Just a bunch of complaints, really

I’ve had a bit of a rough week.

There are times when living alone really gets to me.  The pressures of maintaining a house and a yard and fixing all of the things that go wrong….sometimes they overwhelm me.  It’s not necessarily the amount of work – it’s more that I don’t know how to do even half of it and the thought of figuring it all out and bumbling around overwhelms me.  I’m that girl who freaks out when she doesn’t know the protocol.  I’m that girl who is absolutely and insanely afraid of looking dumb.  Neither of those things makes it all that easy to figure out the essentials of maintaining a yard and/or house.  Sometimes, I just really want someone to take care of it for me.  Sometimes I NEED someone to just take care of something for me – it just doesn’t happen.

Let me back up to last Thursday when the small group of people at work who were  interested in getting a cohort together for a Master’s program found there weren’t enough people interested.  To make a long story short, it was going to occur in a neighboring town.  That town didn’t have enough people interested.  The real question was did the two towns combined have enough – a question the university didn’t seem interested in as they wanted to shuttle us off to another town (which doesn’t work for me).  So the group of coworkers and I are standing there with this reality and I have a meeting to get to so I ask if they’re interested in working to make it happen…. everyone said yes.  Then I ran off to my meeting.

What happened after that?  Nothing.  Did anyone make any phone calls?  Nope.  It’s been a recurring theme at work this year that, if I don’t do something, it simply doesn’t get done.  I would have needed  a lot of help and a lot of buy in to make the cohort happen.  No one else lifted a finger except to ask me if I’d made any progress.  I’d never offered to take it on, they just assumed.

Friday we had a teacher’s institute.  I’m sitting with my department and, true to form…. very few people in the audience are listening.  I believe in free education – which most institutes are.  This topic is of enough interest to my school board and administrators that they’ve sent me to numerous conferences and they’ve had a total of two full-day institutes on the subject.  I snapped at a couple of members of my department to not talk to me because I’m trying to pay attention – which didn’t really annoy anyone because they knew I was paying attention and at least one of us would know what needed to get done when they gave us time to work.  This is how it always is.  They sit there and chit chat and surf the web on their iPads because they’re not interested in the topic.  NEITHER AM I.  But I pay attention because I’m a freaking professional and I’m being paid to pay attention.

Toward the afternoon I snapped.  The instructions the speaker were giving were unclear and confusing, I had to tell my department TWICE to keep it down because I couldn’t hear and I didn’t know what we needed to do…. and they kept talking.

I switched tables.  I literally got up and walked to another table.  I left them there.  No one knew what they were doing and they didn’t have a clue how to help me so I would have done all of the work anyway.  So I went to another table, helped out that department and – when the speaker began calling on random tables to present their work….. THAT WAS THE ONLY TIME MY DEPARTMENT LOOKED TO SEE WHERE I WAS.  They didn’t care until I wasn’t there to save their asses.

Then the weekend hit and I had a bunch of yard work to do in order to get my lawn in order from the winter… AND I had a ton of housework to do because I was trying to deep clean for Mother’s Day when my family would come over for brunch.  I haven’t been cleaning properly because I’ve been a lazy, depressed hag for months and so this was a much needed cleaning but it took a lot of time and energy.

Monday my department is giving me the cold shoulder because they think I was a total bitch on Friday.  Fine by me.  I came home Monday night and continued to struggle with the lawn.  The sink my washing machine drains into clogged and backed up so I had a really fun and nasty mess there to figure out.  And then I sliced open my thumb doing something son inane and stupid I won’t even tell the story to very many people.  But my thumb was seriously slashed open.  As in, it put a halt to the rest of my plans for Monday.

Tuesday night I went to take a bath and the nob broke.  I took it apart and I definitely have to purchase a new one but that did me no good because I needed to shave my legs and my thumb can’t get wet.  Shaving the legs didn’t happen because I threw a hissy fit and refused to try to work the pliers to turn the metal rod with a gimpy thumb.

Blah blah blah.  So much complaining… but it just seemed like everything was going wrong this past week.  So tired of having to deal with everything myself… and everyone expecting me to take care of everything.  And yeah… none of it is super big… it’s just constant at home and I seem to have made the same bed at work somehow.

*Sigh*

For the record, I remembered my password on the first try.

You know that moment when you return to a website you haven’t visited in quite some time and it asks for your password and your palms get all sweaty because you KNOW you made this password different than your normal go-to group of passwords and you also KNOW you spelled a certain word all wonky in your password and you’re not quite sure how you spelled it and you also KNOW you created a separate email account for that website and you’re pretty sure it has the same password as that website so even if you were to try a password reset you wouldn’t be able to do one anyway because the email would go to an account you can’t access?

Well.

I just had that moment with this blog.

Needless to say, it’s been a while.

In all honesty, I haven’t been the best blogger here.  I’m not certain I even have any readers… which is ok because I’m pretty sure the kind of blog stuff I write about is more like a journal than a diary and I’m ok with that.

Whatever the case, I’d like for that whole… absent blogger thing to change.  You see, I’ve been in a downward spiral of sorts lately.  I’ve exercised so infrequently I’m back to being a whiner whenever I do attempt exercise.  I’ve let fear stand in the way of attempting to jog/run again – mainly due to that failed summer when I tried and tried but could never get it off the ground.  I’ve gained weight of epic proportions – probably due to reverting back to my favorite coping mechanism: food.  It could also have something to do with this serious sugar thing I’ve got going on where I think I’ve trained by brain to demand sugar immediately after eating.  “Oh, you’ve finished a big meal?  GIVE ME SUGAR, BITCH!”  That’s how it feels.  

So how does all of the above add up to me not being an absent blogger?  Well, I’ve decided to try my hand at getting back into the game.  I’m going to attempt to stop all the bad habits, get back into exercise, start eating properly again, track my calories, and do the blogging thing.  It was all a winning combination for me before, I’m hoping it will be again.

So here goes nothing, eh?  🙂

 

Meh

I don’t have much to say.

This winter has been a bit on the brutal side (ok… a lot on the brutal side) and I’m still plugging away as best as I can.  Luckily, the light box seems to be doing its trick and I’m not horribly depressed.  Though seriously, I thought I might be headed that direction when I finally weighed in.

Ok – let me back up the train.  In one of my last two posts I was all “I’m staying away from sugar!!”  And then I babysat my nephew and the stupid candied popcorn I’d bought from my other nephew months earlier was delivered to me and I totally ate some.  I don’t know how many servings I actually ate that day/night but I do know the first thing I did when I got home was weigh out the servings so I knew exactly how much I was eating (seriously, buying a kitchen scale is marvelous).  There was a serious part of me that considered just eating the rest of the popcorn and moving forward.  You know, eating it all in one day.  HELLO SUGAR!  I didn’t do that.  I did, however, eat some when I got up in the middle of the night and (luckily maybe) I woke up with stomach flu and blamed it on that stupid popcorn and so I threw the rest of it away.

And that is why I hate candied popcorn now.  I’m happy.

Anyway,  I’d been doing the whole calorie counting and food logging thing on MFP for about two weeks before I finally had the courage to weigh myself.  But I finally did and was all like “ok, I can move on from here.”

And then I had a rather brutal week and I didn’t exercise but I was still confident I should have lost weight.  And when I weighed myself it would seem as though I had.  And here’s the thing…. I like to be a week behind in claiming my loss to be “official” – meaning I don’t put it into MFP until the next week.  Why?  Because I’m crazy and also scared of reporting something that isn’t true.

AND THE VERY NEXT DAY I WAS UP THE POUND IT SAID I HAD LOST.

So I chalked it up to a crazy scale the day before and figured I hadn’t lost any weight.  Which was sad for me.  It made me feel bad about myself and it made me lose a bit of willpower and motivation.  I did exercise a couple of times last week but nothing like I should have… because, you know… I was just sad.

And then I weighed myself today and I appear to be down two pounds.  Which is just freaking awesome. 😀  So now I’m happy.

But I only recorded ONE pound lost on MFP because the one from last week obviously stayed and so I have to wait another week to see if this pound stayed gone.

See my logic there?  No?  Yes?  Fine, I’m probably just crazy anyway.

I don’t have a real point in all this – I’m just catching you guys up on what I’ve been doing with my time (obsessing about food).  I would like to report that I have genuine muscle fatigue in my legs again – which is nice.  It’s been a while since I’ve felt that and I feel like I could get back in the game so to speak.

So yeah… thank goodness my tried and true methods are proving to still be effective.  I don’t know what I’d have done if it had suddenly just stopped working.  Scary.

 

At what age?

There’s a lot of hate out there for the overweight.

I recently read a blog where the blogger was voicing their opinion of charging more for health insurance for those who are overweight and smokers.  There are a lot of people clamoring for an increased health insurance premium for the overweight.  I’m always struck by how fiercely those people speak out against the overweight – such animosity!

And let’s face it… in our society…. being overweight is something which is seen as shameful.  In fact, shaming the overweight is a common daily occurrence in every town in America.  Every.  Single.  Town.

Add to this that I’m back to tracking calories and so I’m perusing the MyFitnessPal message boards just to get my mind into the game of weight loss and already I have to step back from the message boards because there are so many incredibly fit people there degrading others who ask for advice.  Now most of them don’t mean to be anything but helpful but some of those people cannot possibly fathom what it’s like to be very overweight and just starting out.  You’re new, you’re scared you’re going to fail just like every time before, and you’re looking for advice.  Just today someone posted that they couldn’t find where to enter their walking as exercise and someone posted back that it was rubbish to log your walking anyway as that wasn’t a real workout.  (Trust me, I had to hold myself back from finding the medical article which stated real facts where walking was better for your overall health than running.)

See… there was someone looking for help on weight loss and exercise and instead of help… they faced what they’ve been facing for a while now… ridicule.

What I’d like to know is… at what age does it become acceptable to shame the overweight?

I doubt many of us would blame a 2 year old child for being overweight.  Rather, we would blame their parents.  So how about a 6 year old?  Do we want to explain to a 6 year old that they are overweight and begin giving them body issues which may develop into an eating disorder?  12 years old?  15?

Let’s face it folks, even if you wait until the age of 18 you’re being an asshole.  Someone who was raised in an unhealthy eating/living environment has developed their unhealthy relationship with food early on – and has lived with those disordered eating habits for years by the time they are 18.

Let’s look at my life.  I was never exposed to the concept of moderation.  You want it?  Eat it.  It never occurred to me that desserts shouldn’t be a regular part of life.  You know what wasn’t a regular part of life?  Vegetables.  I was pretty certain I hated vegetables.  And salads.  Gross.

When I went off to college I continued my disordered eating.  There were plenty of others around doing the same and so it just never clicked.  And when I moved out on my own?  I made the foods I grew up on.  Fried potatoes.  Lots and lots of fried potatoes.  I ate fried potatoes nearly every night growing up.  And yes, they are delicious.

My point here is that I find it absolutely ridiculous how easily people feel it’s perfectly find to shame the overweight.  They like to oversimplify as well.  “All you have to do is exercise and eat less.”  It’s really not that simple.  My dysfunctional relationship with food is a permanent part of me.  Habits are hard to overcome.  Many of us have deep seated emotional roots in our eating.  How dare anyone think it’s just ok to point a finger and call me fat and lazy?  Where was DCFS swooping in to rescue me from the eating habits my parents were teaching me?

If you wouldn’t do it to a 5 year old, don’t do it to an adult.  Have the common sense that these behaviors were learned and practiced for YEARS before that person became an adult.  Nested in those behaviors are there stress coping mechanisms, their depression coping mechanisms, their memories of their parents and their home… It’s not simple so shut your  mouth and offer support – not shame.

I hate you, sugar!

I threw away a cookie last night.

I’ve been what I call “on the wagon” since Saturday.  I’ve been logging my calories on MyFitnessPal and making sure I exercise (even if it is just walking) every day.  On Monday I went into work for interviews and staring at me on my desk was a cup full of M & M’s left there carelessly when I went home on the 19th.  I didn’t eat them.  I didn’t eat any of them.  I was totally proud.

As someone who has an incredibly unhealthy relationship with sugar, I know I need to greatly rework the way I view sugar in my everyday eating.  What was once mostly restricted to an unhealthy love of ice cream has branched out into other categories.  The cookies I decorate, chocolate, peanut brittle, caramel sauce, sugary Starbucks beverages… you name it… I have a weakness for it.  It needs to stop.  I need to put sugar back where it belongs: as an occasional treat.  I am not one of the lucky ones with the metabolism/genetic makeup/natural intuition who can moderate my food intake inherently.  I am not one of those people who just don’t get hungry later if I have a big meal at noon.  Eating sugar any time of the day just makes me crave more sugar.

When I started logging my calories again and making an effort to eat healthier, I didn’t set out to go through a sugar detox.  But I did notice that I didn’t go over the grams of sugar goal MyFitnessPal set for me.  In fact, there were 3 days in a row that I didn’t go over that goal.

I have to admit, I was pretty shocked.

That sugar goal has always seemed incredibly low to me.   As a person who lost 50 lbs eating mostly what I want (which included a mini ice cream after dinner every day), I was always over on the sugar.  I would look at the stats and just be dumbfounded as to how anyone would ever be able to stay at such a low sugar goal.  I mean…. sugar is EVERYWHERE, isn’t it?

Yeah, apparently not.

I did go over on sugar the other day – due to a sweet potato… but I’m not going to sweat that at all.  I have also had two squares of dark chocolate sometime in the past few days.  I’m not going to sweat that either.  In fact, I think both days I had the chocolate were days I didn’t go over on sugar.

So last night, my body started to retaliate.  I’d eaten dinner.  I even had stomach cramps though I’m still not certain why.  I almost never have stomach issues (I swear, it’s one of the perks of eating horribly for most of your life… your stomach can handle all sorts of junk).  Even as I sat there with my stomach feeling uncomfortable I began to daydream of sugar.

I seriously had several internal conversations with myself that went something like this:

“You are 230 calories under your goal today, you could totally eat 1/3 of that extra cookie out there.”

“You’re right… I totally could….. no… wait… I’m trying to only have desserts and stuff on special occasions.”

“You realize that eliminates Starbucks from your life.”

“Ouch.”

“How about making a mug cake?  How many calories in that?”  *Google search*

“Only 80 calories?  I can totally make one of those!  Heck, I could make two!”

“And THAT is exactly why I shouldn’t.  I went from having one to having two within half a second of realizing I could fit it into my calories.  NOT COOL.”

“Fine, just take a BITE of the cookie then.”

“You know what?  I’m going to have some peppermint tea.”

The whole time I drank the peppermint tea I was wondering how long I’d have to wait after I was finished until the peppermint taste wouldn’t ruin the taste of the cookie.

“Maybe half the cookie…..”

At which point I ran out into the kitchen, picked up the cookie, and hurled it into the garbage with enough force to knock it down toward the bottom of the trash…. because had it landed on top on a piece of relatively clean looking paper… I’d still be in danger.

After that, it was just over.  No idea why the mug cake wasn’t still calling my name but the simple act of me throwing out that cookie told my brain NO.  And let me tell you, when I was running out there to throw out that cookie I knew there was a distinct possibility I might lift it to my mouth instead.

I also may or may not have emitted some sort of battle cry as I threw it in the garbage.  I cannot confirm or deny.

Typical New Year’s Post

2014 headerThat’s right, that’s a cookie.  Well, two of them anyway.

Before I make myself sit here and think of my goals for 2014 I’m going to force myself to think of all that occurred in my 2013.

  • Probably the biggest thing is my sister Shelly having a baby and me being there for everything in the hospital.  That’s a major first for me and a major first in that I’m learning how to deal with babies which I’ve never been very good at.
  • I started a cookie business without really thinking much about it or meaning to.
  • Half of my department at work (that’s 2 people) didn’t come back this year and neither did my old boss as he retired.
  • My aunt moved in with me for about 6 months during which time she slowly started driving me insane and during which I ate copious amounts of chocolate.
  • I began to hate my new boss.  I began to resent my school administrators for not caring how much work they dumped on me.
  • I exercised less than I have in probably two years.
  • I gained about 15 lbs.
  • I relapsed on a lot of bad habits.

All in all, 2013 could have been better but it could have been much worse.  What I really want to focus on this year is getting back to a healthy weight, exercising on a regular basis, and finding some time to be present in my life.

Getting back to a healthy weight means a change in a couple areas of my life.  For one, I need to start exercising again and this means finally throwing in the towel on the whole running thing.  My body just isn’t the same since the accident.  I cannot seem to get back into it without a bunch of aches and pains which just make me take days off.  Walking and cycling will be my new things.  Once I start exercising, I typically start eating better (why oh why are they sooooo closely linked?).  I need to be mindful of what I put into my body.  It’s no coincidence that I feel like crap all of the time when I’m eating crap all of the time.  Balance.  I need to be sure I take some time for ME and actually do something which betters ME.

I started this paragraph thinking I had something else in my list but I guess I don’t.  Taking care of my body pretty much encompasses everything I feel the worst about right now.  Must fix!

What about you?  What are your goals for the new year?

 

The Mad Rush

Christmas is coming.

It’s been my favorite time of year since I was a little girl – mainly because it was always my grandmother’s favorite time of year.  We would literally haul box after box of Christmas decorations out of the basement and replace every single decorative item in her house with one which had a Christmas theme.  It was a ton of work but we never really minded, it was a family tradition.

Those days are gone.  I have a few of her Christmas decorations in a shadow box on my wall and fond memories of she and I sitting in the dark looking at the Christmas lights on the tree, the horrible task of decorating the mantle because it was always a pain to get everything just right, and the way she would make marshmallow pie and tint one red and the other green.

These days, Christmas seems to mean less and less.  My family, once held so firmly together by the rock which was my grandmother, scattered, leaving behind just my mother and my sisters and myself.  The Christmas day of recent years was spent with me making a feast only to have my family come, eat, open gifts soon thereafter and then leave quickly – never lingering around in the evening the way we always did at my grandmother’s house.  As the last family member leaves my heart sinks and I’m left feeling lonely.

This year I’m struck by all the changes in my life.  It’s been 10 years since my grandmother passed away.  A decade of missing her and wishing she were here to talk with and laugh with.  A decade of change.  A decade of becoming someone vastly different from the person I was when she last knew me.  Cookie queen that I am these days I often wonder what she would make of my cookie decorating hobby which I’ve picked up in the past year.  Just a year ago this week I made my first attempts at cookie decorating.  My grandmother was no baker.  I remember her doing holiday baking from time to time.  It was always a quick affair, little fanfare and always rushed in the final touches.  She had no patience for it, didn’t like it, and only did it because her family enjoyed the results.  I wonder what she would think of the patience I show in my endeavors.  I wonder what she would say.

In the past two weeks I’ve made 23 dozen cookies or so.  It seems so crazy.  I decided some time over the weekend I wouldn’t be taking any more orders.  The stress of the past two weeks has taken its toll and I need to remind myself it is a money making hobby, not an actual part time job.  Plus, I have presents to wrap, treats to make for my family, and I really would like to make cookies to give to my neighbors.  All of which I SHOULD have time to do if I simply make the time for it.  I don’t want the remaining time before Christmas Eve to be a mad rush in which I feel as though I have little time and cannot enjoy the moments in which I feel the spirit of the season.  I want to watch Christmas movies as I leisurely wrap my gifts.

And so I will.

I hope everyone else out there will take the time to be present in the moment over the next week and a half.

Merry Christmas.

Gone are the days

I don’t want to turn this into a teacher blog but it’s going to be from time to time.

We had a faculty meeting tonight and our administrator said “Gone is the generation of kids who did things because they are supposed to.  This generation won’t do anything just because they’re supposed to, so we have to work around that.”

My question is…. why are those students gone?  In what ways has our society changed so that this is now the norm?  Is it because few people have learned to take responsibility for their actions?  Have our children watched us passing the buck a few too many times?  Or is it something else?

Where are those children and how do we get them back?  Can we get them back?

Parent-Teacher Conferences

I have a love-hate relationship with parent-teacher conferences.  I’ve experienced some real nightmares when it comes to dealing with parents such as:  The parent coming in drunk.  The parent letting me know they will beat their child when they get home.  The parent turning the meeting into something else entirely.  The parent saying “well, I can certainly see why he likes biology class” while oogling me in the creepiest way imaginable.  And many more.  I imagine all teachers have similar horror stories and then some truly unique ones such as one of my teacher friends whose mother said “of course he likes your class, you’ve got BOOBIES!”  And then there’s my coworker who just had a parent sit down and tell her that she was throwing shit against the wall and expecting it to stick.  (This from someone who expected her be teaching college level chemistry in an introductory high school chemistry class and who also encouraged her to blow things up to get the attention of the students – which is NOT what chemistry is about but anyway…)

So, every year I gear up for the worst and brace myself for the onslaught of “Why can’t my student get an A in your class?”

And it’s not that it’s impossible to get an A in my classes.  It’s just that you have to do some seriously above average work to earn one.  It seems as though, as a whole, many people have forgotten that A does not stand for Average.  The grading scale says a C is an average grade.  That means a grade of B shows an above average grasp of concepts and an A is someone who is very accomplished in their work and understanding of the concepts.  And yet, for some reason, our parents have begun to demand A’s from their student’s teachers – nope… not from the students… but from the teachers.  Trust me, there is a LOT of pressure on teachers these days to not fail anyone – no matter the reason.

An example?  Our math department is experiencing a high number of D’s and F’s.  Most of the students with these grades have many missing homework assignments.  To say it again: Most of them are getting Ds and Fs because they are not doing the work.  When you don’t do the homework (which is practice) you typically don’t do well on the test.  (Students expecting to do well on the test despite the lack of practice is much like picking up a basketball and expecting to be offered a spot in the NBA.  Sure, it can happen, but for most people it takes thousands of hours of practice to get to that point.)  Anyway, instead of addressing the homework issue…. our principal told them to have the students complete one problem at the end of each class period and to give them points for doing so.  In case you missed it… the response was grade inflation.  Give them points for everything, that way if they DO fail the test… they have enough bogus grades in the grade book to make it so they won’t fail the class.

And honestly, it’s not as though the math teachers weren’t having the kids do sample problems in class.  It’s just that now the students get a grade for doing what is expected of them.  When I look through many of the teacher’s grades in my school I see a lot of “completion” grades which means the students get rewarded just for doing the work – not for the quality of work.  I see a lot of “on task” grades meaning the student is getting points for just going through the motions in an appropriate manner.   And, when I look at their tests I see multiple choice tests that are nothing more than examples of rote memorization.  And it isn’t  that these teachers are necessarily bad teachers who aren’t trying to actually teach their students… it’s just that they have succumbed to the pressure of A means average and grade inflation.  Neither of which are going to teach our youth to think and prosper in their adulthood.

It’s all very maddening for me.  As a science teacher, my goal is to teach my students to think and question and analyze and draw conclusions.  My students are resistant to each of these things because they aren’t being challenge to do so in other classes.  Their parents are resistant because their student isn’t getting an A in my class.  Sometimes I feel like the last hold out in education (which I know I am not).

And then parent-teacher conferences occurred this past week and I had two sets of amazing parents.  Naturally, both sets are college professors.  But both of those parents discussed with me their child’s learning this year.  They discussed the rigor of my classroom and thanked me for challenging their student to grow as a student and a learner.  And yes, both sets of parents said they see in their college freshmen students who are not able to do anything but memorize facts – they can’t do anything with the information, but they can spew definitions at them all day long.

It’s people like those parents who make me proud of the efforts I put in to challenge my students to think.  It’s parents like those who give me the strength to defend students who get As in all of their other classes getting a B or a C in mine.  However, I do feel the daily pressure of caving to A means average – I know my fellow teachers feel it.  If America wants good education for their children – they need to understand that not everyone will earn an A… or a B.  They need to understand that a C is a fine grade for most students.  All of the education reform in the world won’t help us if we insist on inflating grades and handing out As to students who don’t deserve them.

I’ll step down off my soapbox now.

“You might want to rethink some of your choices”

My little sister called me the other day.

I’m a horrible phone person.  Most people in my family are.  In this age of cell phones we can see who is calling and, most of the time, we aren’t motivated to pick up the phone.  Text me, please.  So she was a little irate that she’d called the previous week and I’d never bothered to return her call.  Justified, I guess.

My little sister has recently relocated to another state having found her very first real job as an adult with a master’s degree.  Fun stuff.  What wasn’t so fun was the gynecologist appointment she had about two days before moving.  The doctor found abnormal cells yadda yadda blah blah… hpv.  The doctor wanted her to come back for a cone biopsy and, when my little sister informed her she was moving, she pressed the issue, making it sound fairly urgent.

Naturally, my little sister called me in a panic.

I calmed her down, talked to her a little bit about hpv, how common it is and how most of the time it amounts to nothing.  I mentioned how one of our other sister’s had an abnormal pap before and nothing ever came from it.

She then did what most people in my family do after they call me for medical advice (I’m not a doctor, I just play one for my family because they apparently equate my biology degree with a medical degree except not really because they just want my opinion before they call someone who is a real doctor, see)… Anyway, she called her family physician.

Instead of telling her facts the doctor said “You know, you got this from a guy… you might want to rethink some of your choices.”  Instead of giving her real medical advice, he tried to shame her.  Which… and I hope you pardon my language… is utter bullshit.

I’ve been fuming about this ever since, completely up in arms that someone would try to make my baby sister feel shame for having contracted hpv.  All I could do when she called me crying over it was tell her “honey, I don’t know any solid stats but it is my understanding that MOST people will encounter hpv in their lifetime if they are sexually active.”

And tonight, I finally spent 2 minutes looking for that statistic.  You can go there and scroll down and look for the sentence I’m about to quote.

“Most sexually active men and women will get HPV at some point in their lives.”

Oh…  You mean my little sister isn’t a slut?  I already knew this.  I have to assume the doctor in question had to know this statistic… and yet he took the moment to do a little shaming.

I could go on a rant here about men and their perception of women and how women seem to have fallen for the dumbest ideas men have.  I could go on and on about how society feels so comfortable labeling women and how women label each other as well.  However, those thoughts are best considered on your own.  Delve deep, people.  Figure out what you find acceptable in this arena and then don’t just ignore it when something happens to go against your principles.  Say something.

Happily, my little sister went to a new gynecologist where she now lives.  She had a fantastic experience, a doctor who gave her the facts about hpv and who also told her it probably is a huge waste of time to do a cone biopsy but that they will certainly monitor the situation in case one is needed.

Oh, and not once did she allude to my sister being a slut.  Go figure.