Today I had the opportunity to do something that I would normally not have the chance to do. I spent my day at Channahon Junior High listening to veterans speak about their military experiences and answer questions from students. It was one of the most powerful days I’ve ever had.
I was proud as a peacock this morning when I arrived at the junior high accompanying my uncle Stanley who served two tours in Vietnam. I learned a lot about my uncle today. For instance, I learned that he was at Hamburger Hill. I remember watching that movie for a class I took in college (Vietnam in Film and Literature — probably the best class I ever had). I was surprised to learn that someone I know and love would have first-hand knowledge as to the authenticity of that film. He. Was. There. Suddenly, that movie became more than a movie.
The kids spent time preparing questions in the class periods before today. One of the questions that came up had to do with the way Vietnam vets were received when they returned home compared to the way vets are received now upon their return home. One thing that struck me was how apparent it was that the Iraqi war vets felt angered that such an injustice was paid to their fellow veterans. It was written on their faces and loud and clear in their voices. They could not express enough how utterly wrong it was that servicemen returning home from Vietnam were treated so deplorably. Then my uncle told a story. He said that four years ago on a family trip to Minnesota, he was stopped by someone who saw the hat he was wearing — his 101st Airborne Screaming Eagles baseball cap. The person shook my uncle’s hand and told him thank you for his service. My uncle Stan said that was the first time anyone had ever thanked him. My heart fell to the floor. Four years ago was 2010. He left Vietnam in 1970. That’s 40 years. In 40 years, no one had ever shook his hand and acknowledged the sacrifices he made in his service and sense of duty to this country. I was speechless. Now that I think of it, I’ve never thanked him for his service. So I will do it now and I will do it the next time I see him. That being said, I got choked up seeing the students come up to my uncle and all the other visiting veterans after each class and shake their hands and say, “Thank you.” I could see on every one of their faces how much that small gesture means to them.
One of the visiting vets, a Marine, told a story about being in Iraq for their first democratic elections. The roads were closed for security and he was on patrol when he saw a man coming up the road pushing a shopping cart. In the cart was the man’s father who said that he was old and didn’t expect to live much longer but he wanted the opportunity to vote like a free man. So his son did the only thing he could do. He brought his father to vote. They couldn’t come in a car and they lived far away. He pushed his elderly father in a cart for miles and miles and miles for the opportunity to cast his vote. Again, this story made my heart stop. I shook my head and marveled at the lengths to which these men went to cast their vote, and I also marveled at how easy it is for people in this country to skip voting because they don’t like the weather or they’re too busy or they just don’t want to go vote. My God. We need to see our ability to vote like that old Iraqi man. We should be willing to walk miles to do it, or ride in a shopping cart the whole way if that’s what it takes.
Lunch was catered in for the visiting vets as well as the staff. As I was eating my lunch, I looked around and saw all these representatives of the military talking with the teachers over lunch, and I thought how incredibly fortunate we were to have a private audience with these brave and dedicated men and woman (we had only one female vet today). We got to sit elbow to elbow with these heroes and hear their stories. It was magical. I’m not being overly dramatic — it truly was.
As we come up on Veterans’ Day, let me say from the bottom of my heart — thank you to all those who have served our country, and thank you to those who are doing it right now. I can never find words enough to express my gratitude. Please keep sharing your stories because I feel like I am a better citizen because of what you teach me.
So I just saw this article on “skinny shaming“. As a plus-sized woman, I suppose I should agree with the spirit of the article. I know how it feels to be made fun of because of appearance or body size or body shape. I know it is absolutely wrong to judge somebody based on only what the eyes can see. But when someone gets all bent out of shape because some skinny girl is being picked on, I just have a hard time mustering up any sympathy.
For decades, the skinny girls have been considered pretty just because they are skinny. It’s nearly impossible to be pretty and fat. The skinny girls don’t get looks of disgust when out in public, especially at a restaurant. They get looks of approval and envy. The skinny girls don’t get insulting comments about breaking furniture or how much they eat. Nobody says things like, “Save a whale; harpoon a skinny chick.” Nobody has a bumper sticker on the back of their car that says, “No skinny chicks.” The insults to overweight women are plentiful, and the insults to skinny women have only recently begun as the fat chicks are sick of being told they are inferior. The fat chicks are tired of telling the skinny chicks that they’re not fat when they whine about eating a whole half a sandwich. The fat chicks are tired of making the skinny chicks feel good about themselves while nobody bothered to make the fat girls feel good about themselves. The fat chicks are in revolt and lashing out from years of marginalization.
I don’t care if the skinny girls have their feelings hurt right now. I’ll care later. I’m still too busy trying to convince myself that it’s okay to feel good about myself despite being overweight to convince the ones who are socially acceptable that their struggle is equal to mine.
I’m sure that makes me one horrible human and a really crappy woman. Add that to the list of other faults I have related to being fat.
I believe in gay marriage and gay rights. I think people who are gay have not made a choice to be gay. I don’t think there is any valid religious argument against homosexuality. Gay rights are civil rights. And while on the topic, yes, there need to be laws in place to enforce said civil rights. Anyone who says that discrimination doesn’t exist based on age, gender, skin color, sexual orientation, religion, ability, or ethnicity is a damn fool. Until there can be some sort of blind hiring or application process or we can make the human race prejudice-free, there’s gonna have to be some backup provided for those who need it.
I have no problem with concealed carry laws. I don’t think there will be an appreciable rise in gun crime because of it. The people who commit crimes with guns don’t care about following gun laws. In fact, I think most gun control laws are fluff.
I am sickened by abuse of systems that are designed to help people who really need the assistance. There are people who are using food stamps to buy party supplies and people who actually like collecting unemployment because they are lazy jackasses. Those kinds of people, the ones who abuse the system, piss me off. But I also know there are people who really need the assistance out there, so I’d prefer to err on the side of mercy (or stupidity, if you prefer to call me that) and give to all instead of give to no one.
I don’t think people should be entering this country illegally. If they get caught, they should get deported. I know they are often coming from much worse places than they find here, but back you go. But the kids that are coming here illegally, that’s a messier situation to deal with. Letting them all stay probably isn’t the answer, but then deporting them all back probably isn’t, either. I don’t know the answer for that one. But one thing I must say is that I don’t want to hear arguments about how illegal aliens take jobs away from Americans. I find that hard to believe. It’s not like we have mass amounts of college educated people overrunning our borders to get those sweet IT jobs or mid-level management positions. They are unskilled laborers working at low-paying, physically challenging jobs that Americans don’t want. When was the last time you saw someone with a marketing degree who lost his job due to corporate downsizing work as a busboy at your local pancake house because that was the only job he could get until he found one in his field?
Medical care in this country is a joke. I know people who have serious medical issues that need to be dealt with but they simply can’t afford them even with their mandated insurance. They can’t afford the co-pays, they can’t afford the cost of procedures even after insurance, they can’t afford the time off of work. So they suffer and get sicker. That is messed up. Obamacare in theory sure sounded like a good idea, and I personally know some people who have benefitted from Obamacare. But the system was broke, Obamacare attempted to fix it, and it’s still broke. Nobody, and I mean nobody, rich white CEOs and homeless heroin addicts included, should have to go without medical care in this country. Sad thing is, the rich, white CEOs and the homeless heroin addicts get all the medical care they want. They’re rich enough and poor enough. It’s the people stuck in the middle who are getting screwed; THEY’RE the ones who really need to get their damn medical care without having to wonder if they’re worthy.
I would call myself pro-life and pro-choice. I’ve never been faced with having to decide if I should terminate a pregnancy or carry it to term, but I’ve got the feeling having an abortion would be a tough sell for me. But that is a choice I make for myself and I won’t put that on anyone else. Every woman has a different body and different circumstances surrounding how she got pregnant and what her life would be like after having the baby. I prefer letting women make the choices for themselves. However, if I could have things my way, I’d say unless there are significantly extenuating circumstances, there would be no abortions allowed after the first trimester. I would also provide free birth control to men and women, including to teenagers without their parents’ consent, and I’d make sex education in this country comprehensive. Goodbye, abstinence-only “education”.
I don’t think I’m pro-death penalty. It seems barbaric somehow. We can’t seem to find a good way to kill people efficiently. It is also not even close to a deterrent for crime. So I say no death penalty. But I might like the idea proposed by someone close to me — virtual death. Commit a death-penalty-worthy crime, finish your appeals process, then when it’s done and you’re still on death row, you’ve got 30 days to get your final affairs in order, say goodbye to your loved ones, and then you are locked away and not allowed contact with the outside world. No television, no radio, no internet, no phone calls in or out, no letters in or out. In fact, at the end of the 30 days preparation time, your family will receive your death certificate. You’ll have clothes to wear, eat good food, have books to read, be able to go to class, all sorts of nice things. You won’t be thrown in solitary for the rest of your life and given bread and water. This, to me, sounds like a helluva punishment. It’s not so great to live when the world thinks you’re dead.
I’d love to see this country either annihilate the Middle East or just stay the hell away and let them all kill themselves and each other. We keep trying to make democracy happen in countries that are theocracies and have no interest in equality in any way, shape or form.
I’m not sure that those who are wealthy really need to pay more taxes. What I DO think is that the loopholes that exist that allow those who are wealthy to evade paying their fair share of taxes or hide their money need to be closed. I’m fine with the, “I earned the money to buy this ball and it’s MY ball and I don’t have to share it with you,” mentality (because that’s oftentimes the attitude of those who are wealthy, usually presented with close to the same amount of maturity, just short of sticking out a tongue). Let the wealthy buy their ball and not share it with anyone. But if you’re wealthy enough, maybe consider finding some organization that buys balls for people who really need their own and donate to them so other people don’t try to play with yours. If the wealthy don’t want to rest of us thinking of them as petty and greedy, stop looking that way.
I kind of like Bill O’Reilly. He makes sense a lot of times, and he’s a smart man. I can’t stand Ann Coulter.
I have always considered myself a moderate or agnostic when it comes to politics. I have never, ever voted a straight ticket and don’t ever plan to do so. I’ve never labeled myself a Democrat or Republican or anything else. I’m just a voter. But in the past decade or so, it seems that’s not allowed. You have to be one or the other. I know I tend to lean liberal, especially on social issues, but I tend to get pretty pissy when the government tries to butt into everything. Government involvement rarely does anything but make bigger messes. I hate that I can’t just be; I have to be something. Because I tend to lean liberal, it is assumed I am radically liberal because moderation simply can’t exist anymore. I’m not a liberal. I’m not a conservative.
I was very conflicted during the last Presidential election. I had voted for Obama before and, dissatisfied with what I was seeing, wasn’t sure where my vote needed to go when he ran for re-election. So I worked hard to learn. I watched every debate. I even took notes and developed a system to see which candidate I seemed to side with more (Jim said I really “nerded up” the debates). I read the Republican, Democratic, Libertarian, and Green Parties platforms and took notes. I followed the Democratic and Republican parties on Twitter as well as Fox News and Daily Kos (much like on my education Twitter account I follow Michelle Rhee and Diane Ravitch). I filled my brain with polar opposites and cast my vote. I refuse to disclose who I voted for because if I voted for Obama, I’ll be ridiculed by my friends and family who are conservative. If I say I voted for Romney, I’ll be ridiculed by my friends and family who are liberal. If I voted Libertarian or Green, I’ll be ridiculed by everyone for voting for a candidate who can’t possibly win. If I voted for no one, I’ll be ridiculed by everyone as being un-American.
I refuse to call EVERYONE who is liberal an idiot. I refuse to call EVERYONE who is conservative and idiot. I prefer to call out the idiotic individuals (have you seen my Michele Bachmann posts?) rather than denounce an entire group of people. I do tend to lump all Tea Party adherents into the idiot category, I admit, but I need to see one Tea Party figure who isn’t an idiot to stop that mass generalization. When I find him or her, I’ll let you know. Not everyone is like that, though. So for those of you who care (which I’m betting isn’t many), when you call an entire group of people names, you might be including me and insulting me. And trust me when I say I AM taking offense.
I am sick of mean kids. Being a teacher, I see it more often than I would like to. I see kids of all ages call other kids names or make fun of other kids. I see girls tear apart other girls over their clothes or round up a gang and exclude a girl, reducing her to tears and laugh about it.
I am sick of mean adults. Adults who look down their noses at others because they don’t make enough money or live in the right ZIP code or wear the right labels on their clothes are nauseating and crappy role models for their kids. I am tired of having to hide who I vote for in elections or what I do for a living or how I feel about social issues for fear of being attacked by total strangers or, even worse, by people I know.
I am tired of internet trolls, people who talk out their asses online under pseudonyms and have nothing productive to say. Sadly, social media has given every jackass in the free world a platform to spew their hatred and misinformed opinions as fact.
In case you’re thinking I’m being hypocritical because you’ve been around me in my snarky moments, I would say I’m really not being a hypocrite. Everyone is mean at times, myself included. But I don’t idle at mean. I’m not malicious at heart. I don’t go out of my way to make people feel small. I try to be open-minded about people I meet. I try to respectfully disagree when I find myself in a discussion with someone. If I have something snarky or gossipy to say, I keep it to myself or a very select audience, like my husband who, by the way, can balance me out nicely at times since he tends to be very Pollyanic about people. When I am feeling mean, I try not to let the whole world see my meanness. A little over a decade ago, I was a hateful person. Hate consumed me. I was miserable to be around and I was exhausted. I decided not to be like that anymore. So when I feel myself being overtaken by negativity, I remember how black it makes me inside. So no, I’m not being a hypocrite. “Mean” is not a personality trait I have.
But I am sick of the mean people, and calling them out as mean doesn’t help. In fact, it seems to invigorate them, like it’s a badge of honor to be mean. So I guess I will just whine about it here while the mean people carry on.
Saw this on Twitter this morning. A parent was arrested for disorderly conduct at a school board meeting where he was protesting a book his daughter was reading. Let me get this out of the way first — I think having this man arrested was ridiculous. There is certainly a news story in his arrest because of how utterly ludicrous it was to arrest him. That being said, I wish that someone (and I know damn well it won’t be Fox News despite how “fair and balanced” they are) would pick up the sub-story, which is censorship.
The novel being questioned, Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult, is one of my favorite books. It is the first book I read by her and it knocked the wind right out of me. As a teacher of junior high aged students and as someone who is active in the anti-bullying work in my district (for me, specifically I work on cyberbullying education), I was riveted by the topic of the book and the issues it raised. It is a great companion book to another novel I loved the moment I read it, Give a Boy a Gun by Todd Strasser.
Nineteen Minutes is a book written for adults; it is a mainstream novel. Give a Boy a Gun is considered a young adult novel, written more for teens. I’m not sure there is an agenda in Nineteen Minutes beyond realizing that there are always many facets to any story; there is a clear gun control agenda in Give a Boy a Gun. I taught Give a Boy a Gun to my 7th graders for many years; I did get parental permission because I was working with 12 and 13 year old students. All parents except one allowed their children to read the book. When I taught my own daughter in 7th grade, she read Give a Boy a Gun. Until I started teaching the novel House of the Scorpion by Nancy Farmer, Strasser’s novel was the students’ favorite and it generated some of the best discussions about bullying I’ve ever had with students. I suggested to many of my students who got a lot out of reading Give a Boy a Gun that they read Nineteen Minutes, but I also cautioned them that it is a grown-up book and that they shouldn’t read it of their parents preferred they didn’t read adult books yet. Because remember, I was dealing with 12 and 13 year olds.
High school kids are a different breed. Many controversial books with adult content get read in high schools because the novels have value and worth in their theme or purpose. Just check out this list of the most challenged books of the 21st century. High school is where social consciousness in students — who happen to be on the brink of adulthood — really starts to flourish, and reading novels that raise awareness of issues helps this social consciousness develop. Nineteen Minutes is definitely a book that can help students become more aware of themselves and their behavior and their treatment of others as well as find ways to help others who need some care, concern, or assistance.
I’m betting neither Megyn Kelly, Trace Gallagher, nor the parent at the board meeting bothered to read the entire book. Instead, they chose to focus on page 313 and take that one page and that one snippet from the scene that is on page 313 and castigate the entire book. In fact, Gallagher encourages people to read just that one page and make their own judgment on the value of the content of the book. Why should I be surprised that people are so willing to lift something small from a larger work and take it out of context to twist it to fit their own personal agenda? People love doing this.
If the student wants to opt out of the book or the parents want their student to opt out of the book, I’m betting the teacher would be fine with that and come up with an alternate assignment. That’s what I did for the one student who wasn’t allowed to read Give a Boy a Gun (my favorite thing about that incident was how the parent told me what a dreadful, harmful mother I was for allowing my own daughter to read such filth). I have no issues with opting out; however, I would have had an issue if that parent wanted to remove the book from the curriculum. This makes me think of what Captain Beatty said to Guy Montag in Fahrenheit 451:
“Colored people don’t like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don’t feel good about Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Burn it. Someone’s written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book. Serenity, Montag. Peace, Montag. Take your fight outside. Better yet, into the incinerator. Funerals are unhappy and pagan? Eliminate them, too. Five minutes after a person is dead he’s on his way to the Big Flue, the Incinerators serviced by helicopters all over the country. Ten minutes after death a man’s a speck of black dust. Let’s not quibble over individuals with memoriams. Forget them. Burn them all, burn everything. FIre is bright and fire is clean.”
Let’s get rid of anything that offends anyone. Once we do that, there won’t be anything left to read.
Here we are, at the end of the alphabet, and what better way to celebrate than with a drink?
My friends the Millers that I referenced in my post for the letter M introduced me to the bloody mary mix that changed my life — Zing Zang. I’ve always enjoyed bloody marys, probably because I love the stuff that garnishes a bloody mary — anything and everything, including pickles, celery, olives, shrimp, bacon, Slim Jims, beef jerkey, pepperoni.
Many, many years ago there was a restaurant in my small local town called Curly’s, and beside being known for their huge, delciious Curly Burger, they quickly became known for Jerry’s bloody marys. Now, I know some will debate this, but Jerry taught me the importance of vodka in a bloody mary. He told me that his bloody marys were so good because he was using a better vodka. I had always had my bloody marys with Smirnoff (which I personally do not care for); Jerry was making his with Absolut. Some people say the vodka doesn’t make a difference; I say oh, hell yes it does! Absolut is the “lowest” vodka I will drink now. Left to my druthers, I’m drinking Belvedere; after that, I’ll take Ketel One. I spent years thinking a bloody mary was all about the vodka.
Until the Millers talked about Zing Zang. This is one delicious bloody mary mix! No need to create your own homemade concoction — it won’t beat Zing Zang! No need to doctor up the Zing Zang — except maybe a little extra olive juice if you so crave (like I do). This mix is awesome on its own with a good quality vodka. I am pretty much to the point where I just can’t enjoy a bloody mary unless they are using Zing Zang to make it.
Celebrate the end of Blogging A to Z and the end of April with a tasty bloody mary — and maybe wash down a few oysters while you’re at it! Cheers!
I know I’ve written about this before, but I think it’s important enough to write about again. I heard a news story this morning about the newly launched website Not Alone: Together Against Sexual Assault. I am not the least bit interested in any kind of debate about the good, bad, or otherwise of the federal government being behind this site, so keep those comments to yourself. In the report, a startling statistic was offered: 1 out of every 5 girls is sexually assaulted in college, often by someone she knows and most likely in her freshman or sophomore year. Mix that with the recent story about Harvard telling a student/victim of sexual assault to forgive her assailant (also a Harvard student) and the other recent story about the sick culture of rape surrounding an unofficial yet unchecked fraternity at American University, this mom of a daughter finishing her sophomore year of college is pretty freaked out.
So as I mentioned in a previous post, I’d like to reiterate that if you’re a guy who wants to have sex with a girl, the only way it is okay is if she offers an unencumbered “YES”. That means she’s not drunk, high, or otherwise incapacitated wither by her own doing or anyone else’s. That means she is fully conscious and aware of what she is doing and what you are doing and of her surroundings. That also means that if at any time whatsoever she changes her “YES” to a “NO” you must stop. I don’t care how good it feels. I don’t care how backed up you are (I love that ridiculous “excuse”). “YES” means “YES” unless it becomes “NO”. And “NO” is always “NO”. It doesn’t become a “YES” if she is coerced or cajoled into sex. It doesn’t become a “YES” if she doesn’t say “NO”. It doesn’t matter how the girl is dressed — or if she is dressed at all. A naked girl on your bed saying “NO” to sex doesn’t mean “YES” because she’s naked and on your bed. It doesn’t matter how much or how little alcohol the girls drinks. Sex without a direct “YES” is sexual assault/rape, and at that point it isn’t even about sex. Now it’s about the power and control the guy has over the girl. The sexual act is the weapon used to harm.
And while I’m on my soap box, more men need to speaking out about this. Too many people discount this issue when women talk about it — they see it as sour grapes or some other nonsense.
Sex without a “YES” is not sex. It is rape. End of discussion.
X for Bowling? Think STRIKE! Yeah, I used that one in my grandmother’s eulogy, too. X is a hard letter to write for.
Bowling has been a way for me to spend time with family for more than 20 years. My husband and I were in a bowling league with my parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles before we were married. In fact, the day after Jim and I got married, we didn’t leave for a honeymoon (we never took one); we went and bowled in our league.
My cousin Robyn is constantly using the mantra, “It’s not about what you’re going; it’s about who you’re with,” every time we are stuck doing something miserable together. This mantra fits bowling quite a bit! My average is 120, and that’s about as high as it has ever been. I tell people the most consistent thing about my bowling is my lack of consistency. I have been known to bowl a 122 in game 1, an 88 in game 2, and a 179 in game 3.
My husband quit bowling with the family a few years ago partially because he wan’t a terrific bowler, either, and that made it pretty un-fun for him. Not me. I like it. I don’t care that I’m not any good. I like the family time.
And now to see if anyone I bowl with reads this, I have just one thing to say: B.J. Honeycutt?
Bowling: it’s definitely not about what I’m doing; it’s about who I’m with!
Isn’t it odd how some things stay with you for no apparent reason? The song “Wonderful” by Everclear is one of those things that has stayed with me, but this post isn’t really about this song, but rather it’s a springboard.
I clearly remember the first time I heard this song and saw the video. It was the summer of 2000 and I was visiting my parents in Ohio and we were at King’s Island. I was standing in line with my dad to ride The Beast (my favorite roller coaster in the whole world, BTW) and there were video monitors in the queue that played music videos to watch while you waited for the ride. This video came on and I listened to the words as I watched the video. It struck me as heartbreakingly sad and for some reason, the song stayed with me.
One year later, that song became slightly prophetic when my parents split up and eventually divorced after more than 30 years of marriage. Suddenly, I was able to identify with way too many lines in that song.
“Close my eyes and count to ten, hope it’s over when I open them.”
“I wish I could count to ten, make everything be wonderful again.”
“I go to school and I run and play. I tell the kids that it’s all okay. I laugh aloud so my friends won’t know when the bell rings I just don’t wanna go home.”
“I don’t believe you when you say everything will be wonderful someday.”
“I don’t wanna hear you say that I will understand someday.”
“I don’t wanna hear you say you both have grown in a different way.”
“I just want my life to be the same, just like it used to be.”
“Some days I hate everything, everyone and everything.”
And hate I did. I hated everyone. I hated my mom, my dad, and my dad’s eventual wife, Brenda. It literally ate me alive. I was sick. I was awful to people. I was eroding my relationships with my family, my friends, my husband, my daughter. I was black on the inside. And I was so, so exhausted. Hating is an ugly thing and it makes a person ugly in every way.
Literally, one morning I woke up and told myself that I simply could not control this situation and I had to stop trying and I couldn’t hate anymore.
So I stopped.
And it was the most liberating thing I ever did in my whole life.
It opened me up to love my parents again. It opened me up to love Brenda and her family as I have gotten to know so many of them. It allowed me to heal my relationships. It allowed me to see the good in the people around me and in the world. I am eternally grateful, too, for the patience my parents and Brenda and my family and friends showed me during that time of my life. I am sure I wasn’t easy to be around. I’m so glad they are all still here today.
Certainly my life isn’t perfect, but I think overall I can say that everything is wonderful now.
I hope I’m not committing some faux pas by saying my husband had a vasectomy a number of years ago. It took some coaxing but he did it. And if HE can get one, ANY man can get one — love you, babe 🙂
I don’t understand the resistance men have to vasectomies. If it’s time, just do it. Is is fear of pain? They do them without needles and scalpels now (that’s how my husband’s was done). It’s not necessary to sit around with a bag of frozen peas under your balls anymore. You even get valium before the procedure!
Is it some homophobic thing, you don’t want a man handling your balls? Get over it. The doctor has seen balls before; trust me, yours aren’t half as enticing as you think they are.
Are you afraid of having a woman doctor? I can’t even fathom this fear. Not even worth discussing. Is it a sexist thing? Is it a woman touching you thing? Forget it. I can’t even wrap my head around it.
Is it because you think it’s humiliating to go through the procedure? Do NOT even say that. Three things:
Paper nightgown. Feet. Stirrups. Speculum.
Contracting uterus. Baby. Push and poop. Episiotomy.
Boobs. Metal plates. Smash.
Do not speak of how humiliating it would be to have a vasectomy. Women have you so so beat.
Is it so you can keep your options open? Gimme a break. Like your wife is going to leave you a widower at age 74 and you’re going to find some hot 24 year old who wants to have your baby. If you really do want to keep your options open, go make some deposits at a sperm bank.
Religious reasons? Not even going there because I cannot be polite.
Is it just laziness or because you just don’t want to? Well, has it occurred to you that maybe your wife
Doesn’t want to take birth control anymore — there are risks and side effects, you know.
Doesn’t like condoms either.
Doesn’t want to use natural family planning (because you know what they call people who use natural family planning….)
Doesn’t want to have a much-more-complicated-and-invasive-than-a-vasectomy surgical procedure.
Couldn’t get one of those surgical procedures from her doctor even if she wanted one. They tend not to be elective if you’re speaking of a hysterectomy in any form.
Come on, men. If your wife has been nagging you for a vasectomy, man up! It will be just fine.
The View from the Cheap Seats 