And Then There Was One

I'm the lone single woman on this blog, and that likely won't change any time soon. As the lone single (single lone?), it's hard for me to come up with things to write about that don't sound like complaining or that don't dismiss the struggles of the new parent and new wife on here. However, I've recently figured out that, if I think about it, there are a lot of topics within the overall subject of singleness. I just have to, you know, think about it.

Since there are heavy topics and light topics, and since I'm tired and worried about other things right now, I'll start with a lightish topic: isolation.

Really, isolation could go either way, and can be very heavy, but this recent experience with it is more of a "well, that's how it is" moment than a "oh, I can't do this anymore" moment, if that makes sense. I'm currently serving in the Primary presidency of my ward--we are in charge of the Sunday activities of the children from 18 months to 12 years old, and we also concern ourselves (in a limited way) with their home lives. I am the oldest in this presidency and the only single, childless member. The women with whom I serve have all dealt with weird pregnancy issues--one lost multiples because of a uterine anomaly, one has health issues that prevent her from having anything other than C-section births--and they talk about them. That's fine. I think it's good to talk about these things so others know they're not alone and are prepared for the strange things that can happen. I don't really mind hearing about all the blood tests and appointments that come along with high-risk pregnancies (after all, I'm automatically high-risk just because of age) and I don't mind hearing about all the strange and wonderful things that go along with being a parent.

I just feel out of place when the topic moves that direction. I don't have anything but second-hand experience to contribute, and sometimes I get the feeling that my friends feel a little awkward discussing things to which I can't personally relate. I joke that I pay attention and take notes so I can be a better mom someday, but lately there's the mental undercurrent that I may never get to be a mom and the joke is losing its ability to make me feel better about my situation. One night after a meeting, the three of them started talking about hospitals and obstetricians and I had nothing to contribute to the conversation, so I politely excused myself and left.

Like I said, these moments don't make me despair (most of the time...), but they're still a little new and raw. For years I reasoned that I could deal with them because someday I'd be a mother, but now the impending loss of fertility and introduction of menopause are staring me in the face. Not that I'm going to really hit menopause until I'm in my 50s, but I'm almost 40 and my chances of having a child on my own are very, very slim, even with modern medical technology. No one in my family that I know of has had a child past 35. I don't know what to expect, but I do know the odds are stacked firmly against me and I just have to deal with that like I deal with wrinkles and cellulite. Wrinkles and cellulite are just part of life, and there's not much I can do about them, so I try not to get hung up on them. It's the same thing with being single and almost 40; it's literally a shrug of the shoulders and an "oh, well!" because there's not much I can do about it on my own.

It is what it is, and while it feels odd to be isolated in this way, it's not really disturbing or distressing. Most people don't understand, and that's ok. It's not their fault. This is just how life happens, and you either freak out about it and waste a lot of energy, or recognize that it's out of your hands (for the most part) and shrug and move on.

What's interesting, though, is that I almost feel like isolation bubble is protecting me--it's not unfriendly or threatening or sad, it's just different. And if I can't contribute to a conversation, it's ok to excuse myself and be alone in my bubble for a while.

Intelligent or friendly?

It often seems like we either have the choice to be considered intelligent, cold, and distant, or we can be considered warm and friendly. But it's really hard to be considered both intelligent and friendly, especially on a first meeting.

Putting aside for a moment the fact that these types of studies use American college undergraduates/freshmen to generalize to the entire human race (it's using a sample of convenience not a true representative sample, but these studies always use it), there was a study that concluded that we can either be seen has having brains or emotions, but not both. The more of one we have the less of the other we have.

There are of course things they didn't take into account with this study. But at the same time it kind of fits with my dating experience. You're either the smarty nerdy girl that everyone is friends with but nobody wants to date. Or you're the bimbo that everyone dates but nobody cares about deeply.

Darn it all! Why can't we just be the smart, caring women that we are and have people see us for both aspects?

I did however keep my corduroy jacket on while I taught my college class today. Evaluations are coming up.

Why I'm NOT a mom

Unexplained.

That's the one word answer to why.

After trying for a year on our own we were officially labeled "infertile" by the medical community. I'm never one for labels, but that one really hurt. And I've shed several tears about it.

Since the beginning of 2011 I've averaged one doctor appointment a week. Sometimes I get a week off but that generally just means two the following week. Try working your schedule around that. Every week someone is poking something into me - needles, speculums, ultrasound wands. I've actually mastered the art of peeing in a cup now too.

And after all that the answer came back - unexplained. Both of us work great. But for some unexplained reason we just aren't working together.

Every prayer I offer is a plea for guidance, understanding, and peace, as well as children. I've spent nights wondering if I'm not worthy to be a mom, which I know is crazy. I've cried that I can't fulfill the commandment to "multiply and replenish the earth and have joy therein." I feel broken. Even though medically speaking I'm not.

We have told a few people what we are going through, but that number is extremely small. The last thing I need is bad advice ("just relax and it will happen", "just stop trying and it will happen"). The last thing I need is everyone asking how things are going. A few people who need to understand my schedule a bit know just that I have some health issues we're working on.

I've lost my innocence about the miracle of birth. It's no longer something that my husband and I do together. It's something that's going to involve medical equipment and sterile things and more poking. The odds of us finding out we're expecting in the quiet of the morning (with my new found peeing in a cup talents) and being able to be the only people who know and revel in that miracle for a while are pretty much zero at this point. Now it'll be more poking, a blood draw, and a phone call.

We've lost a lot so far. I'm just holding on and hoping I don't lose my faith.

And that's why I'm not a mom.

Pink Princess Palooza

Because there's enough talk about Valentine's going on everywhere else but we should probably say something. Here's something.

Do you know where the word "pink" comes from? I did not. Dictionary.com however wrote a post about the history of the word: Pink. I found it very interesting that pink started out as a verb, and it meant to create small cuts or perforations. Think pinking shears. I always wondered why they were called that because mine are black, not pink. It's also the same shape on the edge of carnations and other flowers of that family, which the word is also associated with. And from that it started to mean the color of the flower as well as perfection, because it is such the perfect flower (despite the line in The Wedding Planner - "I love you but if you use another carnation in my bouquet I *will* deport you, mk? Muah.") And then it became a very popular color and men started wearing pink hose (which HP can't get his head around and is very glad that's no longer the fashion).

The most interesting part to me though was that prior to WWII, baby boys wore pink and baby girls wore pale blue. Interesting, because our culture has done such a 180 on that that small girls are almost coated in Pepto pink from the moment they are expected, before they are born even. Pink, and princesses.

A week and a half ago NPR ran a story about the invasion of pink princesses that I found real interesting - Saving Our Daughters from an Army of Princesses. It is an interview with Peggy Orenstein, the author of Cinderella Ate My Daughter. And it is definitely something to think about. What kind of effect does shoving pink princesses down young girls' throats have on their expectations for real life?

Pink has never been my favorite color. I did have a pair of pink overalls when I was three that I loved, but I loved them because they had pockets everywhere that I could put things, not because they were pink. I had a roommate in college who decided in kindergarten that her favorite color was orange because nobody was picking orange when they were talking about favorite colors. From that decision she actually grew up loving orange and had a beautiful orange autumn themed wedding as a result even. I'm not saying pink is a bad color, one of the three of us here absolutely loves it and I think that's great. But assuming a girl likes pink because she's a girl is not a good place to go.

And what of the princess mentality? I read elsewhere of the marketing genius that was Disney putting all of their princesses together in one package. You can't escape it anymore, they're everywhere. And Tinkerbell, while not an actual princess, also has her whole posse running around now too.

I'm not sure what kind of effect it will have on girls, but what if they grow up thinking that a prince is going to come rescue them only to actually grow up and realize they have to do a lot of their own rescuing? Do they realize that true love's first kiss can often come after years of relationship building and not after just a single glance? If I've ever had a fairy godmother it was my own mom and I who made those types of things happen.

The recent Disney movie Tangled had quite the character for its princess, however none of the merchandise I've seen for it show her with her brown hair after she's grown up, made sacrifices, and possibly lost it all, only with her innocent blonde locks. I think someone who has grown up, made sacrifices and possibly lost it all is a much better model then someone who's only dreamed of life and not actually lived it.

Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day! ;)

Shaving my legs

I've heard of women who, after getting married, kind of let themselves go. They don't shower and get dressed up as often. They stop shaving their legs. Their actions basically say that now that they've snagged a man they don't need to put forth that kind of effort any more.

I was thinking about that recently when I spent one morning exfoliating and making my legs smooth (I use an epilator not a razor) and doing my toe nails and curling my hair. Maybe I just haven't been married long enough so I'm still taking care of those things. Or maybe it's because I rarely did those things for a guy to begin with and my relationship with me hasn't changed. I'm going to go with the latter. (Mostly because the "you'll see" people drive me batty and because I know me.)

Yes when I was going to be on a date or spending time with a guy I would make sure I was looking my best. But it's not like I only shaved my legs when I had a date. If that were the case there would've been several years where my legs would've been au nautural. You've got to have more than just a date as a reason to take care of yourself.

I paint my toenails because I think it's pretty (and because nail polish never lasts more than a day on my hands so I think it's pointless there but it will last two weeks easy on my toes). I shave my legs not because some guy might be feeling them but because I really love how my legs feel when they are silky smooth. HP claims that my legs are always smooth even when I tell him I need to shave them. I've asked him and it's mostly because he's expecting stubble like he gets on his face and with an epilator I never get stubble like that. So if I waited for him to notice I could probably stretch it out for a month. But I'm cleaning up my legs a lot more often than that because I want to do it for me. Because I like it.

My relationship with me hasn't changed because I got married. I still like smooth legs and pretty toes. If my husband also enjoys them, then that's just a bonus.

You're Pregnant!

As near as I can tell (meaning I did a few google searches), it was Dave Barry who said you should never assume a woman is pregnant unless you see a baby coming out of her.

I've always thought it was silly for people to say, "You're pregnant!" whenever a woman expresses that she's having an out of the ordinary day for any reason. That reason might be she's feeling sick, she has a headache, she's had a clumsy morning, she's tired. Okay. I take that back. Because all of those are relatively ordinary things actually. But expressing them will inevitably mean someone somewhere will assume you are pregnant. Never mind the fact that you might not be married or have never had sex before in your life. Do they think they are funny? They must. But what about the woman who wants to be married and having kids and people making such comments just reminding her that it isn't even possible to try yet? I can't imagine it's funny for her every time.

I've long thought that it was insensitive for people to ask a couple when they were having kids. Most people do not discuss their sex lives with others. So it could be that the couple is trying and hasn't been able to yet. You don't know if they've been dealing with infertility for years, or decades. And every seemingly innocent question is just one more reminder that things aren't working the way they want to.

But this week I'm adding "You're pregnant!" to the list of insensitive things people can say. Because this week it just about made me cry.

I was having a blah Monday and said as much elsewhere on-line. Two people made comments assuming I was pregnant. And then today in church a woman came up to me and congratulated me. She had to tell me what she was congratulating me for because I couldn't think of what it would be. She thought I was pregnant. Simply because I was having a blah Monday. Who doesn't have a blah Monday? Isn't that what Mondays are made of?

But the truth of the matter is that on Monday I was pregnant. But today I'm not any more. Physically I'm fine with it. And emotionally I'm doing okay for the most part. We haven't been trying for long at all really. But there was something about having someone congratulate me for something they don't even know we're working for yet (our families don't even know we're trying, just to remove the necessity of telling them every month when it doesn't work. We don't need that pressure), that was a bit much for me today.

People do so much speaking without even thinking about the words coming out of their mouth. I have to remember that (a lot more than I think I should have to). And I'm going to not make it a crusade of mine to stop everyone from making "silly" assumptions. Maybe I can just do my part and do a lot more thinking before I speak.

It wasn't my fault

There is in the news right now the sad story of a young woman who went for a run in a park and instead was raped and murdered.

Elsewhere someone said that this happened because she went running by herself.

Did you catch that? She was raped and murdered because she did something.

Things like that get said frequently in our society and few people ever think of what it really means. It's blaming the victim. It's taking total control and responsibility away from the evil man that did that. It's a symptom of the idea that men are merely sex animals who can't control their urges and so it's up to women to stop them and if the man isn't stopped then it is somehow the woman's fault. It's saying that men have no control, no choice in the matter as to how they act. Do you see how wrong that is?!? Do you see how degrading that is to men?

And yet it is such an underlying belief in our society that rape, assault, and molestation are rarely reported because the woman believes she's to blame. That what happened to her was somehow her fault. If she hadn't worn that outfit, or been in that place, or smiled at that guy, then none of this would've happened to her. Yes, we can avoid dangerous places, but dangerous people don't confine themselves to well labeled places. And no means no. The words coming out of a person's mouth should mean more than the shirt they are wearing.

We are all responsible for our individual actions, including the bad people who do bad things. They have responsibility for their lives just as I have responsibility for my own (and my own is plenty enough responsibility for me without worrying about the lives of everyone around me).

I am a runner. And I will continue to run and enjoy it. And my heart and prayers will go out to those parents right now.

And what happened to me all those years ago. It wasn't my fault. I didn't make him do that. It wasn't my fault.

We're not even trying!!!

HP's family seems to be playing a fun game now. Something along the lines of what-random-thing-can-we-twist-to-assume-Roxie-is-pregnant. I think they get points the more random the association is. We aren't even trying to get pregnant yet! And when I am pregnant, we won't announce it with random associations. We'll most likely just call them up and tell them, kind of like how we did when we got engaged.

So while I've found this great book and would love to talk about it where I'm less anonymous, I can't lest they assume I'm pregnant.

My family, on the other hand, isn't making such assumptions. In fact it was my sister who recommended the book to me. My mom knows we're both reading it, but talking to my mom about it, it seems like she thinks it might be a bunch of quack. But it isn't.

So what is this book? It is a book for every person with a functioning uterus (ie, females between puberty and menopause) who wants to know what is going on when and what it all means and what their hormones are doing. And honestly, what woman doesn't want to understand all that better?

The book is called Taking Charge of Your Fertility. It's used a lot by women trying to get pregnant. It's used by women who are looking for effective and safe methods of birth control that don't involve chemicals or that type of stuff.

But it is also for women who would just like to know what's going on in there. You can use it to track everything uterus related and know exactly when your period will start, if you have an infection or not, if your bleeding is normal or if it's something to get checked out. You can track PMS symptoms and know when they are coming so you can be better prepared to handle them (by stocking up on chocolate).

It's an owner's manual for the female body. I've been amazed at all I've learned reading it, and I've had this body for more than 30 years now. I wish I'd read this book years ago!

But you see, if I were to mention this book in a place where HP's family could see, they'd assume we were using it to get pregnant. Which we probably will at some point. But right now we aren't even trying.

Glowing

It happens all the time in movies and in literacy. The woman walks in. The man looks up and sees her. And time stops. She glows. He's speechless.

The first time I remember this phenomenon was watching the animated movie Anastasia. They go to the ballet and she's all dressed up fancy. He turns from having handed over their coats and sees her at the top of the stairs. And he just stops. She has that look that can stop a man. I wanted to be able to do that.

In the book Memoirs of a Geisha she's told that she won't be ready until she can stop a man just by looking at him. She reaches a point in her training when she's walking down the street and she looks at a man riding past on a bicycle. He sees her, and promptly crashes his bicycle into the nearest cart. She had a look that could stop a man. I wondered if I'd ever be able to do that.

Then earlier this year I was watching the movie IQ with a group of friends. Early in the movie, Catherine Boyd comes into the mechanic shop with her current boyfriend and Ed Walters sees her for the first time. And time stops. And she glows with a heavenly light.

At that scene I made a general comment to the room that I'd like to glow like that for a guy some day. And HP looked at me with a hurt look on his face and said something to the effect of, "some day?"

Did he already see me glowing? Had there already been a moment when he'd looked at me and time had stopped? Why was I not aware that he saw me that way? Why don't guys tell us when we do that? Why can't they make it more obvious and crash their bicycle or something so we know?!

The answers to those questions are probably similar to the answers we'd give to questions guys would ask about why we don't tell them we're interested or whatever other such things guys think about.

But still, it's nice to know that, maybe once, I have made time stop for a guy.

I'm a woman!

There are days when I wake up and I really wish I wasn't a woman. Those days occur roughly once a month. ;)

But there are two things I want to talk about that might be a little TMI, but they make being a woman SO much easier for me.

The first off has to do with that once a month thing. I was cleaning out my apartment to move in with my husband and found a whole box of tampons in the back of a closet and I honestly have no idea what to do with them. And the reason? For more than three years now I've been using a reusable menstrual cup, specifically, the Diva Cup. It's amazing! No more tampons or pads to carry, let alone buy. When I was still dating, it meant I could be at a guy's house, take care of what I needed to, and not have to worry about leaving behind garbage that would make him uncomfortable. It makes a monthly hassle much less of one. You can almost forget you are even menstruating. Which is absolutely amazing.

The second thing that makes me more likely to wake up glad I'm a woman is my epilator. I HATE stubble. And while there is hair on my legs, it doesn't itch at all because I use an epilator. Have you ever been on fresh cut grass? It itches like crazy! It's because the blades have been chopped off and are square. If you let the grass grow normally it will be rounded on the top and won't itch. Same with hair. So because I don't cut it off but rather yank it out, the hair I do have doesn't itch. It does take a bit of time each time I do it. And it takes some time to get used to the feeling. But if you were to add up how much time you spend if you shave daily, it's probably roughly the same. I just do it all at once. Waxing could do the same thing, but I've had a bad reaction to a waxing before. And why pay someone for that monthly when I can buy a personal epilator once and be done with the cost? And for further confidence, I ripped out all the unwanted hair on Wednesday morning before our wedding. And then on the morning of my wedding I did a quick touch-up. And then I didn't bother with it again until we got back from our long extended wedding weekend (so the following Wednesday). And my legs were smooth the whole time. How's that for good?!