing else, I can eat cheese all week.

In other news, the garden, she is growing - we've had over 3 inches of rain this past week, so the plants and veggies and lawn are just sprouting up like crazy. I mean, they are doing that because I am such an excellent gardener!

And - in work news - I guess I lost the bet I had...with myself. It wasn't Maurice Vellacott who introduced the first fetal rights bill, but his friend and party-member Leon Benoit. There'll be a post on this later at The Fetal Position, 'cause I'd like to go in-depth on this one. It is a very particular issue. But I'm still holding out for good old Mauriiice in the anti-abortion bill area. Don't let me down again!

Oh, wait - please do. Please let me down, now and forever.

March for Life? Fuck off and die

Thank Jebus it only comes once a year, or my head would asplode faster than you can say "Get your own damn uterus!"

Yes, it's the effin' March for Life on Parliament Hill.

I haven't dared do much more than peer out my window, lest I be overcome with the temptation to bash their stupid faces in with their "yes, of course an 8-week old fetus has arms, legs, and eyes, as you can clearly see in this totally accurate photo of a helpless aborted baby" signs.

I just...I can't. I just can't face these people. There is no reasoning with someone who believes that they are divine champions on a holy quest to be saviour to zygotes cannon-fodder adorable little cherubic angels trapped inside an demonic incubator-thing that ridiculously purports to be an actual, living human being with, like, "rights" or something.

What drives me bonkers is that these people are trying to frame the argument in that if you support abortion rights, than you despise babies. Well, I've always known I wanted to have kids. I want to have kids because I want to experience the full power of my body, a woman's body. I want to have kids because I've always loved kids. I want to have kids so that when I grow old I'll have people to nag about not calling me who'll listen 'cause they want whatever's left of my wealth that didn't go to feeding, clothing and educating them.

Whatever the reason - I WANT to have kids. But I want to have them WHEN I want to have them, under the circumstances I choose, with whom I choose, by whatever methods I choose, and that means controlling my reproduction by contraception, emergency contraception, or abortion, and it doesn't matter how much of a sinful whore you think I am, random old guy with a sign, because there's all of four men whose advice I would seek on pregnancy, and YOU ARE NOT ONE OF THEM, and it doesn't matter how fervently you pray, scary young woman my age, you are not going to influence my decision on whether or not to abort, and angry little grandma? Congrats on your daughter's fertility, but fuck off about mine. And fuck off about everyone woman or man out there who DOESN'T want kids, for whatever reason, because it is none of your GODDAMN BUSINESS.

These people, with their righteous anger and their holier-than-thou smugness, and their, "Big Daddy and the sky loves me more than you, nya nya nya" make me physically ill. How they courageously speak up for non-sentient blobs of tissue while ACTUAL, HONEST-TO-GOD children are being starved, beaten, abandoned, abused, exploited, and so forth; how they act like they are all "pro-life" for wanting to impose motherhood on woman, even though pregnancy is more dangerous than abortion; how they probably pray every night for this to be invented...

There are six billion people on this effin' planet. We are not likely to die out any time soon. We are likely to kill each other in a variety of increasingly diverse ways and poison our environment beyond habitability. Drop the anti-woman, anti-choice, anti-reason argument and go and do something that God ACTUALLY CARES ABOUT.

Maaaan...would you believe me that today's post was originally going to be on the suckitude of Hollywood Homicide and the awesomeness of my high school rugby team? See? The fundies RUIN EVERYTHING.

New blog, and other things...

Wow, this is an entry-riffic day so far. Coupla things; I'm gonna start with the small stuff first and work my way down to the heavies:

1)I have an rss feed now. I think. Maybe? Also possibly an atom feed, but I'm not 100% sure. It is so funny how my boss thinks I am some sort of Internet whiz...

2)I've started posting on a new blog called E-Parliament. For you political junkies out there...

3)I've also started a new blog called Fetal Position, at http://getyourowndamnuterus.blogspot.com. It's still under construction, and it's mostly there because to give me place to vent on issues surrounding reproductive rights. Maybe it's all the freakin' right-wing, pro-life, "fetuses are more important than woman" crap I get in the mail, maybe it's the creepingly regressive movement that's pushing back women's rights, maybe it's the time that I once sat at my computer typing with my 50-year-old mother of two co-worker doing the same while our boss was lectured on the pro-life agenda by a 23-year-old boy and the full assbackwardness of that fact finally surfaced in between thoughts on Bill Napoli and Canada's own uterus-covetor extraordinaire, Maurice Vellacott, but the last month or so I've found myself driven to the point of wordless rage more times than I can remember over the holier-than-thou crap that spews out of pro-lifers mouths as if recognizing women as full human beings is the single most immoral thing they've ever heard of.

SO! If that's your bag, check it out. And I'd like to thank everyone who spends their valuable time travellin' with Floyd. And also to those who shared their gardening stories/suggestions/memories of the time I killed their plants. I will try and have herbs and edible flowers to go with my radishes.

As Bad As You Can Possibly Imagine

Content Note from 2021: contains references to sexual assault. Edited to remove transphobic language.

Now, I know this story has been out for awhile, but I just wanted to weigh in on the whole South Dakota abortion ban boondoggle. Let me start off by giving my heartfelt thanks to Bill Napoli. Bill, or B-Nap, as I like to fondly refer to him, is one of those few men out there who really goes the distance to try and bridge the gender gap. He's one of those few dicks (and I mean that literally) who's willing to put his money where his mouth is and try to get into the mind of a pregnant person. Now, of course, being a dick, B-Nap can't ever really know what it's like to be either of those things. But at least he's thought about it. I mean, A LOT. Especially in the case of rape victims. I would imagine that, based on this video, he has selflessly spent at least the better part of his life since puberty thinking about rape victims. Especially young, nubile, virginal rape victims. To which I can only ask, WHERE ARE THE REST OF THE BILL NAPOLIS OF THE WORLD? Where are the rest of these men who will take the time out of their day, packed with important manly things, to ponder vivid and brutal rape scenarios, replaying them over and over in their minds until their wives can't help but wonder why they are suddenly being asked to dress up like Catholic school girls during sex? WHERE? Now, a lot of people will say that the opinions of men who will never have to face the physical, emotional and psychological realities of pregnancies are somehow less valid when it comes to that issue. But I think what B-Nap has shown is that if you think about something a lot, then you are totally qualified to pass judgement on it. This is also known as the "professional sports fan" syndrome, as in "You suck Redden! Learn to skate! If I could get off this couch without falling over, I'd show you a thing or two about [falls over]". I would also be curious to now where B-Nap stands on gay rights. I would guess that he would be against them. Now, it may seem hateful and ignorant, ladies, but him and other supposed "homophobes" are actually doing us a favour! It is obvious that only cishet men can really care about women: after all, who spends more time thinking about the violent sodomy of young female virgins?   So thanks, B-Nap, for reminding me that that certain type of man still exists. The type of man who doesn't need a medical degree, or a uterus, to know what the standard for pregnancy rights in this country should be. The type of man who's willing to spend countless hours imagining the most horrible rape he can, and then brave enough to go on TV and share it with the nation. The type of man who knows that there aren't many women out there who would procreate with his type of man voluntarily, and so decides to make some important changes within himself, like becoming a politician and making a law that allows him and his type to rape and then force their victims to bear their children, just like in that mythical Stone Age his blasphemous science teacher once told him about. So to you, B-Nap, I say, may I never forget that your type is not yet extinct. And so determined am I to remember this fact, that I even purchased a little memento.

How the Mighty Have Fallen (Prey to Flawed Arguments and Rhetoric)

As I have mentioned before, my job exposes me to pretty much every single publication circulated in the entire country. A lot of them immediately get filed in the big blue bin (sorry, Ontario Chicken Farmers), but some of them get read cover to cover as soon as I have a spare moment. And, perhaps because I am some sort of crazed masochist (I prefer to think of it as knowing my enemy but hey! po-tay-to, po-tah-to), this includes a trinity of newsletters from organizations whose very existence confuses and enrages me: REAL Women of Canada, Campaign Life Coalition, and LifeCanada.

So when the latter of these arrived today, a took a quick moment to scan through it, looking for irrefutable evidence that I am a shameless whore who God will punish with all forms of terrible STDs and cancers (if only those damn scientists would stop discovering treatments for them) (ASIDE: DD and I were going through customs together in Vancouver, and the officer was this, like, New Yorker with the accent and everything, and we were all "Oh, we're travelling together but we're not family and that's why we each filled out a declaration card" and he's all "So, living in sin, huh? Have a nice cruise!" and that was it. Maybe he didn't get the memo that I am a shameless whore).

Anyway, I'm looking through the newsletter, and it got me angry for approximately 30 seconds, then sad, then angry, then hopeful (they do actually have some good stuff in there, dealing with issues like stem cell research, euthenasia, rights of the disabled, and other topics that often get overlooked by other groups too caught up in the glamourous world of showing pictures of aborted foetuses), then angry again, then angst-ridden, and then I would have normally forgetten about it except for an article on the very back page. And I'm reading it, and it's an anti-abortion piece presenting about a half-dozen totally flawed arguments, but written with this folksy, down-home humour and gentle irreverence and I'm thinking "I know this writing style" and then I see the name and I'm all "No. Shit. Doctor Dave!"

Now, O-towners won't know this name, but back home, he was known to many as a doctor, a columnist, father of an crazy-talented and super sweet daughter who also played on my softball team, which he, incidentally, coached.

Oh, Doctor Dave...I wish LifeCanada had this recent issue up so y'all could read along at home, but you'll have to read now and fact-check later. Thing is, I have a ton of respect for this man, and he's done a lot for a lot of people, and he really is a likeable guy, and so it pains me to no end to have him write things like:

Every child is wanted. Every pregnancy is not [...] Doctors constantly
receive requests from those who would love the opportunity to raise a
child. Every child is wanted... by someone.

Which - nice sentiment, but try telling that to these kids. And then, this gem:

Q)What about a woman's right to do with her body as she pleases?
A: It is against the law for a woman to sell her body or do certain things
to or with it [maybe it shouldn't be, then!-Floyd]. But a growing fetus
is, in fact, not her body...An appendix or a toenail is part of our body but a fetus is a distinct society.

Dude - you are...a doctor. Like, an actual medical doctor. And, I have heard, a good one. So, this? Is a little weak, coming from you. This one reminds me of an argument I had in high school with Rikki about whether or not one could "fall off" of one's shoes, which she said one could, whereas I maintained that one could only "fall out" of one's shoes, and said argument went all the way to our English teacher, who soundly crushed me by siding on the "fall off and/or fall out" end of things. "Part of her body", "in her body", see above: po-tay-to, po-tah-to. (Also see - "Straw Man") Bottom line - HER BODY.

Also - man, is Quebec going to be le pissed when they realizes that foetuses everywhere beat them to the "distinct society" sucker punch. Also - man, are women everywhere going to be la pissed when they realize that their is a distinct society inside their wombs and the government starts to try to fund heritage and unity events up there ("Please, ma'am, just one "Canada" banner?" "NO!").

There's more, but this post has already taken me through half a Law & Order: SVU, a brand-new Lost, the inevitable Kevin Covais elimination and now the latter part of Tomb Raider: Cradle of Life (honestly? I think I am kinda in love with the awesomeness that is Angelina. Her hotness transcends all known sexual orientations. Huh... sort of like this guy's), and threatens to take me all the way to the midnight rebroadcast of The Daily Show.

So, unlike the comprehensive lists of arguments against abortions with appropriate rebuttals which I had intended, I will leave you with the thought that even smart, generous, and educated people will often sacrifice accuracy in favour of humour (no, I don't mean me...well, not just me :)); that even the best of us can fall prey to fallacious arguments when our most sacred beliefs are being debated; and that Angelina Jolie is like, way hot.