shrew (n) :
1. "small mammal," O.E. screawa "shrew-mouse."
2. "peevish, malignant, clamorous, spiteful, vexatious, turbulent woman" [Johnson] c.1386, from earlier sense of "spiteful person" (male or female), c.1250, traditionally said to derive from some supposed malignant influence of the animal, which was once believed to have a venomous bite and was held in superstitious dread.
Synonyms: amazon, battle-ax, bitch, calumniator, carper, dragon, fire-eater, fishwife, fury, harpy, harridan, hell cat, hellion, hussy, madcap, muckraker, nag, ogress, scold, she-wolf, siren, spitfire, termagant, tigress, virago, vixen, wench
This blog features reviews of LGBT science fiction and fantasy, tales of the life of a freelance writer, the occasional meme, and pictures of cats. If any of this offends you, please press Ctrl+W.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
"It's not my job to defend myself against this girl. It's her job not to attack me" (10).
Wow. That really hit me hard. It's so true for women and human beings in general. Too often we get into the habit of victim blaming. (I'm talking about every kind of victimization, from rape to racism.) It's easy. It takes the pressure off. It helps us cope with violence or uncomfortable emotions like hate. We can say that the victim "should have" done this, or could have "defended themselves" in this or that way. We say this because it helps us believe that we have options if we get in the same situation.
But all of that is a lie.
The bottom line is this: It's not our job to defend ourselves. It's other people's jobs not to attack us.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
There, I said it. Now really hear me.
My BMI is 37. I wear a size 18/20 in pants, a 9 in underwear, a 38DD in bras, and a 6.5 in shoes. I am four feet, ten inches tall. I am 31 years old. I am fat.
I am also a writer, a tutor, a student, a fiance, a friend, a daughter, and a sister. I am not stupid or lazy or sad. I am loved. I am respected.
And I am judged because I am fat. Worse, I judge myself because I am fat.
This is what I am trying to say: I accept myself as I am. I can accept myself and also seek to improve myself. I can be fat and eat well and enjoy my food and exercise and listen to my body--all at the same time. It's not easy, but I can do it.
This begins a series of entries about fat acceptance. I need to write about this because I need to understand where I fit.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
This was my morning.
This is what I had done. Sort of. I love how this picture portrays absolutely none of the pain, indignity and stench associated with the actual procedure. Who knew burning teeth smelled so bad? Not me! Also, it turns out that Tooth #14 was "hot," meaning so riddled with infection that it only responded to the "special" anesthetic. (Which, apparently, costs hundreds of dollars.) Fun.
So, yes, a very nice and gentle dentist gave me a root canal this morning. I am currently in the "Waiting for the Man" portion of the pain killer cycle, in which our hero bites back moans and waits patiently for the next dose to kick in. This will be followed by the "Am I OK? I think I'm OK" stage, the brief "Things are pretty" stage, the "Will everything please stop spinning now?" phase, quickly followed by the "Overwhelming Nausea" stage, and then, finally, the "I'm just going to take a little nap now" phase.