Bodily Function and Love

So, it occurs to me that one of the markers of true friendship or familial closeness is the fart. Now, of course, I have a mix of family and friends who will alternately be amused or disgusted by this statement, but it's true. Even the disgusted among my acquaintance have to acknowledge that flatulence is an expression of love. Here's why (with examples).

1) I have heard multiple people tell me the story of their relationships and how a) embarrassed or b) amused they were when they (or their partner) farted for the first time in front of the other. But they always end the story by saying how it made them feel closer because they could relax (in more ways than one).
2) My friend and I were on a little road trip last summer, and the topic of indigestion came up. I told some little poop story (as I am wont to do), and she busted a gut. She was actually a little surprised that I talked so openly and joked about that stuff (maybe she was under the mistaken impression that I am sophisticated), but ever since then we have sent little jokes and stories on a similar theme. It's actually made us (already close friends) a little closer. It's just one of those markers of intimacy, in a weird and hilarious way.

3) Another girl came to my grad school department the year after I did. She seemed nice, but we really didn't visit much. One night we had dinner and found out we had quite a bit in common, so we started hanging out more. The day I knew we were going to be good friends was the day she told me about her fart machine and how she and her friends used it to play jokes on people during their cruise. When I reacted with great amusement, she was a little surprised and glad. She told me she wasn't sure if I would think it was funny. Once I declared it so, she and I became great friends and have shared lots of laughs about bodily functions. It was farts that brought us together. Awww.

4) My family has had fart contests and laughed at poop and fart jokes since I can remember. This includes my immediate family as well as my dad's extended family. And it gives us a kind of camaraderie and sense of fun whenever we're together. You can bet at least once when we all gather someone will make a joke that splits our sides. I can't imagine being in a family that couldn't laugh about that kind of thing.

So there you have it. Eleven years of college, and a Ph.D. in interpersonal communication, and my contribution to the study of relationships=the fart as a marker of intimacy. I'm living proof of the power of poofs (though not in the British sense...look it up).

The Revolution Inside

I've been on my Weight Watchers "diet" now for about seven weeks, and have lost 15 pounds. This, obviously, pleases me greatly.

But the fact is, it is hard for someone like me to admit I needed help from an outside source, and even more difficult that it comes in the form of what is basically a support group. I am smart enough to do this on my own, and I've read all the stuff that tells me what one should eat and not eat...but for some reason I really needed the structure of a program and a weekly routine of weighing in to motivate me to do what I knew I needed to do.

On the positive side, though, the program has really highlighted for me how to balance my food intake. I had heard all the gunk about how if you're going to a party eat light earlier in the day. Blah blah. I never listened. But now I find myself planning a little bit better so that I can enjoy party food without ruining anything. The past three weeks have had regular social events where unhealthy food was served, and I found myself automatically thinking through how to account for that in my day. Eat a salad with vinaigrette for lunch, eat an apple, eat a smaller sandwich...whatever it takes so that I can enjoy some junk later in the day. Similarly, at Thanksgiving, I tried to fill a good portion of my plate with vegetables so that I would be less tempted to overload on cheesy potatoes and corn. It worked, and I left feeling comfortable and happy. I ate my cheesy potatoes and corn, but I didn't overdo it.

And the really miraculous thing about this is that I now think this is normal and reasonable, if I think of it at all. I am not feeling left out of anything, nor am I feeling intense longings to gorge on junk. Maybe I'm still in the honeymoon phase or something, but I really, for the first time in my life, feel like I have a grasp of what food is supposed to be doing in my life rather than seeing it as a pastime. Food is not just about pleasure...it's about pleasure AND health. I still enjoy my sweets and eat pizza from time to time--I ate two crab rangoon on Monday night, guilt free--but just in a better proportion to my other, healthier foods. This is revolutionary. Simple, but revolutionary.

Temptations

I wish someone would explain to me why I decided to buy four boxes of Girl Scout cookies awhile back. Because now I have four boxes of Girl Scout cookies sitting in my house, and each friggin' cookie is two points on my Weight Watchers diet! That's ridiculous.

I just ate one, and I took the tiniest bites ever to savor it. This worked for the first cookie, but I am not sure this will be enough in future. Soon the overpowering deliciousness will take over and then...boo.

Since the end of October, I'm down 13 pounds, which is great (I even lost over Thanksgiving week! Heck yeah!). I have to keep up the hard work and not surrender to the evils of cookies.

Year Two

I've been absent on my own blog. It's mostly that year two of professorship has been more overwhelming than year one, so there's been yet another learning curve. Someday I will learn that the learning curve is like a rainbow that has no definite beginning or end, but just an ongoing arc. The harder you look for the end, the further you get from it and the more frustrated you become. So I guess that means this year is about another lesson in chilling out and letting go of control.

But the problem, of course, is that control is my obsession. So that's going well.

Anyway, the purpose of this entry is to appease my mom and aunt, both of whom have asked why I haven't posted in a long time. Now I've posted again, and I will try to do what I can to become a regular writer again. I miss ranting. :)

Why I love Kurt Vonnegut

"Trout, incidentally, had written a book about a money tree. It had twenty-dollar bills for leaves. Its flowers were government bonds. Its fruit was diamonds. It attracted human beings who killed each other around the roots and made very good fertilizer. So it goes." (From "Slaughterhouse-Five")

I may not be writing much on my blog, but with stuff like this out there, how can I possibly compete anyway?

Sexism from 100 years ago

I use the following song in my gender communication class, and it always amazes me. A mere 100 years ago, it was hilarious (HILARIOUS!!) to suggest that women were capable of being independent, authoritative human beings. The very idea of women trying to wear pants (PANTS!!) was downright hysterical. Uh-oh. I probably shouldn't use that word. Why, you ask? Look up the etymology of the word: hysterical (HYSTERICAL!!).

Meh. So, the good news is that we're a lot better off than we were 100 years ago. But, by the same token, I continue to hear similar sentiments today. About the guy who doesn't demand his way or the highway: "Well, I guess we all know who wears the pants in that family. Hardy har." (HARDY HAR!! That's backwards. Haha!) The woman who hints at aggression is a ball breaker. The man who hints at aggression is a man (MANLY!!).

Here's the song, in all its hilarity. It was recorded in 1909 by the delightfully charming Billy Williams, and was written by a fine, swell, upstanding gentleman named Charles Denton. Here's to you, aholes.

Travel Yin and and Yang on Crack

I love to travel, so the past two weeks have been nothing but chaotic pleasure. I went on a cruise with a friend, and had more fun than is recommended by the Surgeon General. I got to snorkel, eat delicious meals (each and every dessert contained Grand Marnier liqueur--ooh, lala!), have relaxing visits on the balcony of our suite overlooking the bluest water I've ever seen, and so on. It was a relaxing trip that never stopped moving...literally (the boat pretty much always moved and when it did, I got off it!) and figuratively (I was on non-stop sight seeing mode).

Then, of course, I jetted off to NYC for a few days immediately afterward and spent six days wandering around, and bussing around on a guided tour. I saw all the big spots and several smaller spots. I spent too much money on food and stuff I didn't need. I saw the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, Central Park, and so on and so on. I wore out my sandals from walking. I saw my first Broadway musical.

So, that pretty much sums up my idea of heaven. Stuff to see and do every day for two weeks.

If only it weren't for the airlines, which were required to make it possible. A flight delay from Florida (the weather's fault, I grant you) meant, I got to Des Moines at 11:30 pm on Monday. My flight to NYC left La Crosse at 5:20 am on Tuesday. Five and half hours between flights, and a four hour drive from one place to the next. So, I drove like a madwoman from midnight to 4am, repacked and left my house again at 4:15am to get to the La Crosse airport again. All things told, I ended up being awake for 36 hours.

Then, coming home last night, we boarded the plane just a few minutes late (at 6:30pm). Great. But it was raining with lightning, so we had to wait to leave...along with all the other planes at La Guardia, leading to a major traffic backup. At about 7:30 or 8pm, we were about to pull away from the gate when another storm blew in. So we sat. Then we sat on the runway for awhile. We finally took off about about 9:40pm...more than three hours after we sat down on the plane. That's later than the time we were supposed to land in La Crosse.

And, as luck would have it, we missed our connection, which was the last flight to La Crosse for the day. So we got sent on a fool's errand around the Minneapolis airport, being misinformed by one Delta airline representative after another about our options for sleeping at the airport till our plane left at 10:00 the next morning. We were told there would be pillows and blankets as well as mats. Then that there would only be mats. Then we argued a little more and they finally coughed up some crappy, useless pillows and blankets. We found a supposedly quiet spot to sleep, but there was construction and cleaning crew noise all night. Fortunately, we got out of there on time this morning.

Airlines can't help the weather, but honestly. What a nightmare flying is. My love for travel is equally as strong as my hatred of flying...so what's a girl to do, really?