My Dog the Mutant

The other day I came home to a very itchy dog covered in bumps. As you may know, my dog has been struggling with a skin infection for a few weeks, and  no matter what I did whether is was vet visits or home remedies, nothing seemed to clear it up. When I felt the bumps under my dog’s fur, I  impulsively shaved my poor puppy to see what is going on. Looking down at my dog’s skin, I observed that not only had the infection now spread all over his body, but his skin is now dry and patchy, reminding me of a bad dandruff commercial. As soon as I realized how bad the skin infection became, I immediately called my veterinarian and made an appointment.

I admit it. I have a problem that I have had since I was a kid. My mother diagnosed me with diarrhea of the mouth. I will say the first thing that comes into my head to a fault. It’s like Tourette ’s syndrome without as many swear words.  While I was on the phone, the receptionist asked me what was wrong with my dog. Without even thinking, I quickly responded with, “It looks like he has an STD all over his body.” I could tell that she didn’t find this statement amusing at all and after a moment of awkward silence I managed to blurt out the words, “skin infection.”

Two days later I found myself wrestling my dog to try to get his face leash on. My dog HATES this face mask much as a child hates shots. As soon as he saw me pull it out of his dog box, he had a reaction of excitement mixed with the unspoken subtext of, “I will now make your life more difficult. Much, much more difficult.” Trying to get a face leash on a thrashing English Mastiff is like trying to hug a beached great white shark, only less fun.

After ten minutes I was covered in sweat and my hair was slicked back with dog drool but we were finally ready to go to the vet. I put my dog in my station wagon and opened up the windows to allow him to stick his head out and enjoy the breeze. Bear-Bear always finds an immense amount of enjoyment in biting at the air and I like the fact that he is distracted enough to avoid attempting to sit in my lap while I drive.  I still don’t think he realizes that he weighs more than I do. Or that I need to see where we’re going while I’m driving.

As I walked into the veterinarian’s office I faced typical reaction of people taking several steps back and looking at my dog as if I just walked in with a rabies infected lion. I approached the receptionist and she immediately recognized my dog and said, “I think we have a room open.” I have observed that every time I come, they always put me and Bear-Bear in a different room to wait for the vet almost immediately because as soon as I walk to the building, everyone in the waiting room begins to clutch onto their animals as if my dog is a ferocious killer and they tend to back up to the walls. My dog on the other hand, is unaware of everyone else’s fear and feels the need to say hi to everyone. So I struggle to keep him at a comfortable distance while he struggles to give everyone a big, ultra-friendly, slobbery drool-covered kiss. He’s like that hairy great aunt that only visits at Thanksgiving. He just can’t wait to plant a big sloppy one on a new friend.

After the appointment, I found myself waiting to pay in a packed full waiting room. To my left a woman and her young daughter who couldn’t have been older than five sat in chairs several feet away from me. The woman asked me how old is my dog and if he will get any bigger. I let her know that he is two and the mastiff breed stops growing at age three. The little girl with curly hair and large soulful and innocent brown eyes looks over at Bear-Bear and says to her mother with a voice full of enthusiasm, “Wow! That’s a big dog!” Her mother responded, “Well yes honey it is. And he will grow even bigger!” The little girl suddenly became solemn and in the creepiest voice I have ever heard responded with, “And then he will die.”

As soon as those words came out of the child’s mouth, I burst out laughing so hard that I was curled over gasping for a breath of air. The mother was completely and utterly mortified, apologizing profusely and told her daughter not to say those things. I told the mother that it was okay and admitted the daughter was only speaking the truth and eventually he will grow old and jump over the rainbow bridge. I found it a refreshing taste of my own medicine; to see what I was probably like when I was her age, humiliating my mother with my own very uncomfortable and very public observations of life and death. I have been smiling to myself ever since.  There is hope for the future.

 

 

Just Not My Thing

                Yesterday I went to see a Journey tribute band playing live. I met up with a beautiful couple that had been together for close to 20 years and had some amazing conversations while listening to the music on the green grass. What I found to be the most amusing was while “people watching” I was able to observe such a togetherness in the community.  It was as though music bound together the souls of complete strangers into a beautiful tapestry of humanity. I saw a rare unity on that field and watched as individuals of all ages held their hands up, danced and swayed in unison to the melodies floating in the air.

I was in a complete state of relaxation as a cool breeze brushed my skin and the sun set behind me creating a cascade of vibrant colors streaking across the sky. After about twenty minutes, the couple that I was chatting with broke out a bottle of white wine and offered me a glass in a small plastic cup. I politely declined, which of course brought about a questioning look which lead to a small conversation about how I don’t really drink. The kind woman with the short black hair commended me for hardly drinking which caused me to think back on my own personal history.

I never liked the taste of alcohol and the only time that I found myself drinking in any regular fashion was for a very few months when my depression became so severe that the only way I could think about handling my despair was by drowning it in a liquid poison, so that I might escape my own reality for a few hours. I admit that it was an unhealthy way of dealing with things and I wouldn’t suggest it for anyone. The heavy drinking for me only lasted about 7 months before I stopped. I decided that I wanted more out of my life. I realized that I was a wreck and I was becoming the person I swore I would never become. I stopped drinking completely for a while and even though I was never addicted to booze, the thought of allowing alcohol back into my body was only an unpleasant reminder of the pit that I had emerged from and I never wanted to return to that darkness.

During the time immediately after I stopped drinking, my eyes were open to the ugly truth about today’s society. I would go out with my friends to a dance club or a concert and order myself a pineapple juice or a water with a splash of cranberry. I didn’t want to get drunk. I loved dancing, so I knew that I would have just as much fun, if not more, just being sober and getting a thrill from life. When I would have someone attractive hit on me, they would offer to buy me a drink and I would say “I would love a water.” I cannot tell you how many times I would get an eye roll or have the person hitting on me refuse to get me a water and when I wouldn’t get an alcoholic beverage, they would make a rude remark and storm off as if I had just rejected them. At first this upset me. I began to question if maybe I was being too stiff by not wanting to drink the toxic cocktails that everyone around me was drinking. After a while I began to realize how silly all of this was and I realized that if I was trying to hit on someone and they said water, I would get them the biggest glass of water I could find.

 Not wanting to drink when everyone else is drinking doesn’t make someone stiff.  It means that they are strong enough to know what they like and what they don’t like and will not bend to peer pressure even when it means rejection. I recently was invited to a dinner party where I was continuously pressured to drink by women who were older than me. Even though now I occasionally have one drink over dinner, my stomach was very upset and drinking was not on the menu for me. I tried to be as polite as possible by saying that I was not wanting to drink but also trying to be a lady about why I didn’t want to drink. The people in that house didn’t want to take “no” for an answer and even though the owners of the house respected me after asking me multiple times, the fellow guests didn’t. Finally a woman with a baby strapped to her chest snapped at me, “You know it’s really rude not to take a drink when it’s offered to you.” I looked down at her baby, over to her wine glass, then back up to her, and just walked away. There were so many things that I wanted to say but I chose to keep my mouth shut.

                You should never be made to feel like you have to drink alcohol when others are drinking around you. Think of it like this, if everyone else at the table orders a soda and you order a water, does everyone look down at you? Do they laugh at you and make rude remarks about the fact that you are not wanting to have fun? No.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to have a drink, but putting the person beside you down for not drinking is wrong. Pressuring someone into doing what you are doing is belittling the decision that they have made for themselves. Their decision should be respected and just because they are not drinking doesn’t mean they won’t have fun. I have always found it silly that the most common pick-up line in today’s society is offering to buy someone an overpriced beverage that addles the mind so that you aren’t living in the moment and can lead to heart disease, liver damage and kidney failure. Smooth move America.  

This Is Why I Have Trust Issues

I came across a Facebook post that caused my stomach to clench and twist with absolute disgust.  The other day I was scrolling through the feed and I came across an image of a beautiful girl who had acne. She posted a “before” and “after” image of herself which in and of itself takes strength considering that we live in a society that oppresses women and holds them to the unattainable expectation of physical perfection. Her image was shared by two men. The first man posted her image with the caption, “This is why I have trust issues.” The second share had the caption, “Can you imagine going to sleep with the woman on your right (the image of her wearing makeup) and waking up to that thing on the left? (The woman without makeup.) It took everything in my power to be the bigger person and not go off on these two men who obviously thought they were being funny by putting down another human being.

This isn’t the first time that I have come across these kind of vicious posts. The “before” and “after” images that women post are not meant to be an invitation to be cruel. They are an act of strength to show other women out there that are ashamed of their skin or their body that they are not alone. I keep seeing these images with comments under them like, “gross,” “haven’t you ever heard of soap,” and “she looks like she has an S.T.D. on her face,” in addition to making comments about the woman no longer being beautiful without her makeup on. The one that makes me the angriest is the most common comment that I have seen, “This is why I have trust issues.”

This comment makes me want to scream right back at them, “this is why we as women have trust issues!” Women are held up to expectations of physical perfection; the standard given to us by the media.  Woe to the woman that fails match up to that air-brushed and photo-shopped expectation. To fall short is to be seen as less than human and degraded and shamed into self-loathing and hating parts of our bodies. The concept of “flaws” is purely created by the media and held by society. We as women are expected to have a face without visible pores and not a pimple in sight. If we break out we feel the need to cover our face with a skin colored cream to create almost a “doll-like” appearance. If we do not do that then we are subjected to public ridicule.  

So here is a little bit of information to counter act the ignorant comments made about acne. Acne does not usually have to do with not using soap. Often times it can be a hormone problem, the result of humidity and environmental pollutants, genetics, medication, oil based cosmetics, stress, or a result of hard/tap water.  

The comments that I see on social media feeds about acne isn’t funny, it’s bullying and it is cruel. How would you feel if you were in her shoes? If you had a daughter that struggled with her skin, would you tell her what you just said about that woman? How would you feel if someone else said that about your daughter? How would you feel if she came home crying because of the cruel remarks that were made about her skin? How would you feel if you watched your own daughter feel the need to cover her own face with a coat of paint in order to even remotely feel beautiful and when she takes off this mask, she hates the beautiful woman she sees in the mirror? If you wouldn’t want someone to say that to your daughter, don’t say it to someone else’s daughter. If you don’t care, then you should really reevaluate who you are as a human being. Just because you are broken doesn’t give you the right to break someone else. Why would you pick on a girl’s acne? How is that clever, incisive wit? Does it really make you feel better about yourself?  After all, we don’t mention your thinning hair, beer belly or E.D., because we knew you might not feel so good about your own self-image.

To all of the women out there that have acne, I want to be very clear to you right now. You are just as beautiful without make up on. Don’t let the small minds of others bring you down or cause you to think any less of yourself. The concept of physical perfection is a lie that media has brainwashed us to believe. Media dictates what is considered a flaw and what considered beauty so I am standing up and saying to all of you that you are beautiful and you don’t need makeup. If you want to wear makeup, wear it because you enjoy it, but don’t feel ashamed to go without it. You are beautiful no matter what. 

To the Person that Paid for My Starbucks

To the Person that Paid for My Starbucks,

You didn’t know me and you will probably not remember me, but I will always remember you. A while back, I was going through a difficult time in my life. I just gone through a very hard break up and financially I was having difficulties. Due to a car accident, I was in a lot of pain and seeing doctors repeatedly to attempt to alleviate or control it. One week I made a little bit of extra money so I decided to treat myself to a refreshing drink before making my way to another frustrating doctor’s appointment. I went into the drive-through and ordered my favorite drink. When I drove up to the window to pay for my beverage, the barista informed me that the driver in front of me paid for my drink and that I was good to go. You don’t know how much that seemingly trifling act of kindness meant to me. You have no idea the impact that you made in my life because of a small kind deed that you decided to do for a complete stranger.

I want you to know that a few weeks later, I paid it forward by covering a meal for a woman who didn’t have enough money to pay for her subway sandwich. When I did this, she looked at me in shock and thanked me. I hope I made her day as much as you made mind with your anonymous benevolence. I wish I could have thanked you in person, so instead I will write to you in this blog. I want you to know that your kind gesture, even though it was several months ago, still means the world to me and that you helped inspire a ripple effect that spread your generosity to others.

To the readers that are reading my blog right now, don’t ever hesitate to do something kind for a stranger. You never know the great impact that a small gesture can make. One pebble can disturb the surface of an entire pond. If you want to be remembered by strangers, showing random acts of kindness can make life long impressions.  

Signed,

A Fan

The sauce for the goose is the sauce for the gander

I watched a Youtube video today about a girl who snaps at her boyfriend at a grocery store over whether or not they had cheese. Although they were clearly acting and it was intended to be funny playing on the theme that, “The woman is always right, even when she is not,” it honestly made me realize how normalized mistreating men is in today’s society. As I sit here and think about the video, I realized that women abusing men is considered perfectly normal, if not humorous, even when it crosses over the border of abuse. If the roles were reversed, the general public would be outraged, not amused. The male is supposed to just “take it” because he is a man and not stand up for himself and say “Don’t treat me like this.” The man is supposed to assume that the treatment is justified because she is either A.) Hormonal, B.) In a bitchy mood, or the best excuse that we give that tops it all, C.) A woman. This doesn’t exactly make men look intelligent or sensitive, and at the same time it belittles women as well.

I remember once while working at my old job hearing a girl insult her boyfriend over the phone. The girls around her encouraged her as she made demeaning comments about his intellect and size of his genitals. Of course the man on the phone “took it” and just said “Why are you so f***ing mean?” Her response? “Because your dumb ass pisses me off.” 

That is one of many examples of “societally justified” mistreatment. The Webster’s Dictionary definition of “verbal abuse” according to Prevention Violence is, “The excessive use of language to undermine someone's dignity and security through insults or humiliation, in a sudden or repeated manner.”

We as women want to be treated equally, so maybe we should start by treating the opposite sex the way that we want to be treated. It is not okay to insult anyone, male or female, angry or not. “PMSing” is not a valid excuse to mistreat anyone.  Neither is throwing your gender in someone’s face for justification of any form of abuse. You cannot expect gender equality and then hide behind a gender stereotype when it is convenient to do so. 

Just because you are a woman doesn’t mean that you have any right to control anyone that you are dating or married like a puppet. You should treat the man that you are with the way that you would want him to treat you. Do you want a man that tries to understand you? Then you should show equal effort to try to understand him. Be the person that you would want to be with. Ask yourself, if you were a man, would you date you?

Just because society gives us women a, “Get out of jail free card,” doesn’t mean we have the right to use it anytime we feel like it. Men are not objects to control, neither are woman. We are all humans just trying to make it by in life. Relationships are supposed to be two people that love and support each other. Not one woman making excuses to use her partner as a punching bag. Abuse is abuse, no matter what gender you were born.