At least once a day I read the Salsa Bowl Excavatum forums. This has become a heady substitute for my usual doomsday intake of the lefty blogs, which I like to call The Bad News. Addictive, isn't it, to watch the land of the free turn to shit? Bad times! So instead of reading about the decay of the USA, I instead read other people's post-salsa bowl surgery horror stories. Sure, there's pain, more pain, excruciating pain, pain while laughing, pain while coughing, the pain that is vomiting and the pain that is vomit landing in your incision, but even more painful to me are these people, most often than not boys/males, who are borderline suicidal and utterly destroyed over having a little freakin' dent in their chest!
Hey! Look at me! I've got a damn SWIMMING POOL between my tits and you don't see me threatening to jump in front of a bus! Of course, I am not culturally required to go shirtless. But even in situations of a gropy nature that demanded the removal of my shirt, I was never embarrassed to have my pawprint paramours see the damn thing. I gave fair warning: I have a freaky congenital chest wall deformity, but please, help yourself to my breasts!
I'm shaped like the letter S. I have a large, pointy nose. A pot belly. Hyperextendable joints (good times!). And still, I say, I am beautiful! Or at least presentable. The ladies on the salsa bowl forum are the brave ones. The boys are the snivelly, self-conscious ones. Men are so weak.
I have a new friend who is basically a teenage girl trapped in a 40-something year old man's body. He's the new Geegster musician. I am fascinated by his unabashed use of emotional language. He loves us! No really! He hearts and flowers loves the Geegsters, but not in a creepy I want-to-get-with-you-way, no really! And he's straight. He sent us a love note, impossibly mushy, but constructive about performing with us at the same time, but still, could have very easily been written on notebook paper and pushed through the slots of a locker door. I don't think I've ever met a man like this before, and I am willing to bet that while he probably does not have curlicue girl handwriting, deep in his soul are puffy markers dying to make their mark in our collective Geegster yearbook.
There needs to be more mushy men, I say! That, in my opinion, is not weak.
I am currently cramping and listening to fey love music by S. Merritt. I am channelling my younger, better self, and my G-d, she's beautiful.
Posted by Zerd at June 27, 2006 11:03 PM