After years of their mothers shuttling them around, grown children suddenly hate riding in cars with their mothers.
Flicking through FM radio this morning, while driving to the gym, I hear two DJ’s talking about a Twitter survey they had just conducted. “If you had to take a long car ride with someone, who would you LEAST want it to be?” The first nine answers they received were, “My mother.” One tweeter elaborated: because she “always talks at me, instead of watching the road.”
Hey wait a minute…. Real feminists hate babies, don’t they? And what’s up with that nail polish, missy?
I am standing in line for the “family bathroom” at Southgate Mall, waiting to use the nursing chair. Although I am pretending to be relaxed—chatting with the mother of a one-month old son—I am in fact terrified. Are there any feminists about? I scan the crowd for the tell-tale signs of bra-less tits, angry fists raised in the air, and armpit hair. Continue reading
Going for a walk? Count your steps. Going for a coffee? There’s an app to capture caffeine intake. We can monitor our personal activity as never before. The clever wags are calling it “the biometric selfie”. Whatever you call the phenomenon it is clear, we have an itch to count and measure what we accomplish and how we live. Continue reading
Caravaggio, The Incredulity of Saint Thomas, 1602-1602
Yesterday I received an e-mail from some antiabortion guy, asking me to have an expose of so-called “crisis pregnancy centres” removed from the internet. How flattering that he identified me as an all-powerful pro-choice goddess. Continue reading
There were no secret reservations. So many lovely people attended the wedding of my best friend and her beloved. I met a great guy. I spent time with old friends. I made new friends like Dave and Sally. They had been married for seven years. Dave and Sally seemed quiet, somewhat reserved at first and then this gradually transitioned into more relaxed, banter-filled interactions. I usually judge comfort with people based on the amount of shared stories or tagline-jokes. I was a fan of Dave’s because he seemed funny; Sally’s because she said the wrong things at the worst times—and she wore the cutest dress to the wedding!
Imagine my shock when later in the evening I found Dave’s hand on my ass. Continue reading
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