Guest Post: My encounter with an IUD

Babies seem to be everywhere recently, cute babies downtown, screaming babies in the supermarket, it’s been babies galore and I just don’t want anything to do with it. The idea of having a baby right now is so repulsive it makes me slightly nauseous, what’s worse is how badly my body wants a baby. Seriously, I see a baby and it’s like my uterus wants to jump out of my body.

With my “biological clock” obviously in overdrive I wanted to find a safe convenient way to ensure that I would not be getting woken up at 3am by a crying infant. I have always used birth control, but lets face it… the pill is a pain in the ass, and I always forget to take it at the right time.  It just so happened that I had my yearly gyno exam a few weeks ago ( if you haven’t gone recently you really should!) and we we’re talking about birth control and I decided that I really wanted to try an IUD. After getting the whole “risks and benefits” talk I excitedly made an appointment to get an IUD inserted.

I had wonderfully supportive friends and even my mama thought it was a good idea, so I had relatively few apprehensions leading up to the appointment, that is until I casually mentioned it to a friend of mine from back home.  Get this, she actually told me that I was going to get every STI known to man because having an IUD would automatically make me into a careless sex-addict! Excuse me, but if I’m not a whore now, having an effective form of birth control is not going to turn me into one and obviously I use condoms anyways. Leave it to one of my oldest friends to totally burst my bubble and make me feel like a complete slut just because I was trying to take an active, informed, role in my sexual health.

Obviously my friend’s opinion was hurtful, but it didn’t change my mind about getting the IUD (though I did need to hash it out with one of my better friends first). The day of the insertion I take 3 Motrin (as instructed) drink a coffee and head off to the gyno. The nurse takes me to my room and asks me if I am positive about getting the IUD and then proceeds to comfort me by assuring me it’s easily removable. The strangest part about talking to this nurse was how much she was telling me about her life, what she had for breakfast, where she had met her wife. All these extraneous tidbits that I would normally love to hear just made me feel horribly awkward about the looming reality that something was getting shoved into my uterus.

I have never felt as uncomfortable as I did waiting for my gyno to come and start the insertion process, although I knew that I wanted the IUD I couldn’t help but think of the judgment my friend had passed, or wonder if more people felt the same way she did and just hadn’t told me.  The  gyno came in, I signed the consent form (I, “mama bear”, promise not to sue your pants off if you fuck up horribly), laid down with my feet in the metal stirrups, and was raised to the seated gynecologists eye level. As the bed squeaked to a stop my vagina was on full display,

“you’re going to feel a lot of pressure”… followed by “congratulations your uterus is big enough for the IUD” (phew… I’m glad it isn’t too small, how embarrassing would that be).

“Ok, I’m about to insert the insertion rod, you’re going to feel cramping” ( I breath hard and don’t react when the stabbing pain of having something attach to your cervix happens)

“ I’m just going to try a new location, you’re going to feel that cramp again”… “ let me try this again”…. “hmm, okay one more time” (what the hell is wrong with me, why isn’t it working?)

“You are doing so great, I cant believe you’re handling this so well, I know it’s painful… but I just can’t get it in, your uterus is just tilted to far back. I’m sorry”

At this point I have been laying with my vagina in the air for a solid 40 minutes, I wanted to say “ well try harder” but I knew she had my best interest at heart. I felt broken, my uterus is such a freak of nature that she (who has inserted hundreds of IUDs) can’t put it in.  I went in to get an IUD put in to prevent pregnancy but for a split second I was actually horribly scared that I would never be able to have a baby. I was reassured that this didn’t mean I couldn’t and wouldn’t have beautiful healthy babies at some point and sent home with a prescription for another birth control. The ladies at the front desk harmlessly asked me if I had severe cramping, and when I explained and they let out a collective “oh” I felt like giving my uterus a hug and telling it “it’s not your fault, I still love you even though you’re ruining my plan for easy birth control”.

My cervix is now bloody and angry for being prodded at, I still slightly feel like “damaged goods,” and it bothers me to no end that I got so upset at the IUD insertion failure.  Although the IUD option is obviously not viable for me, I still think that it was worth the attempt. My experience is unusual, and though it was not what I had hoped for, it was not a negative experience. If the opportunity presents itself I will try to get an IUD again.

How do you all feel about IUD’s, birth control, the gynecologist, your uterus, your partner’s uterus, babies? Have you had a “damaged goods” moment?

-Mama Bear

gettin' all private again

There's a pun in that title somewhere, but I'm too sick/lazy/tired to find it.

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As many of you may (or may not) know, next year I will be a teacher. YAY!

But people are weird about teachers and sex. BOO.

Thus, I've decided that I've got to make the blog private again. I did everything I could to just get my full name as fully removed from the blog as possible, but the Mount Holyoke News editor refused to take down the article about my blog, and while she removed my last name, it still brings it up in a Google search and that's enough to make me look less than exemplary.

So, please either leave your emails below, or email me at fornicatingfeminists@gmail.com. You must have a Google account to do this, so keep that in mind. It takes just a few minutes, and I'll still be pumping about good stuff about sex, body image, and feminism...it'll just be a little less exposed. What really sucks is that the blog is limited to 100 readers by Blogger if it's private, so get that shit in early! And maybe you can share your Google log-in info with friends, so you don't have to miss out on juicy posts.

The blog will be made private in one week from Friday (i.e., March 11th). Perhaps this isn't necessary, but I'd rather not risk it. And it might be as simple as changing the domain name and moving the content elsewhere...but I don't know yet. I'm investigating my options, but for now, this is the quickest and easier option, even if it makes me sad. 


UPDATE: Please see this entry about how you can continue to read FF without being on the list (which is full now. Thanks for all the love!).

Much love,
The Sheriff

mother influence

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I had a lovely visit from Mama Sheriff this weekend (who adores Smith and Northampton and would be a perfect Ada Comstock scholar), which makes me feel grateful that we have such a good, authentic, honest and healthy relationship, despite the fact that I gave her absolute hell during my pre-teen years. And, although mothers can sometimes be blamed and demonized when their daughters develop eating disorders, I'm also grateful that she never gave me any major neuroses about my body or weight based on how she felt about her own. The only negative things I ever heard from her about body were about her stomach. Mama Sheriff has never in her life been overweight, yet her small tummy pudge (surely larger after having three kids, and now being 50) has been the seat of her self image for my entire life (I must admit though, it is a fixation I've inherited, since I essentially am Mama, just with a bigger vocabulary and smaller nose).

Although we see photos of "flawless" celebrity mothers on the daily whose bodies are seemingly untouched by pregnancy and childbirth, the truth is that both are HUGE ENORMOUS process that will change a woman and her body, sometimes in incredible ways (you made a PERSON and stored and nurtured it in YOUR BODY and then GOT IT OUT of you. DAMN!). But this change can still be devastating when we're taught and socialized as women to invest so much of our self-worth, sexuality and identity into our bodies and appearance. This woman's story over on Shape of a Mother (a site that allows women a space to showcase their bodies post-pregnancy, without judgment, stretch marks, sag and all) particularly drove that home for me.

If you merely look at her photos, her body is in great shape and makes her maybe look like one of those celebrities that we kinda hate for how quickly they snap back into shape (what are they, wizards?!). But her story is heart breaking and outraging, as one of her motivations to lose weight was based in her husband's cruel retort to her asking when they could resume sex: "Not until you lose the baby weight." As a commenter noted, it was nice of her to stay with her husband (though the way she tells her story, it is one of redemption)!

I have had many friends and family members who reported how much better they felt after "getting their body back" (back from what? Who took it, the baby?), how much sexier and more like themselves. Whether that's authentic or just born of a limited idea of "sexy" based on fitting in their high school jeans size, I can't say. But I myself have joked that I'll lose weight just before getting pregnant to make the weight gain less scary, so I observe this without my judgment face on.

What do you think? It is "letting yourself go" to accept one's new shape/size as a mother, whatever that may be? Or does "getting your body back" through weight loss hold some empowerment, even if it is often bound up in socially conditioned ideas of what's beautiful/sexy (ideas that don't really include mothers unless they're stereotypically hot MILFS)?

Much love,
The Sheriff

links

 Valentine's Day, according to The Oatmeal. Less complaining, more sexy rumpus is a good life motto.

Obviously, this is an extremely liberal source of info so perhaps it has bit of lean to it, but this proposed GA law that could criminalize miscarriages? I don't even have words for how outraged this makes me.

A billboard that's both anti-choice AND racist? Oh boy.

The issue with the SI Swimsuit Issue. Hell yeah.

Lady Porn Day! Lots of good stuff here.

I really love BeautySchooled's guest post on 2000 Dollar Wedding about choosing to not hop on the scale pre-wedding. Brava!

Smith + Moho + Lolcats =amazing. Nooo idea where I found this.

Have a great weekend!

Much love,
The Sheriff

titties down, ass up*:sex positions and body image

*Yes, I am referencing that terrible song by Lil Rob (this is the official video, so it doesn't quite say "titties down, ass up" but you get the gist), thanks for noticing. Also can we talk about how ridiculous this video is? And his facial hair? Damn, son.

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Time to drop some knowledge on you: sex can be a really intimate and vulnerable experience (blowing your mind right now, aren't I?). You're naked, they're up in your business, bodily fluids are everywhere...the potential for it to be embarrassing or uncomfortable is pretty damn high. Add into that the fact that many women have complicated, adversarial, and flat-out bad relationships with certain parts of their body that are prominently displayed during boning, and you've got a sometimes sad situation, rife with more anxiety than pleasure and even avoiding specific positions so as to not present so strikingly one's supposed beer gut or thunder thighs or -insert your preferred negative bodily term here- (and maybe dudes are afflicted by this too, though I am less knowledgeable about their body issues).

Personally? Not a fan of the pile driver position (accomplished like this, if you're curious), which the ex Beefcake loved, for two reasons. Number one: it didn't do much for me, and kinda hurt my neck. Number two: it put all of my stomach fat right up in mah face. And of course, in my mind, that's the worst part of my body and uglier than anything and it must've disgusted him, and not exactly a turn-on to stare at. Bad body image ruined a lot of great orgasms in the past.

While I have a few friends who avoid any rear-entry positions because of back problems (and I think it speaks to the level of grandma in my lifestyle that more than one of my 21 year old friends suffers back issues), I also know quite a few who avoid it because they're insecure about the size of their ass/cellulite (imagined or real)/the fear of not knowing exactly how they appear from that angle. Lotsa women (and again, men too) spend a lot of time, energy, and money on their appearance thanks to oppression beauty standards galore, and often we want to control the outcome of all that. Which can, understandably, lead to some insecurity when you're not sure how to hell you look, bent and spread.

I can't say for sure what you specifically look like (well, not most of you readers anyway!), but I'm guessing your partner is thinking: Wow. This person is naked! With ME! This is awesome! They're so hot/cute/funny/curvy/skinny/beautiful. I can't say anyone I've ever had sex with was bodily perfection incarnate, but I rarely noticed their flaws and if I did, it was usually fleeting before I got right back into the point of sex: the pleasure and connection between two people. So while I recommend doing whatever makes you comfortable and gets you off, it's also worth it to work on staying in the pleasure of the moment instead of wrapped up in the internal negative dialogue in your head, no matter what position you're in.

What do you think? Any positions you avoid because of perceived bodily flaws? Have you ever been with a man self-conscious about certain parts so much as to impact his choices of position (haven't encountered it myself, but I'm curious)?

Much love,
The Sheriff

It's Rally Day!

Rally Day is one of Smith's many traditions, and for people who aren't seniors, it just means that you get off class.

old timey smithies on Rally Day

For seniors, we get to wear our graduation robes for the first time (!!!) along with silly hats, we listen to speeches/they give out awards, and most importantly, we find out our commencement speaker! I'm hoping for Tina Fey or Justice Sotomayor, and will definitely update ya'll when I know!

Happy Rally Day, 2011!


UPDATE: Our commencement speaker is Sylvia Earle, which while not Tina Fey, is still pretty damn cool.

Much love,
The Sheriff

college eating and eating disorders: even Smithies are not immune

I've bitched about this before in my Letter to the Editor, but I'll say it again because it definitely deserves the emphasis (especially during NEDAW): eating disorders are absolutely rampant at Smith, and if others' stories and rumors and anecdotes are to be believed, they're mad prevalent on other campuses too. Smith, despite its penchant for creating the giants of American feminism (Betty Friedan, Gloria Steinem, the Sheriff...KIDDING), is still a veritable recipe for creating eating disorders: young females + high achievers + atmosphere that encourages you to push yourself constantly=not shocking when you see friends barely touching their salad at dinner or anonymous gagging sounds in the stall next to you or fiends at the gym (please note that I am very much aware that a plethora of people who are neither spritely youths nor female bodied also experience ED/disordered eating, but the demographic of young females is the most at risk group). And although many of us, the Sheriff most definitely included, like to pretend that we're totally above succumbing to sexist beauty standards and the desire to be thin, secretly we get frustrated with and hate on our bodies as much as any "typical" group of female college students (how utterly sad that this is considered a typical activity. Goddamn).

Smith is pretty unique from other colleges (and by unique, I mean that it holds tenaciously to its old traditions) in that everyone who lives on campus is on a full meal plan, and virtually everyone lives on campus. The full meal plan is a holdover from the days when each house (yep, all 35 of them) had its own dining hall, and we all ate baked Alaska on white table clothes with linen napkins by candlelight (or so I'm told [and like to imagine] by old alumnae). Obviously, this was heinously expensive so they cut that shit out, but there are still 11 houses with dining across a campus with a population of about 2600, so we are pretty spoiled in that we have some choice about what to eat. Checking the daily menus is pretty much the campus wide pastime, but frankly? While I recognize the logistical difficulties of feeding that many hungry college students and pity the dining services staff, much of the food is over cooked, repetitive, unhealthy, or just bleh (although sometimes they do it majorly right, like when the had Sweet Potato Week. YES!)

And any or all of those reasons make it incredibly easy to make excuses about not eating dinner, or not eating much, or binging. The food looked gross. I grabbed those cookies for my roommate. I ate at another dining hall. I just had to pee after I ate so much. Everything they made was fried, so I just ate salad. Sounds pretty innocuous, right?

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Except that it's often not. Trust me, as someone who has used every excuse and purged in every toilet at Smith (sliiiiight exaggeration), sometimes it's worth it to just say something when you're concerned about a friend. After I came clean to my friends about my ED's resurgence last year, many of them admitted that they'd noticed the weight loss/constant excuses for not being at meals, but that they hesitated to bring it up for fear of being offensive. Might your friend be mad at you? Might they deny it vehemently? Might they hate your guts for it? All possible. But it's also possible that they secretly want someone to notice, to help them recognize that they need assistance/a therapist/another way to deal with emotions. Don't judge, don't diagnose them, focus on the behaviors that concern you, and hopefully they'll be able to hear that it's coming from a place of love.

Much love,
The Sheriff

PS--if you live in or around the Five College area, you should absolutely come to the Scale Smashing event this Saturday! I don't even own a scale to smash and I'm so excited!