It isn’t easy to apologize. When anger consumes you the last thing you ever want to do is apologize to someone. But I’ve found that it is one of the best skills a person can possess – the simple art of apology. I did this today. I wrote to someone I’d fought with on Twitter. I fight with too many people on Twitter, as it happens, but I’d had a particularly bad year and my anger management failed. The apology was the best thing I did today — maybe all week. It instantly removed everything awful I’d been thinking about whenever this person, or the incident, popped into my mind. I felt so much better afterwards I figured it had to be good therapy to practice this. In this case, my apology was the right thing to do. I found that an apology to a close friend recently also renewed our friendship. It might not have patched up all of the hurt feelings but it was a start.
There are currently three people I will probably never apologize to. I don’t think I have to apologize. Rather, they do. They never will, of course. So I have to hold onto this anger. I wonder sometimes how hard it would be to contact them and offer an apology. Each time I practice what I might say. I even envision going through this forgiveness/apology during yoga or meditation. But alas, holding onto the anger means more to me than letting it go. Funny, that.
Pubic hair. Has the whole world gone completely crazy? What’s with the fully shaved situation? Bring back the bush. Bring back the men who let it all hang out, hair and all. No one should be required to meticulously remove every pubic hair for aesthetic purposes. If we’re talking hair in teeth, I can dig it. Trim it, shave essential areas but to go full bald eagle just to keep up with the times? The times, they have to change back. Now, it’s true that many people equate a furry mound with books like The Joy of Sex. But look at the opening scene of Carrie. Those girls look like fairly normal adult women (playing teenagers). See how they have pubic hair? Imagine that scene with all of their pubes shaved off. It would just look icky. To me anyway. Is it an age thing? Somehow I doubt either Kim Kardashian or Kanye West have pubes. Something tells me they had probably had an operation to remove every wiry strand.
At the end of the day, the naked form looks great with a thatch framing it. Within reason, of course. Some of that 70s porn makes you think, wow, really? I’m supposed to stick my face in that? Back then, a shaved woman would fit into that category of porn we don’t like to talk about publicly. It was a fetish, a peculiarity. Now, it’s become the standard. In porn and, I’ve found, in real life for those paying attention to the trends. I always like it, though, when the guy doesn’t pay attention to trends and wouldn’t be caught dead taking a razor to his private parts. Clean toenails? Always a plus. Brushed teeth? Totally. But pubes? Leave them on fellas. Unless you’re dating Kim Kardashian. I also hear Madonna is a big fan of all shaved. I was relieved to hear, however, when Gwyneth Paltrow recently confessed to “rocking the 70s vibe,” meaning, she wears pubes proudly. Here’s to hoping she is ahead of a new trend backwards.
Recently, I found myself pregnant at a pretty old age – 47 years old. It came as a complete surprise, and because of the situation I was in, it wasn’t a very easy time. I noticed immediately that my body was reacting to it completely differently than it had when I was much younger. It was partly the age, I think, but partly because there was something not quite right. My doctor told me I had the fertility of a 25 year-old. But those eggs, they’re not young eggs. Either way, it was rough. The fetus died after the first month but my body didn’t figure it out for a whole other month. I think I almost died miscarrying that baby, partly because I didn’t want to go to the hospital and partly because I didn’t want to let go of it. I wanted there to be a baby, you see.
Even still, a whole year later it’s hard to come to terms with it. My body hasn’t fully adjusted yet and I still mourn what might have been. But one thing it did do was connect me quite dramatically with the shortness of life. I did the math – 47 + 20 = 67. That’s almost 70 by the time my kid would be 20. And from 70 to 80 and then…so short. So unbearably, horribly, unfathomably short. Would it have been worth it for the kid to know me for such a short time? Would it be easier to leave, harder? I didn’t know the answer to that – but I did know that suddenly life looked very differently to me.
The way the stories of three men played out in this country and in the media over the past few months has been almost unbearable. In the end, very likely all three men will be dead. One jumped in the river to kill himself. Another, gunned down by police with a suicide vest strapped to his chest, and the third, his younger brother to be most likely put to death by the federal government. Three dead men, three senseless deaths.
It must be said up front that the what the Boston bombers did was unforgivable – casually setting off two bombs that killed four people and destroyed the bodies and lives of many others. Their intent was to kill Americans to protest America’s killing of innocents in Afghanistan and Iraq, as well as our continued involvement in war. Al Qaeda’s agenda became their agenda by association. They are Public Enemy #1 and Public Enemy #2 – everything we are taught to fear, second only to a school shooter, of which there are too many.