Partyy Lemons 🍋

"Men have no idea what it takes to be a woman. To grin and bear it and persevere."

Yesterday I ran to my cousin's house because she needed someone to hold her after confronting someone who raped her ten years ago. We talked about our experiences and the pain that comes with holding on to the belief that it's our fault; and the trauma that follows the reaction of people we have told our stories to. The people who won't believe us; the people who will spread rumors; the people who watch it happen and do nothing; the people who tell us, "you should never tell anybody that story. I now think of you differently..." My cousin and I were brave last night, because we could be open and honest about our stories without fear of judgment or a negative reaction. We went to bed together and held each other and said, "I'm sorry for what happened to you." And you know what pisses me off so much about this? It's the fact that WE were apologizing to each other, for horrible things that weren't our fault, because other people did them to us.

If you are the kind of person who scoffs at women who freak out when they get cat-called, it's because you have no idea what it's like to fear the opposite sex. Men whine about women who complain that "men never talk to us," then turn around and complain that, "men cat-call us in the streets". Even other women have said, "be honest, you feel kind of good when you get cat-called, because it makes you feel attractive"... FUCK that. No! I do not feel attractive when men follow me down the street just to tell me what I look like. I do not feel attractive when men put their hand in between my legs when I'm standing on the escalator. I do not like it when men grope me in public, grab me by the neck and say, "let's not turn this rape into a murder". I do not feel good when a man calls me a cunt because I turned him down. I do not feel attractive when men hang out their car windows so they can yell, "hey baby, I know you want to take a ride!" I do not feel good when a group of four men look me up and down as I walk to my car alone at night, and holler, "oh baby, the things I would do to you..." or "you know you want this..." The next time you scoff at a woman who retaliates negatively to cat-calling, keep in mind that almost every single woman you know has been sexually assaulted to some degree.

Margaret Atwood said, "Men are afraid women will laugh at them; women are afraid men will kill them." I do not freak out at men who cat-call me because I believe I am superior to them. I freak out at men who cat-call me because I am afraid of them.

Sometimes we need to talk about things that are unpleasant. In order to get past an unfriendly circumstance, we need to face it to allow ourselves to move forward; and sometimes we meet dark times that resurface if we don’t keep tabs on them.

I never thought that I would develop an eating disorder; I don’t think anyone expects their life to end up that way. But, when I was 18 I saw a BBC produced documentary titled, “Super Skinny Me” and that was the hand that pulled the trigger. This film documents two “average-size” British journalists who agreed to participate in a drastic weight loss experiment: drop five dress sizes in five weeks. Both women wanted to understand why women will go to such extremes to lose weight. They go through everything from extreme dieting and master cleanses such as “the lemonade diet” and the “watercress soup diet” to undergoing enemas to lose 4lbs in 15 minutes and diets consisting of “nothing but diet coke and cigarettes”. Both women manage to drop down from a normal size “8” to a double “0” in the five weeks. But at what cost? The psychological effects of forcing yourself to lose such a large amount of weight in such a short time are profound. Both women wind up with many issues as a result of their experiment. One of the journalists almost loses her long term relationship and the other meets extreme concern from her physician who becomes worried that she will continue the weight loss pattern.

A lot of people don’t realize that an eating disorder is a mental illness. A lot of people assume that someone suffering from an eating disorder is grossly vain and in need of attention. An eating disorder goes much deeper than that. Most people don’t realize that an eating disorder usually stems from an incessant need to be in control – I know based on personal experience – but it also comes from another disorder called “Body Dysmorphic Disorder”. This mental illness is described as a manifestation of excessive concern … and preoccupation with a perceived defect of their physical appearance. A person suffering with this will complain of a defect in one or several features of their body, or their general appearance. Often BDD co-occurs with emotional depression and anxiety, social withdrawal or social isolation.

I could recite a bunch of tv shows, articles and documentaries that I used as “thinspiration” – a term used by sufferers to “inspire” them to get to their goal weight. Another secret people should know about an eating disorder, there is never a “goal weight” in the mind of an affected person. Someone with anorexia or bulimia sees a completely altered version of themselves than what the rest of the world sees. It’s just like when you hear the sound of your voice on a recording and it sounds so much different to you. An anorexic will get on the scale one morning and see she’s reached her last goal of “10 pounds less” and she starts right back up to lose another 10, it’s not about shrinking down and looking like a bag of bones, in the mind of an anorexic, there is a level of perfection that can never be reached. It’s an endless battle.  

Eating disorders do not go away. You do not magically recover from it, it stays with you. It becomes a part of you. The choice I made to stay healthy is because I want to keep my relationships and I want to be a mother one day. I am currently in “recovery”, which means that I am not practicing my eating disorder habits, but the thoughts and pressure I put on myself is constant. If you, or someone you know suffers from an eating disorder, please do not turn your back on them. People need to make the choice to change for themselves, but they need help to make that step.

KidsHelpPhone: 1800-668-6868

I recently heard on the news that within seven to ten years there will be a pill available to literally make you shed 10% of your body weight in 3 days. Apparently, you could eat whatever you want and the weight will still melt off. The problem with this? According to the report, the medicine keeps going, and you will continue to shed pounds until you cease to exist. They will have to develop a pill/medication to stop the effects of the weight loss pill. If you can eat all the sugar and fat you want and lose that much weight in such a short time, what will happen to the rate of death by heart disease or diabetes? It would sky rocket. Not to mention, kids are already rooting through their parent’s bathroom cabinets and partake in “pill parties” where they grab any pill(s) they can find, mix them up in a bag and take whatever they pull out. Kids are taking everything from birth control, to Viagra, to Oxycodone and other serious medications. What is to say that kids won’t be rooting around the cabinet and popping these rapid weight loss meds? Here’s a better question, why is there discussion of a magical weigh loss drug becoming a reality quicker than the cure for cancer? Why have we, as a species, become so narcissistic and focused on the superficial?

Right now we live in a world where homosexuality and the rights of LGBT people are debated more heavily than the quality of food in public schools (which, by the way, has lower nutritional value than food in jails). We live in a world where more states in the US legally allow first cousins to get married than same sex couples and celebrities file for divorce after a few months of marriage. We live in a world in which we’ve been conditioned to believe there is a pill to cure everything. A world where the Kim Kardashians and Nicole “Snooki” Polizzis are more well known than last year’s Pulitzer Prize winner. If your child doesn’t have a fully operating cell phone by the tender age of eight, he is considered to be “below average”. Since when do pre-pubescent children need Iphones?

Constant reminders of celebrity diets and workout regimens continue to perpetuate insecurity and low self esteem amongst young men and women. According to the National Association of Anorexia Nervosa and Eating Disorders, “eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any other mental illness”. And “the mortality rate associated with anorexia nervosa is 12 times higher than the death rate associated with ALL other causes of death among adolescent females between 14-25.”

We may not have flying cars parked in our garages or robots campaigning to be the next political leader, but we’re not too far off from an even scarier, darker, and more depressing world than we live in now. We’ve become so consumed with our own lives that we forget about the rest of the world. The rich continue to get richer while the poor get poorer and in due time the middle class will become obsolete. What is happening to our world? What is happening to our own communities and countries? We’ve become a wasteful, resentful, sickening and deplorable species. It’s no longer “survival of the fittest”, it’s become “survival of the richest”.

Two twin-sized mattresses share a king size frame. The first, slightly higher than the other, has one rusty spring exposed; luckily at the foot of the bed. The second shows its age through an inescapable indentation from years of the same person sleeping in the same spot night after night. Two pillows have been violently pushed against the headboard. The sheets lay at the foot of the bed in an almost unrecognizable ball. The off-white comforter lays on the ground, covering a mess of clothes.

The blinds are drawn tightly in a futile attempt to keep out light, and perhaps prying eyes. However, the result is a noticeable lack of fresh air and shadows large enough to disguise reality.

On a scarred nightstand is a fluorescent light that burns to touch, illuminating only the table. Next to the lamp lays an upended picture frame and a standard alarm clock, obscenely claiming that it is nine-thirty. The first drawer is open and the light shines off a torn box of Trojans. The box lays juxtapositioned to a Bible, an older version that still has crisp pages and a price label.

The carpet is a late seventies style shag. From the store it was bright orange with a pile of one inch in length. Now it is a dull orange and much shorter. In some places, the carpet has turned brown from the constant abuse of feet. In one spot near the door a floorboard shows through.

The most interesting parts of the room are the two options by which one can leave it. The first, farthest from the bed, is open into a cool, dark hallway. The second, closest to the bed, drips with moisture. A dim light breaks the continuance of door to floor. The shower is running.

A simple glass door shower has become opaque. A single shadow moves inside, writhing and shaking. The sound of the shower almost drowns out the soft sobs of a woman. The fan whirs and sticks, threatening to stop. It is an overused threat that has become empty.

The water is hot, too hot, making the floors and ceiling impossible to see. Attempts to wash away the mixed scents of sex and self doubt result only in angry red flesh. The shower stops but the figure remains within its prison. The fog clears.

Today my older brother, Benjamin and his girlfriend, Hayley are coming to my place. I am so excited for them to see our place in Indian Arm and to just relax, hang out and have some fun. It’s not often that I get to spend time with my older brother as he’s lived in Toronto for most of his life while I grew up in BC. When we do get to spend time together, it’s a blast.

Benjamin is an amazing person. He is full of energy and so much fun to be with. He is equally as beautiful on the inside as he is on the outside. With such a fun-loving, genuine personality, Ben is passionate to say the least. There are so many qualities he has that I wish I had myself, self assurance, a positive outlook on pretty much anything, and a go-out-there-and-make-your-dreams-happen attitude.

He’s been an actor forever. All bias aside, he is amazingly talented. I had the privilege of seeing him perform in Shakespeare’s King Lear when I went to visit him back in 2008. I had just recently turned 19 at the time and had planned my very first trip away from home by myself. I was nervous about flying and traveling on my own, but it turned out ok. I had so much fun hanging out with him, in his town, having him show me around and being able to meet his friends and colleagues. Ben and I always have fun together; he is just the best older brother anyone could ask for.

When Benjamin is not around, our family out here misses him gravely. Of course we want the best for him and wherever he is happiest, is where he should be. But, we always wish he were here with us all the time. Gabriel and I grew up extremely close and our bond will never change. Benjamin is very close with us as well, on an emotional level, but to be able to see his face as often as we’d like would be spectacular.

You’re begging for someone to fix you; you’re imperfect in your flaws.

I’ve forgotten how to look at you with objectivity; I’ve spent too many summer nights saving you from yourself. I’ve forgotten how to look at your life as a whole; I’ve spent so much time trying to fade that disheartening line between then and now in your own thoughts that it’s become a permanent fixture in mine.

I haven’t forgotten how you looked when you were young, when you had awkward filly legs – all length and no coordination, all excitement and no deliberation.

I haven’t forgotten how you looked when you were happy, when you had a crooked, mischievous smile – all contradictory teeth and invisible dimples.

I haven’t forgotten how you looked when the world was yours, when you had a promise that you wore on your sleeve – all determination and certainty.

I desperately want to forget how you look now that you’ve barely started your life, when you’re callous—all hip bones and scars, all melancholy and cigarettes.

I desperately want to forget how you look when you’re happy, when you have a crooked, scheming smile, when you’re happy due to pain, when you’re happy due to your own massacre.

I desperately want to forget how you look when you fall, when your eyes can’t hold my own, when the only promises you hold are the vodka in your veins and the disappointment in your heart.

She stood still for a moment and closed her eyes, took a deep breath and squeezed them as if she was trying to awake from a nightmare.

No longer did she believe in the idea of soul mates, or love at first sight. But she was beginning to believe that a very few times in life, if you’re lucky, you might meet someone who was exactly right for you. Not because he was perfect, or because you were, but because your combined flaws were arranged in a way that allowed two separate beings to hinge together.

“Here, take your ring back” she said as she pulled it from her finger. Her vision blurred as she rubbed the spot where it had sat for the last three years. The pained look on his face confused her, she gasped, “What?!”

“You should keep it” He said, his eyes never moved from the ring on the floor.

“Why? So I can look at it every day and think of you? If it doesn’t mean anything to you, why should it mean something to me?”

It took minutes for him to move. Minutes that felt like days. “What are you still doing here? I want you out! I mean it. I just want to erase you from my life.”

As those last words left her lips he turned toward the door and a cold wave flooded her heart as an inescapable heat filled her eyes. “I’m sorry” he said as he opened the door and walked out.

The bricks were still red and the mortar held fast. Window panes resisted both wind and rain while the fireplace heated the entire home. The floorboards made no noise and knew not the wear of feet. There were no aromas of past meals, nor pets, nor accidents, only that of new paint and sawdust. And there, out past the white gossamer curtains laid fields of magnificent green grass, which continued as far as the eye could see. A harsh sign on a stake penetrated the soil at the end of the drive, “FOR RENT”. 

Fresh-faced and full of hope, the house became theirs. The smell of paint faded and the warm scent of baked potatoes, and clean laundry took over. Tables and chairs, beds and carpets laid their claim to the once bare floor. Long days she spend rocking in a chair near the window, slowly wearing the finish from the floor. Long days he spent at a factory, but he always returned smelling of the bar. His dirty shoes abraded the floor, wearing them white near the door. 

Red cheeks and a wail to rival a siren became the norm. The rocking chair became her place of refuge, soothing her wailing child. From the chair, past yellowed curtains she could see the unkempt yard. The old smells from the kitchen only tortured their bellies, a constant reminder of days before child. More often than not he returned home late, stumbling and paychecks few and far between. She always wakes when he returns; the floorboards no longer keep secrets. 

There are no more paychecks, only excuses and false promises. False promises do not feed a hungry child, nor do they keep the landlord happy. Walls bear witness to the frustration of fists, while carpets absorb the tears. The only reminder of tables and chairs, beds and carpets, is where the wood has been forgotten by sunlight, and still remains black. Left behind are dirty drapes, a black sooty chimney, and water stains.

“This is the kind of affair to make you dance about.” This is a direct quote from one of my favorite songs, She Holds the Key by Gavin Degraw. This quote also sums up how I feel about my cat, Sturgeon. I am so in love with my furry little man that it literally brings an ache to my heart when I have to stop cuddling with him. I would say this makes me sound crazy, only if I wasn’t the only person that felt this way about their pet(s). Anyone that owns a pet for companionship feels like they are part of the family, as if it’s their own offspring running around with furry faces and 4 legs. I am no exception.

Sturgeon came into my life by happenstance - here is the story:

I lost my kitty Tux (full name: Tux Fluffy Meowington Jesus Christ Superstar!). She was a beautiful little tri-colored tabby that I got for my first Christmas away from home. I’d had several other cats prior to her but none came close to my little darling. Besides the fact that she was strikingly feminine with a tiny body and slender nose, she had an amazing personality. When I first had her, she would sit right on my chest and watch tv with me. She soon grew too big to sit in that spot, but she still loved tv! She also loved weed. If there was any trace of it in the house, she would find it and eat it like catnip. The funny thing was she didn’t like catnip! The only cat I’ve ever known that didn’t instantly drool at the sight/scent of catnip. Beyond those funny little traits, she would come when I called her name and she would greet me with a kiss to the cheek and a soft paw to the face – literally like a caress. She also loved car rides. I swear, she was half cat-half human-half dog. I loved her with all my heart and soul.

The day she left me was probably one of the most terrible. Chad and I moved to a suite in Abbotsford, we had our dog Maddy and Tux with us. The first day was fine, but I let her outside the next morning. She never came back (it literally brings tears to my eyes to think of her). I searched for her everywhere. All day and into the night, for many days, I called her, only to be disappointed when she never came. Naturally, I blamed myself since I should have known better than to let her out too soon after a move. It broke my heart to think that my little baby was stranded, so I decided to believe she wandered into another home and is living a happy life with another family, but I still miss her.

One sunny day in September, Chad called me from his friend, Scott’s house. “Do you want a kitten?” he asks me. Fortunately, I was a stone’s throw away from Scott’s house and sped over there in record time. There were two kittens that were ready to leave home. Scott had been taking care of them, but they were outdoor cats. Both were fluffy and obviously adorable. One was smoky gray and the other was dark tabby. Usually, I would have chosen whichever one was female, but they were both males, so it took me almost an hour to decide which one I wanted. I am a sucker for tabbies and he seemed to like me more than the gray one.

I was most worried about introducing the kitten to our dogs, mind you I wasn’t worried about the dogs injuring the cat, they had already been socialized with other cats, I was concerned the cat would shy from the dogs. I couldn’t have been more wrong. He’s adjusted beautifully to our family.

It wasn’t long before I began to notice a lot of similarities to Tux. He would come when I called his name, he was instantly affectionate and I swear he thinks he’s a dog, too. Since he’s closer in size to AJ, they wrestle all the time, and if you’ve ever seen a cat and a dog play fight, you know that cats are far superior wrestlers than dogs. He wins every time, unless he’s in the mood to “let” AJ win. It’s one of the most hilarious and entertaining things to watch.

I was definitely paranoid about Sturgeon running away, so he is strictly an indoor cat. He has slipped out of the house a few times. Two, or three times he managed to get outside at our old place in Langley. I was too quick to react and grabbed him before he could scale a tree, or get lost. My paranoia for keeping him indoors grew even more when Chad and I moved to North Vancouver. We pretty much live in the woods and there are far too many dogs and various wild animals around for me to even consider allowing him to be an outdoor cat.

The first week we moved in, I thought he got out. I couldn’t find him anywhere and started bawling. Chad found him downstairs, hiding. Sturgeon will run to me every morning as soon as I fill the water bowl, one particular morning he wasn’t coming. So I shook his food bag, which is a surefire way to get his attention. Still, he didn’t show and I realized we had left the window open overnight. I panicked right away, called Chad bawling my eyes out because my baby was lost – how could this happen again?! If I had to gather a search party, I was determined to find him. Finally, I went to the back of the house and saw two little green eyes peering at me from a rock a few feet up. I could see he was meowing but I couldn’t hear him and he clearly couldn’t get to me, because he sat there, waiting for me to come to his rescue. I swore I would never let him out of my sight after that.

He got out one other time when the dog accidentally opened the back door, but there he was, sitting at the back of the house, waiting to be rescued. He is honestly the best cat I’ve ever had; I truly believe he is the reincarnation of Tux. Everything from coming to me every time I call his name, to the way he “caresses” my face, right down to the kisses, the tv watching, and the look in his eyes when I come home from work, begging me to give him a cuddle. Every time he purrs in my arms I just want to hold him forever. It’s official, I am in a blatant love affair with my cat, and I love it!!!

Summer Writing Challenge: Post #1

I’ve been waiting a long time to get my eager hands on a decent set of kitchen knives. Right now, the knives I have at home are all dull. So dull they can barely cut through the plastic on a package of chicken… seriously. It is hard to make beautiful, perfect cuts for recipes when all you have to work with seems to be butter knives in various sizes.

My mother lent me a copy of American chef Anthony Bourdain’s book, “Les Halles Cookbook”. I’ll admit I haven’t gotten very far but I’ve already taken one thing from it: “a sharp knife is a must”… “your knife, more than any other piece of equipment… is an extension of the self, an expression of your skills, ability, experience, dreams and desires. It can also be the most direct and glaring expression of your complete ineptness and uselessness as a cook.” While a tad bit dramatic, it does make sense. You cannot make beautiful cuts with a dull knife. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been chopping an onion and the knife simply flattens it out without so much as giving it a puncture wound. The ONLY positive aspect of having dull knives it that it takes a lot to slice through flesh; but when it does, oh lord, it leaves a pretty nasty gash.

Bourdain goes on to discuss the best quality knives, whether you choose Japanese or German manufactured knives, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is how it feels in your hands, how long it will last and how efficient it is. Proper, decent kitchen knives are expensive. You cannot walk into a store and purchase a good-quality knife set for less than $200. It is also imperative to take good care of your knives. One cannot expect their beautiful knives to stay in pristine condition if they are not properly cared for – which means cleaning and drying after each use and sharpening those babies when they need it.

So, I’ve been looking high and low for my perfect set of knives. I decided I really like J.A. Henckels brand and I’ve been looking for weeks at their selection. They manufacture everything from cookware to cutlery and everything they craft is gorgeous and good quality. I saw a set of cookware for $999.99… a thousand dollars on a set of pots and pans is something I wish I could splurge on, but I have to wait until I get my knives before I can add to my kitchen.

The Bay sells Henckels brand knives and knife sets, so I started there. I found the perfect set for me: J.A. Henckels International Premio 14-piece Cutlery Block set. I am in love with this knife set and what’s even better is they were on sale for $249.99 from $394.99. I printed off the page with the details and I’ve been saving up my money to purchase them, which I planned to do this weekend. Well, to my surprise, I looked at them again online yesterday and they are not on sale anymore!!! Much to my disappointment, I vented to my mother about it. She said we can try to get the Bay to price match with their sales price and see what we can do. Well that wasn’t very encouraging, so I decided to look for the same knife set at another store. Finally, I came to Bed Bath and Beyond Canada. They have the knife set. They also sell it for $199.99 and can ship it to me within 7-12 days! Since I would prefer to just walk out the door of a store with my knives in hand, I am going to challenge the Bay to price matching with this AMAZING price! Whether the Bay sells them to me on the spot at the price I see fit, or if I have to make an order through BBAB, I will be purchasing my knife set this weekend.