Tag Archives: identity

The Ethics of Intervention

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The group of mottly New Brunswickers had no coxswain.

That will teach you to laugh at our hats, European bitches! 

Brits sure love to row, I think to myself, flashing back to the televised Heritage Minute in which a group of Canadians win the World Championship in 1867. Oh how the badly dressed fishermen sniggered as their heavy boat slid by the fancy pants team from Oxford. Now it’s my turn to show those weedy coxswain-knockers what’s what. After hunching over musty medical books at the Wellcome Library all week, I cannot wait to work my back. I settle onto a machine at the busy Tottenham Court Road gym—ah, the seat is still warm—turn the tension up to 10, pop in my earbuds, and push through my legs and torso before pulling the bar to mid chest while leaning back slightly. Check that form, baby! My feeling of euphoria does not last long, coming to an abrupt halt when a young woman awkwardly straddles the machine beside me. She is skeletal, her painfully knobby knees and shin bones protruding though a layer of thin skin.  Continue reading →

Wrinkle Power: James Bond as an Endangered Species

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Historian of bourbon.

Historian of bourbon.

”There’s one,” I say to my LSP, pointing to a thin man dressed in a fitted blue blazer. “There’s another,” I nod toward a middle-aged woman with a smart jacket and chunky jewelry. “But I can be even more specific,” I brag in my braggardly way. “See that slightly unkempt fellow with the earnest beard and elbow patches? He is definitely a labour historian.” One by one, I categorize the people entering the Sheraton New Orleans. “Historian of sexuality. Activist environmental historian. Economic historian of the determinist persuasion. Uh oh, check out the disillusioned grad student with recent haircut and sad bow tie.” We both sigh knowingly. Although I too am in town for the annual meeting of the American Historical Society, I am wearing jeans, sensible shoes, and a hoodie, heading out for a tour of the French Quarter. I should probably be fired. Continue reading →

PDDS Goes to Emerg (and then writes about it for FFG)

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Jody front pic7:45 pm
Sitting in the waiting room after a tough legs workout, I am quite hungry. I dig around in my backpack until I locate a well travelled banana. Settling back in the hard chair I begin to peel it, letting my curious gaze flicker around the room, taking in each individual’s appearance, trying to imagine their stories. Unfortunately, my eyes settle on a button-challenged security guard whose pale, hairless chest has been deliberately exposed. He eyes my banana before sending a wink in my direction. Not wishing to make his pathetic porno fantasies come true, I pack up my bag and relocate to the opposite end of the room before continuing my meal. Continue reading →

The “Fat” Female Body (in Pursuit of Happiness)

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598443_10151099828966916_1733465844_nI have a confession to make, and then an apology. Lately, I have been more contemplative than pissy. I have been a honey creative writer, not a honey badger. That sucks for you. The good news is that I am building up to a rant. This post is not exactly a full-on rant, and for that I am sorry. My wordpress statistics indicate that you like FFG best when she is angry. So from now on, I will do more to please you. Tossing thoughtfulness aside, I will curse, swear, and fulminate. After all, I can improve. Or can I? Continue reading →