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.. was why the hell aren’t we talking about vaccinating girls and boys against HPV (or, rather, the four kinds of HPV that prevent 70% of all cases of cervical cancer). I mean, women aren’t just magically contracting it all by themselves, any more than we reproduce through parthenogenesis. My buddy Ian wondered if anybody […]

“When Kathleen LeBesco gave a talk at an academic meeting last fall about how, as an overweight professor, she influenced her students’ ideas about body size, there was only one problem: She wasn’t fat.” Well. Fat’s really a relative term, isn’t it? I mean, among a bunch of models and actresses I’d be considered a

I have a fucked up life. Not bad, fucked up, but just kind of fucked up right now. Things are up and down and crazy and full of sadness and hurt and laughter and storytelling and low sugar shaking and dancing in the kitchen and drinking wine and all that bittersweet shit. I’m not a

Ah, yes, Delete is a useful function, as any good LJer will tell you, so I’ve deleted this one! I’ll be taking a blogging break until late next week.

Upping me another 4 units: 24 in the morning, 18 in the evening. I’m no longer spiking above 300 in the afternoons, and I can get myself under 200 at night by working out. Calling him again on Monday for another dosage check. This is such a bitch.

Well, I dig my own holes.

Well, the one good thing that came out of the whole “blowjob” fiasco running rampant in the feminist blogosphere are a couple of threads over at Bitch PhD. She’s opened up a women’s and men’s thread for “honest” talk about sex: what you like, what you don’t. In this case, I actually like that she

My parents both worked when I was growing up; still do. I have fond memories of helping my mom mop up the burger joint on Christmas Eve. Sometimes they worked nights, weekends, holidays, so me and my brother and sister spent much of our time, until I was about 12, at my French grandmother’s house.

I’ve cut carbs until I’m down to one serving per meal (I’m supposed to be eating 3-4), and the best # I could get was 180, last night, after working out. I increased my goddamn insulin dose agoddamgain This FUCKING INSULIN isn’t FUCKING WORKING. I CAN’T WRITE IF I CAN’T CONCENTRATE ON THE FUCKING SCREEN.

I’ve been tossing and turning in bed, thinking of Durban. I don’t know why I’m thinking of it again, now, suddenly, when I’ve gone so long without talking about it, ruminating, thinking anything beyond, “I drank a lot in Africa.” But I remember. I’m lying awake remembering things; leaning out the big back window of