Wanna Be Bodybuilder; Gonna Be Figure Girl

I won’t be your blog slut anymore. That’s right. I hereby refuse to blog day and night. For God’s sake, I have posted almost 50 times since August! Don’t get me wrong; I like writing, and I like you. I like you a lot. But I feel that we are moving too quickly. Look, it’s my fault and I take full responsibility. I am going to slow down and withhold my posts, giving them up only once a week, spacing them out evenly. You will enjoy the anticipation. I promise. I also promise to intersperse my more academic discussions with sillier ones. Since I regaled you with Foucault last week, it is time for a fun-filled romp through the banalities of my everyday life. There. Don’t you feel better? Now dry those salty lady tears and let’s go…     Continue reading

Sensational Multiplicity

One of my favourite books—I have read it about ten times—is Michel Foucault’s, The History of Sexuality: An Introduction. Just when I thought I was ready to move on to Maurice Merleau-Ponty, just when I thought I was out, Foucault pulled me back in. Oh great Saint F, please forgive me for the sin of almost forsaking you and for all the sins I am about to commit. What’s that you say, my haloed master? You command me to go forward in peace and sin some more? You urge me to don a tight leather mask and wrist restraints? Really, oh blessed bald one? What if I also attach a chained lodestone to my body, and hang limply from an overhead bar, feeling the cartilage stretch between my vertebrae? In other words, what if I do weighted wide grip chin-ups because I think they would similarly reconfigure my body.

According to Foucault: ‘We must not think that by saying yes to sex, one says no to power; on the contrary, one tracks along the course laid out by the general deployment of sexuality. It is the agency of sex that we must break away from, if we aim—through a tactical reversal of the various mechanisms of sexuality—to counter the grips of power with the claims of bodies, pleasures, and knowledges, in their multiplicity and their possibilities of resistance.’ Oh yeah. Though the late Foucault recommended S and M practices as one way to accomplish this ‘tactical reversal,’ I think that bodybuilding is another way. Continue reading

Vote and Win a Prize!

I can guess what you are thinking. Where have you been bitch? And why have you tormented us with two lame-ass posts in a row? I know, I know. This one will be less lame, I promise. And I do have an excuse: I was writing Chapter One of my Feminist Figure Girl book, sending it this morning to the amazing members of my writing group so that we can discuss it later this week. I have already warned those brainiac gals that the dinner menu will consist of my diet food, namely bison steak, roasted sweet potatoes, and asparagus. Well, they can also enjoy wine, appetizers, dessert, and bread, while I resentfully sip on lemon water. Can’t wait!

Actually I won’t be at all resentful because my clean eating is already having visible results, and flattering rewards. Two women in the change room at the gym asked me if I was competing this year, and one of them said I looked ‘jacked.’ Oh how I loved that, and soon it might even be true. Continue reading

Random Therapies

I have started this blog with a gratuitous picture of my cat, Coco Divine. Though she looks adorable, don’t be fooled. She is not very friendly, at least not to anyone except me and my partner (and yes, he is the one who named her. I was thinking of something like ‘Butch’ but lost the coin toss). Coco worships my equally furry partner, probably because he brushes her every morning in what we call the ‘love spot’ on top of his Ikea dresser. During this intimate event I make myself scarce in case Coco tries to pee on me. She has been known to squirt angrily on other people. One of her nicknames is, logically, Madame Golden Showers. Other less logical nicknames include Devil Dog, Sweet Baby Jesus, and Cocsatawny Cocs. 

Besides being appropriately self-indulgent for the holidays, posting about my cat introduces the theme of this blog. After all, pets are considered therapeutic. This subject matter is a little lame, you are thinking. You are correct, but I experienced little of note this week and you are stuck with a handful of loosely related observations about therapy in what might be my weakest blog entry. So get ready! According to about.com ‘in the broadest sense, therapy is a term that can be applied to any form of treatment for any illness or disorder. For example, antacid is a form of therapy for heartburn, rehabilitation is a form of therapy for addiction, and exercise is a form of therapy for obesity.’ These days most people immediately think of therapy in terms of ‘the talking cure’ meant to alleviate mental illness, and come to think of it, exercise is another great form of therapy for the mind as well as for obesity. All the same, I will start with ‘slap therapy,’ an activity described to me by a friend who becomes increasingly enigmatic the longer I know him. My nickname for him is ‘man whore,’ mainly because I doubt that he is a man whore, despite his charming ways and best intentions. Just the other day, MW explained that it can sometimes be a good idea to ask a trusted friend to slap you across the face, in a ‘thanks I needed that’ kind of way. Continue reading

Sugar Rush

I am powerless in the face of a shortbread cookie. I look at it; it looks back at me. ‘Don’t eat that you fat bitch,’ I command myself. Then I start bargaining: ‘As a sign of your strong will and self-discipline, you must not eat this cookie. You can have a cookie later, just not this one.’ Soon the Scottish temptation is flying into my mouth and I am savouring my moment of defeat. Wait for it….yeah…an intense wave of pleasure washes over my body Continue reading