Category Archives: southern baptist

[cranky] so broke, so pissed

I can literally feel a stabbing pain in my chest. My two $25 birthday giftcards are gone. Who has been in the house since I recieved them? Realtors, prospective house buyers, my good friend “J,” and my old high school friend and new friend-without-benefits “Jack.” About a month or two ago I had a disappearing cash meltdown — was Jack going through bags, to find my purse, to find my wallet, to take cash?! Twice? No way. Has Jack managed to walk off with giftcards that had been tucked away? Is that what he was doing instead of cleaning the kitchen after he made midnight dinner a few nights ago?

Previously the thief was my younger sister — stealing keys, making copies, and sneaking in while we were at work to steal cash and sell-able anxiety meds (usually klonopin). I feel like the biggest fool letting someone into my home and having money disappear. There is $5.05 in my purse right now, all in coins. That’s all I have. Along with no job and a student loan payment due in 7 days.

My sister has Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). She was diagnosed when she was 17. There is a list of 9 “symptoms”/behaviors and you have to have 5 to get your gold star… she has all 9. Very briefly… she was drugged and raped at age 14 setting her off into a downward spiral of shit; by 15 she had admitted to us that she was drinking heavily since nearly age 13 and she also thought she had a miscarriage without actually having had sex; by 16 she had her first tattoo out of a pay-by-the-hour motel and was dating a 31 year old man with 4 kids from 4 different moms; at 17 I took away her PTI freebie and she had to be processed at the state prison after she stole my identity and all of my money while I was out of the country, she was a member of the Crips, got checked back into the psych ward, and skipped town for several months with my mom (to this day, I’m not sure where they went), after they came back in town she was checked into a residential outdoor rehab center and was their longest ever patient– turning 18 at the facility and choosing to stay. By age 19 she accused me of molesting her repeatedly as children, and now at 20 I’m forbidden from being in the same building as her, per my mother and grandmother’s orders. J has seen her out at bars several times, and she’s going to be 21 in a few months. She’s claimed to be an alcoholic since she was 15, and now she’s regularly drinking and driving and the only person that could possibly stop her is my mother who is afraid of running her off. She is capable of constructing entirely alternate realities, alternate stories, events, persons and then believing them whole-heartedly.

Despite my father and therapist telling me otherwise, I feel like the ultimate dumb shit for allowing money to walk out of my house. I know better. I know the signs, I know what to look for. I let my guard down, and I feel like an idiot. I think there’s some chocolate box cake mix in the cabinet I can make, so I can save that $5.05 for something… no clue what…

[feminist advocacy] Letter to the Editior

Letter to the Editor of the Mount Gilead Ohio local paper. In response to a previously published letter in which the author clearly had his facts about Sandra Fluke, religion, Obama Care, and the Constitution confused. (to say the least)
Dear Editors,
I am a 21 year old college student, and I am on birth control. I am not ashamed that I am on birth control, because I have endometriosis and ovarian cysts. I was put on the pill at the age 15 so that my reproductive organs would remain viable for later in life when I chose to have children, and I would not have a high risk of an ectopic pregnancy. At the age of 19 I had a fast-growing cyst rupture after reaching the size of a tennis ball in just over one month. I could not go into work for three weeks, and laid in bed in excruciating pain when I was not at the doctor’s office. I was given a new birth control pill and told that if I stopped taking it, I might have to have my left ovary removed. Clearly, being on the birth control pill is a matter of my health, my quality of life, and my ability to be a productive member of society.
Sandra Fluke testified that as equal citizens in America, women should be able to access affordable birth control, meaning that insurance companies should be required to provide birth control coverage in their insurance policies. The birth control pill that I am on right now, which is the ONLY pill that I can be on for endometriosis and ovarian cysts without interfering with my hypothyroidism or pre-diabetes (the pre-diabetes was brought on after a 40 pound weight gain from my previous birth control pill trying to control the endometriosis), costs $30 a month because it is non-generic. It costs $120 a month without insurance. This means that, without required coverage for birth control, someone like myself might have to pay $120 x 12 months x 4 years = $5,760. Instead, after insurance I pay $1,440.
I am a Christian, I was raised a Southern Baptist. My NEED for birth control coverage has absolutely nothing to do with religion or sexual promiscuity or taking anything away from religious institutions. Put simply, I believe that birth control is part of my health care, and that if I have health insurance it should be covered. If a woman feels that it is against her religious beliefs to take birth control, then she has every right to never ever take or use any form of birth control. I do not think that an outsider, or any legislator, should decide my fate when they do not know me and my body.
Thank you for taking the time to hear my story and opinion.

[feminist] mass produced bras and my breast reduction surgery

In response to:
Brumberg, Joan Jacobs. “Breast Buds and the ‘Training’ Bra.” 1977. Women’s Voices, Feminist Visions: Classic and Contemporary Readings, 4th edition. 249-254.
Before reading this I had no idea that the first bra was created in 1913, “designed simply to flatten,” and that the more current/modern bra came about in the 1930’s (Brumberg 250). The concept of the bra is so new yet so universal now. Mass production and mass media are so influential in society, and the bra is a prime example. With mass production came sizing—A, B, C, D, the infamous DD, and the realm of un-tamed breasts even larger. (As a person who once wore the “more than a DD,” I know firsthand the impossibility of buying a bra in a department store that will be the correct size.) I was still in middle school when I made the transition to “larger than my mother” and up to DD, and had to face the realization that I wasn’t just larger than normal, larger than my peers, but I was freakishly, abnormally larger than society as a whole. For years I wore two minimizer bras at a time in an effort to “tame” my breasts even more, as they continued to grow. I was known as “jugs” for years in high school before I had breast reduction surgery, after which I spent my final year in baggy shirts so that no one would I know that I had “gotten my tits cut off.”  (which to this day people perceive as a “tragedy” despite the fact that it was practically a medical necessity)
The physical pain I had from wearing underwire bras aimed at “taming” my breasts has always led me to wonder why anyone would wear a AAA or AA (or even an A) bra when to me they so obviously don’t need one. But with stores and brands like Victoria’s Secret a AAA girl can wear a bra that makes her look like she has real B-size breasts. (I’ve always wondered how disappointed the boyfriend is once the bra comes off?) 

The concept of “teenage breast management” developed in the 1950’s by male doctors (I would also like to call them pedophiles) is absolutely sick and totally bullshit (Brumberg 251). The medical world has been cutting people open and examining them for hundreds of years, and obviously know that breasts are held up by more than skin, and are going to sag no matter how great your bra is, and how often you wear it. These doctors were either funded by the bra-industry or had lots of sons looking for perky-breasted women to marry. And the “boob check” sounds horrifying. No one’s breasts are perfectly symmetrical , proportional, with mirror-image nipples. No one should chart your “breast development” to promote the idea that you need huge boobs to breast feed the children you make with your perfect husband. (Were they doing “penis development checkups”? NOPE. I’d personally be a bit more concerned with whether or not my son was becoming a man than if my daughter had the perfectly-growing boobs to go with her period.)
Junior figure control? (Brumberg 251) Great, if you want to wear spanx at the age of 40, I’m all for it. If you want your 14 year old daughter to wear some spanx to make her look slimmer, you’ve clearly not questioned your daughter’s pediatrician properly. Through the mass-marketing of spanx (and knock off spanx) I’ve managed to buy a few pairs myself in my efforts to look slimmer and “fit in” better. (PS- fail.)Through the media and my own lovely mother I managed to spend middle and high school larger than most of my peers and desperate to find solutions to fit in to the stereotypical  image of the ideal high schooler. In the 1950’s junior figure control companies provided “free purse-size booklets on calorie counting”—way to go making the world feel fat by the age of twelve (253). 
In the back of magazines there are always sketchy ads for dating sites, making your long hair more beautiful (you know, the white girl hair that you can flip), and making your tiny boobs bigger. There were never any creams or exercising for making your breasts smaller. The song “I must, I must, I must develop my bust” (Brumberg 253) I learned in 5th grade, as the song “I must, I must, I must increase my bust.” Way to make the mosquito-bite girls feel like crap about themselves. 
I did not wear a B bra until after my surgery—my mother refused to let me wear more than a tank top until I was clearly, desperately in need of something more to cover my breasts in order to fit in at school… she waited until I was a full C. This was how she grew up (a conservative Southern Baptist). This also meant that I was not allowed to have colored, polka dotted, or lacy bras. Not that they made those in 36DD, 36DDD, 38DDD, 38-“hm. Big…” The very first bra that I bought for myself was light blue with a tiny peephole between my breasts. It cost me $20, and had no underwire and held my breasts perfectly. It didn’t cost me $50, squish me until I couldn’t breathe, and come in an ugly nude grandma style. (I know, I’m perpetuating age-ism, but that’s the only way I can put it…) FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE THE AGE OF NINE I FELT LIKE I FIT IN; I WORE A BRA THAT DIDN’T RESTRICT MY BREATHING; AND I WORE A BRA THAT I FELT BEAUTIFUL IN.