The long entry I wrote about John McCain mocking the Senate Hearing on Syria is in the trash because I just don’t have anything to say beyond what I tweeted last night.
I’m so sorry that John McCain thinks three hours of senate hearings to determine the outcome of millions of lives is too dull to listen to.</p>— Katherine Coble (@mycropht)
So there’s that.
There’s also the issue of purity that for some reason everyone is wittering about. This happens a lot, and since I don’t watch the “news” I never really know what the igniting event is. But the zeitgeist picks up a wave and rides it from Sidney to Siberia; “purity” and “introversion” are two hot topics that keep cropping up.
I don’t write about purity because I don’t have a daughter or a son whose sexuality is easier to discuss on the internet than directly with them. I don’t have any girls from the local high school sniffing around my bronzed young progeny with their slutty selfies, nor do I have any hulking, drooling boys from church who can’t keep their leering eyes from straying to my dainty daughter’s naughty bits.
I do have the memory of a girl who liked very much the idea of sex and was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. That girl got pulled aside by a male teacher at her Christian School and told to wear baggier clothes to hide her D cup breasts. She was 13. I wonder why that was appropriate, now that I think about it. How come that teacher didn’t say “I’m a Nabakovian Creeper who cannot control myself so I’m going to blame this chronological CHILD for my problem”? Maybe to a therapist or somebody. No. Instead it was all “Biblical modesty, etc.” Keep in mind, of course, that I was a 13 year old girl in a Christian School with a dress code. We had to wear modest clothes. So it wasn’t like I was wearing those things that they blame for drooly mens drooling. (And even if I were it didn’t matter. It DOES NOT MATTER. Pederasty is not the fault of the child.)
When there were no sweaters baggy enough I ended up packing 30lbs on instead. On purpose. “Maybe this way they’ll stop looking.” They never did. Which ended up being a good thing, because my best friend decided that he liked looking and wanted to look forever. He’s still around, at work at the moment.
Why am I babbling about this? Because I wanted to write something today but I didn’t know what to write. I want to participate in the conversation but I don’t have the traditional “My Child Is A Sexy Student” entree into the thing. All I have to legitimately discuss is my own experience. It’s not that interesting, but it’s what I’ve got. And it’s better than playing iPhone poker while the Middle East burns.
I should add that the paragraph about girls with slutty selfies and boys with drool is based on some popular viral blog posts that I’m not linking to because I don’t want to give them any more press. I’m sure if you want to read them you can find them easily enough.