Archived Posts from 'Rants and Raves' Category

Boobs are gross??

I’m pretty hormonal right now so it doesn’t take much to annoy me, but the internet is all abuzz with the shocking revelation that Maggie Gyllenhaal nursed her baby in public and had the audacity to leave her boob exposed to the poor, unsuspecting public. Reading the comments at this site (which I really need to stop visiting!) just pissed me off. I couldn’t be bothered to read all 365, but here’s a sampling:

Ewww…not good. She could have covered up a bit with a blanket. I know it’s a natural act but that is pretty tacky. Her tit hanging all over the place is not natural. She should be more conscientious of not offending the general public by being more subtle.

Cramming tits into a push-up bra with just the cleavage showing, that is SO much more natural.

Actually there is something wrong with it. I shouldn’t have to see some woman’s exposed tit while I’m eating lunch, shopping or anything else.

I want to find this person and tit stalk them in order to desensitize them. Somebody needs to do it!

Discusting! I’ve seen women do that before but at least they had the decency to cover their breasts. What a freakin peasant! Yes breastfeeding is natural but so is urinating and defecating, does this mean we’ll catch people doing that in public too? This is what I call no self-respect.

Yes, nursing and taking a shit are clearly in the same category of sanitation and offensiveness. Grown-ups feed in public all the time. I guess they don’t have much self-respect.

OMG!!! I’M SORRY BUT THAT IS SO DISRESPECTFUL!! I don’t care if you have nice tits but please put them away. There is a time and place for that!!! GROSS!!!

This person thinks tits are really gross but exclamation points are fucking awesome. I think this may be an indication of mental illness.

I love tits!!!!!!!!!!

And of course, some people are just thrilled to get the chance to ogle some titties. Woohoooo!

After being subjected to these painful displays of ignorance, I read this and fell in love a little:

Guys are so weird. They love to suck on your nipples, although usually just for a few minutes, and only as an impossibly lame and clumsy substitute for competent foreplay. But then they completely freak out when they see a baby at the nipple, which is what it’s designed for. I guess it’s true - in this country boys undergo forced separation from mommy, so they won’t be called sissy little mama’s boys, and then they spend the rest of their lives trying to get mommy back all to themselves. Explains a lot, including why being a lesbian saves a girl from having to tolerate endless juvenile nonsense.

Thank you, random commenter, for restoring my faith in humanity. And thank you, Maggie Gyllenhaal for having the courage to breastfeed your baby in public without any shame whatsoever. I applaud you.

Filed under: Insanity, Celebrities, Rants and Raves | June 7th, 2007 Comments (1)

I’m confused

I’ve always been just a little envious of lesbians because they are exempt (in theory, at least) from the bullshit that certain men dump on women in relationships, particularly physical abuse. And then I read this. And I just don’t get it.

Ladies, for the love of all things sacred, stop rewarding thuggish behavior! Please, I beg you! Can we all make a pact or something? We will not put out for thugs! I’m so tired of seeing women participate in these stupid games of sexual rivalry. And I’m even more disgusted when beautiful, sexy, talented women compete for the attention of thugs, be they male or female. I don’t really give a shit about their gender. But it really depresses me when it’s women who are the perpetrators of such misogyny.

Filed under: Rants and Raves | April 17th, 2007 Comments (2)

Confession of a reformed Purity Girl

Jessica Gold wrote an excellent post in reaction to Harvard’s so-called “True Love Revolution.” There are a lot of great take-downs on the whole purity movement so I don’t need to echo anything these fine writers have already said. Instead, I’d like to share my story because I used to be one of those purity girls.

Of course, this was well before the advent of Purity Balls and the term Purity Girl didn’t exist yet, at least not to my knowledge. Back then I was simply known as a prude. You see, I was brought up on the fringes of a fundamentalist cult – one of those churches where women weren’t allowed to wear pants, shorts, or bathing suits. Since I was on “the fringe,” as it were, I was lucky in that my parents only enforced the dress code during church events. But then again, my mother had a reputation as a harlot, so it’s no wonder. But I didn’t cuss or even take the Lord’s name in vain, and I certainly didn’t think impure thoughts. I was most definitely saving myself for marriage. I held out for years, well into high school, before my ideology shifted. And I owe it all to one repressed pervert named Peter.

It was the summer of my sixteenth birthday and Peter was living with us at the time. My parents were divorced (that harlot mother of mine, again) and my dad was the sort of guy who was always taking in strays from the church. This particular summer we had two brothers living with us who were distantly related – my uncle’s in-laws from Canada. Peter was tall, slender, and very handsome. He looked a lot like Sting and he was 11 years my senior. He and I had become fast friends upon his arrival. We rode his brother’s motorcycle together on the winding New England roads of my hometown. We went swimming at the public beach after hours (fully clothed!) and explored abandoned houses together. We went canoeing and hiking and had all sorts of good, clean fun.

Peter was brought up in the same church, and since he was a stalwart Christian I never questioned his motives for spending so much time with a teenage girl like myself, nor did my parents. I would have never admitted it to anyone, but I had a big crush on Peter and if he had just expressed his interest in me in a very wholesome, Christ-like manner, I probably would have married the guy.

But that was not to be. His way of showing his feelings for me was to sneak into my room in the middle of the night and jerk off at my bedside while fondling my breasts under my shirt. Like so many other terrified girls before me, I froze. I hoped that if I just pretended to be asleep that he would go away and I could forget it ever happened.

By the time I woke up in the morning I was deeply confused. The events of the night before just didn’t fit in with my perception of Peter, and so I decided that it was just some weird fluke. Surely he wouldn’t try it again.

Well, of course he did. Emboldened by my silence, he was there two nights later with his cock in hand, pumping away furiously, and this time his other hand was bolder. I repeated my previous strategy: don’t move and maybe he’ll go away. It probably didn’t take long for him to get himself off, but to me it seemed like an eternity.

The next morning it was my sixteenth birthday. I don’t remember what plans we had made for that day, but they never happened. I hastily made excuses to visit my mother and tearfully told her the whole story. She called my father and he promptly evicted Peter.* Some sweet sixteen, eh?

Later I received a letter from Peter begging for my forgiveness. He explained that he had committed a terrible sin, but Jesus could forgive him and he hoped that I could, too.

There were two things about this incident that led to my ideological shift. First, Peter betrayed my trust. As I mentioned earlier, if he had just expressed his feelings for me openly and appropriately, I would have reciprocated. And the reason I trusted Peter was because he was a Christian. Hell, even my parents had trusted him. When Peter asked me to forgive him as Jesus had done, I was angry at Peter and Jesus. How dare he expect me to forgive him! How could Jesus let him off so easily?? I resented the fact that the burden of forgiveness and Christ-like behavior was on me. Fuck Peter. Fuck Jesus!

I would eventually learn that I was not the only girl that Peter had molested. He was charged by one young woman (another church member) in Canada for years of sexual assault. He was acquitted based on the usual scenario – his accuser was a slut and therefore her testimony was worthless. Over the years I would learn many ugly truths about respected members of my church. Turns out it was a haven for pedophiles and sex offenders of all sorts. I would learn that my own mother was severely sexually abused starting when she was just a toddler, by members of the church as well as her own family. As you would expect, she was condemned for being a harlot.

It’s no wonder, then, that I just can’t get behind any movement that puts the burden of purity on women, and then condemns “their” women when they are victimized by powerful Christian men. And don’t even get me started on the whole women-as-property mindset, because I might start hurling fire and brimstone.

Let’s just say that that summer was the beginning of the end of my purity girl mindset. It wasn’t until the following summer that I lost my virginity, but I’ll save that story for another post.

*I’d like to point out that I was extremely fortunate regarding the incident with Peter. First, I was old enough to know that what he did was wrong and I spoke up before things got worse. Second, when I reported his activities to my parents they believed me and acted swiftly to remove him from the household. Many girls are not so fortunate.

Filed under: Ruby's Dirty Secrets, Rants and Raves | April 11th, 2007 Comments (0)

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