of booby crap

This is so…

Awesome, right? I cut him short, swinging my legs up against the wall and resting my behind on the pillow. I’ve heard Madonna used to do headstands when she was trying to get pregnant.

Nope. I was going for awkward.

I frowned. You’re afraid that I’ll become obsessed with this.

Yup.

That’s not gonna happen.

It happened. For the next few days, I read every single website that answered the question how do I know if I’m pregnant. Every single website wanted me to wait until I missed a period, so I modified my search queries. What are the earliest discernible symptoms of pregnancy?

And the answers? Some women provided scientifically verifiable concrete evidence, such as I started having strange dreams and the sex that night felt different and I just knew this was it. Then there were some sites that talked about regular stuff like sore breasts, white vaginal discharge, giddiness, nausea, constant headaches, and lethargy.

I read each blog out to Mister (much against his wishes). He listened with the patience of a two year old. I gave up after two or three days.

Two weeks later, I woke up with a headache so bad I had to take the day off. Later that day, I realized I was leaking white stuff. I told Mister, and we discussed how it couldn’t be pregnancy so soon but secretly hoped it would be. We talked about taking a test, but decided to wait another three weeks just to be sure.

A couple of days later, my boobs were so sore, I wondered if I had sleepwalked into a 50 shades movie. I howled because of the pain every time I got up, sat down, walked or breathed. This went on for about a week. Each of these days I either cried myself to sleep or just passed out from all the pain.

One day, Mister couldn’t take it anymore and confronted me. Take the damn test already.

I shook my head. No, I want to wait until I get something concrete.

He looked irritated. You have something concrete. It’s tied to your breasts and makes you cry all night.

I want to wait until I miss my period or something.

Are you sure?

Absolutely.

The very next morning I was sitting on the toilet seat, holding a pregnancy test I had just peed on. Mister knocked on the door. Baby, you’ve been in there a long time. You ok?

No.

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Hello! Is it me you’re looking for?

Hey there! If you’re a regular reader of this blog, a big hug and a warm welcome to you. You know your way around here, and know what to expect. So you can get on to your business reading stuff, laughing at my expense, and leaving comments that leave me either in awe or in terror.

If this is your first time here, and you found me through a common blogger friend, an awkward side hug and namaste to you. I hope you like what you see here. If however you found me by searching for my first lesben exparance or lesbien expweience, I’m so so sorry to disappoint. This is not that type of website.

I’m not sure I write daughter fuck behild the mother stories either. No, actually I’m sure I don’t write shit like that. And dude, if you looking for tips and tricks on masturbation you may want to try the correct spelling. No it’s not mustrabation, matubasion, or mastuerbation.

And you, dear Deepika Padukone nipslip junkie – I know you’re wondering how searching for deepika padukone showing her boobs at photoshop or deepika wearing colth where find her nipple or dipika open boobs could’ve led you here. Beats me!

And if you were the one searching for thong clad men of tumblr or men jogging in thongs naked tumblr or gay lust imraan hashmi nude, or punished/rape sister/daughter porn videos, I literally don’t even know what to say to you.

Is it strange that over 80% of the search terms for my blog have to do with sex? What are the weirdest search terms for your blog?

of duplicity in a capsule

I picked up the newspaper this morning, and mom nearly fainted.

Newsflash: I do not read the newspaper. The thought of starting my day by reading about atrocities and crimes does not excite me, thank you very much. Unless I’m looking forward to reading some groundbreaking research on human anatomy, I do not ever touch the newspaper. Or the TV remote.

After having reassured mom that I wasn’t losing my mind, (lately everything that I do is because you aren’t able to cope without Mister and therefore must be depressed) I opened the newspaper, and then I nearly fainted.

WP_20141029_001

Talk about double meaning.

Does anyone else find it ridiculous that these guys are selling the Indian version of Viagra without actually once referring to sex? Notice how they talk about the “lasting happiness” in “day-to-day activities”and yet the couple in the picture are clearly being intimate.

Why do you think they would create an ad like this? Is it because the newspaper is something that children read too and they want to downplay the sex angle? Or is it because our society is generally repressed and shy of talking about sex? Also, do these things actually work?

P.S.: If I don’t respond to your comments today, please assume that I died laughing at this ad. Or crying at the state of affairs in my country.

of feminism and checklists

You’d remember that I wrote about an IPS officer’s friendly checklist for women who want to stay safe.

Someone left the following comment for me there, and my response was so long-winded, I thought it might just be better to write a new post.

And then there was the fact that this way you can actively engage in the conversation and tell me what you think.

Here’s what TheKomentor had to say:

Though I can sympathize with the fact that you were injured in an accident, I really don’t find anything wrong with that police list. Those are just common sense instructions that every woman can follow to have a better chance of staying safe in public places. And it isn’t like the police are shirking their responsibilities; they are just saying you can stay safe even without them if you do those things. Of course everyone of us wants the freedom to dress and behave and live our lives the way we want to, but the fact of the matter is that freedom is oftentimes just a word — we, both men and women, are living under limitations, and we are safer when we stay within those limitations. It is like saying I should have the freedom to touch fire, and then blaming others when I get burned.

Let’s talk about her perspective, point-by-point.

I really don’t find anything wrong with that police list.

Take a closer look.

Police

  1. What does he mean by ‘dress decently’? What is less provocative? A saree that leaves my midriff exposed or jeans and a t-shirt? Who is to say rapists will have exactly the same sense of fashion and modesty that I do?
  2. About being well-behaved – should I be greeting potential rapists with my hands folded? Or is he implying that women walk around “inviting” men through provocative gestures?
  3. If I can’t travel in crowded buses/trains, should I be boarding nearly empty buses/trains? Isn’t that what Nirbhaya did? I’m confused. Are you?

Those are just common sense instructions that every woman can follow to have a better chance of staying safe in public places.

Yes. I agree. I proactively do most of the things on that list. These things are not necessarily making us safe, because we do get “eve-teased” in broad daylight and in groups, but I’m with you on this one.

Most Indian women would agree that we’ve been forced to become street smart. We know, just by means of a quick glance, who is looking at us and how. We don’t go to ‘wine shops’, we don’t step out in the dark without male escorts, and we wear shrugs and leggings with dresses when we step out even if at the cost of looking like buffoons. We’re already doing all that.

But we don’t need a police officer to tell us these things. Unless, of course, they are talking to a specific woman who likes to walk around naked and dances provocatively in a crowded bus full of lusty men in the middle of the night, and then asks why she got raped. That woman, my friend, should be the poster girl for this checklist. Do you know her?

And it isn’t like the police are shirking their responsibilities; they are just saying you can stay safe even without them if you do those things.

Ummm… nope. What they are saying is: boys will be boys, and women just have to work around that.

They are making it our responsibility to stay safe. If something untoward happens, the same guy will first ask the victim where she was, what she was doing there at that time of the day/night, whom she was with, whether her family knows she hangs around with boys, etc. More questions will follow, centered around this checklist – ‘what were you wearing’ will be something that will finally make it the victim’s fault.

Of course everyone of us wants the freedom to dress and behave and live our lives the way we want to, but the fact of the matter is that freedom is oftentimes just a word — we, both men and women, are living under limitations, and we are safer when we stay within those limitations.

I disagree. Vehemently.

Just because it’s a bad world does not mean we have to live with it. Things will only get better if we take a stand, and I don’t mean just women.

We ALL have to stop saying these checklists make sense. Because they don’t make any sense because when they come from other people, they’re coming from someone who believes in victim blaming and slut shaming.

I’m not ok with that. I will do what I need to do to stay safe. I don’t need the police to tell me what I should do to not be raped. What I do need them to tell me is what they are doing to keep me safe. See what I mean?

My freedom is just a word until I believe it’s just a word.

It is like saying I should have the freedom to touch fire, and then blaming others when I get burned.

I don’t even feel like dignifying this with a response.


I know, I know, I have got to stop the sermonizing. But I can’t help it. There’s so much going on in our world these days, I can’t be an ostrich anymore. I think it’s time we stopped and thought about how little ‘friendly suggestions’ like this are adding to the gender issues we already have.

What do you think?

Please play nice. Just because you disagree with someone’s views does not mean you have to be disrespectful.

Honeymoon Horror Stories – III

We threw away the old spark plug and a precious couple of hours in Shimla, and left for Chindi. We were both a little tired, our backs aching (mine more than his, thanks to the fucking sprain). But we were just happy to know that we still had the bike and that it was functioning just as it should. Nothing else mattered at that point.

Some might find the road from Shimla to Chindi picturesque, but it was the same as all roads in the hills are. Mountain looming over you on one side, and the depths of hell on the other. Continue reading Honeymoon Horror Stories – III