After weighing myself on a whim and discovering that my corporeal form’s relationship with gravity had become more loving when I wasn’t looking, I made a decision. More exercise! Less eating! Less drinking of not-water! I ate less ALL DAY TODAY and took an entire exercise class. After all that good behavior I really wanted something sweet so I mixed cranberry cocktail and 7 Up. I just need something sweet, you know?


Before 10 o’clock a.m. this fine Thursday morning I have spoken with both my parents, at length, on the phone, completely separately, about facets of rape culture and our society.

I explained to my dad the basic fear all women feel, and how we all have to assume every man is a threat to us until proven otherwise, and that it wasn’t fair but it couldn’t change until everyone taught their children not to rape. He scoffed. He’s not a bad guy, he just doesn’t believe it. I think he would rather I wear modest clothing, as if sexual attraction was why rapes happened. As if I could ever protect myself enough to not “make” someone attack or rape me. So that was a fun start to the day.

Then my mother called and we chatted about things, eventually coming around to a friend who had ranted on Facebook about a marketing campaign that uses women to sell food. The women are never fully dressed, and mostly seem to be an attractive backdrop to the food that gets artfully, seductively dropped on various body parts. My mom also scoffed at the idea that the marketing campaign is affecting the friend’s daughter’s self-image, instead saying the parents are responsible for grounding the girl in a strong sense of her own attractiveness and worth. I mentioned that a woman can be told over and over she’s beautiful, but if she can never see a portion of herself reflected in the media and called beautiful, she’s not going to believe it completely.

What is even happening today that these conversations happened? Geez. It’s not the most fun I’ve ever had.

Three days ago, while mixing chocolate chip cookie dough before baking it into a large blob I could cut tiny adorable hearts out of, I went to add the egg. I did everything normal, tapping the side of the egg against the flat of the counter just like I’ve done truly thousands of times before. I quickly moved the egg over the bowl and separated the halves to let the *nothing* inside fall into the bowl. Nothing. Nothing? The egg in its floppy, classically eggy entirety was lounging on the countertop. I guess I was just too strong for it? 

After a frozen moment of debating my options, I decided to scoop the egg off the countertop into the bowl I held just below the edge. It worked, the cookies came out fine, all this after Nikolai came rushing downstairs after I shrieked in dismay and followed it with promptly shouted, “EVERYTHING’S FINE.”

As a teenager, I do not believe I ever imagined my late 20s self getting up excited on a Saturday. No less, getting up excited on a Saturday because I would be meeting friends at a farmers’ market before going to Zumba class at my women-only dance studio. 

  1. Wake up at a normal time
  2. Drive an hour to Dad’s
  3. get coffee at favorite coffee shop by his house
  4. Pick up Dad
  5. Get coffee on the way to the airport
  6. Chat nicely on the way
  7. Have an intense discussion about politics
  8. Drop Dad off at departure terminal
  9. Drive safely home
  10. Misread I-84 East as I-84
  11. Head toward the Columbia Gorge
  12. Figure it out
  13. Take the 122nd Ave Exit
  14. Read the sign for how to get back to 84 West
  15. Forget what the sign says immediately
  16. Turn around in the middle of the road (no one was there)
  17. Go past the off ramp
  18. Turn around in a nice little neighborhood
  22. Take the correct turn
  23. make it home

Today at Zumba class I clapped my hands so enthusiastically I burst a blood vessel in my hand. 

You know those days when your in-laws call to pop by and you’re excited to see them and all? But then you realize you need to put on pants and a bra, and resign yourself to the dirty dishes in the kitchen. That was my last ten minutes.