I was very, very lucky this winter to be able to choose to have an abortion and not go through with a pregnancy that, had it gone to term, would have doomed me, and a child, to a lifetime of dealing with the emotional, economic, genetic and other consequences of being tied to a bipolar, abusive man. When I made that choice, I joined the 30-50% of other American women who have made similar choices, for various reasons. So, ladies, think about that when you vote. And you too, men. You really, truly want your sisters to have no right to choose?

All the wedding-related excursions have had me quite busy lately. I did have time to see Eddie Izzard at the Schnitz last week. Awesome seats. Fun. You could spot the religious people in the room because they got up and left when Izzard posed the question “Did God create us, or did we create God?” I would say…B. Sometimes it’s a useful creation. It’s nice to have someone/thing to blame. Yawn.

There are volumes to tell of how the wedding brought out my mother’s latent insanity. But it’s all rather pointless. At one point, talking on the phone with my dad, I told him I thought she was having some crazy ideas. He replied, “You have noooo idea.” Poor, poor man.

Baby sister had cheesecakes at her wedding. In the past, I once made many, many cheesecakes for a friend’s wedding, so I am a ninja cheesecake cutter. All you need is plain dental floss, of course. So what kind of dental floss does my mom hand me? Tea tree oil dental floss. “Mom, I said UNFLAVORED dental floss.”

“This IS unflavored. It is tea tree oil.”

“Mom, tea tree oil IS a flavor. Do you think anyone wants to eat tea tree oil cheesecake?”

“Wellll….”

“Take it back! Take it back now, and get me some plain dental floss!”

My mother. Fucking crazy.

And I leave you with a photo. It’s from a couple weeks back…that’s how far behind I am.

Who am I kidding? I would drink and play the piano late at night. But I would NOT swoon.

At least I’m appreciating the fact that portrayals like these are far less common now, even if we have traded them in for more subtle and insidious representations of women.

Indeed.

There have been a few things on my mind lately. For one, I think my breasts have gotten bigger. Really. My weight is the same, clothes still fit the same, except for bras and tops. Yesterday at lunch, I asked D, who has known me for a long time and presumably pays more attention to them than anyone else–or at least has some sort of tracking spreadsheet to chart their changes over time. He claimed ignorance. My theory that someone was monitoring them is destroyed, or at least revised. He was, however, gracious enough to point out that every man we walked by on the way back to the cubes looked at them. Blech.

(Parenthetically, this is part of the reason I do not look at men’s faces when walking. I know too well what they are looking at, and I don’t want to think about it. Objectification blows.)

The other is that I have been seeing a lot of F. Really, a lot. Night after night of platonic….uh….goodness? Is there anything better than lurid sex scenes from old Mexican B movies? NO, I say! And I say it decidedly, determined to silence my own nagging suspicion that sex is better than watching lurid sex scenes. But it has been so many months that I can’t even remember now.

Voting done, I sealed the ballots into a secrecy envelop, then sealed that into the mailing envelope and signed the back. Then I realized that my ambivalence over the presidential candidates had caused a major problem: I hadn’t voted for one. So I got back in to the ballot, and it seemed right to vote for Hillary.

The trajectory of my allegiance has looked something like this: Edwards. Then Obama. I loved Edwards. Obama…meh. But there are ethical concerns I have about Clinton that kept me from ever feeling like she was my candidate.

Until the sexist shit piled up so deep that it became really clear to me that this qualified and driven candidate would never get elected president because she was a woman, that is. Everyone has skeletons in their closet. Even a cursory involvement in local politics makes that clear. Clinton has hers. Obama has his. And I am not excusing for one second the actions of racist, ignorant assholes across this country who attack him because of his race. But to see Clinton’s qualities that would be admired in a man–decisiveness, tenacity, pragmatism, firmness–twisted into “see, she’s a bitch” liabilities, that makes my blood boil for her, for me, and for the 50% of the population out there who are my sisters.

See, I have this idea that sexism precedes racism. That patriarchy and discrimination on the basis of sex teach us how to treat anyone we perceive as “other” badly. That people who bought in to patriarchy invented colonialism because they already had the perfect model of oppression.

I don’t think the world should be this way. And I know my vote is pretty meaningless, at this point. But still, I’m proud to say I will cast my ballot tomorrow for a woman who would make a great president. There are plenty more like her, and I hope we’ll have one in office before too much more time passes.

This.  McCain’s new faux-green image. It’s smart, but it’s also a lie.

I always know it’s coming, but this time it is likely to be worse, as I…sort of…humiliated him in front of all of his peers the other day. He has many, many times, when I am doing training, inserted himself to try to undermine me, simply because I am a woman. In the past I’ve tried to ignore it, as I didn’t feel comfortable ripping his head off. Well, Tuesday, I did rip his head off, and it was planned. I knew he would be an ass, and I had my response all ready to go. He was so stunned he asked me to repeat myself, which I did.

Sigh. I don’t really like parts of who I have become in this job. Namely, the scared anxious me who wishes she could avoid seeing these people at any cost. But there is that more bold me that has come out, and in the long run, I told this guy something he should have heard long ago, right before he was fired.