The Liberation of Cami

There is a point – and no one will tell you this – that you realize you are looking the best you will ever look. You find yourself looking in the mirror, and realize that it’s all downhill from that point, looks-wise. Most people are expected to get depressed that they’re not going to look any better.

I have just reached this point, and I find it liberating.

Screw it all! Since I cannot live up to the pressures of Hollywood to only have a stick-thin body (but it is getting better due to the likes of Ashley Graham and company), I can just let it go.

You have no idea how free I feel right now. Call me a crone. The crone is an archetype, who is free from being pressured to look like a teenager, even in her old age. I mean, Madonna is 63, guys! Why doesn’t she go ahead and grow old. I mean, Annette Bening has embraced her wrinkles, and she looks awesome! So has Jamie Lee Curtis, who has ridden her most famous role into the sunset with ease. (That’s Laurie Strode of the “Halloween” franchise, for you information.)

Of course, my mother embraced her crone years ago, so I have that example. So has my Aunt Joan, who is also an example of embracing yourself. Besides, who really needs to go the plastic surgery route in order to keep the illusion of youth, which is really a lie at this point? Sure, I got an eye gel and a moisturizer, plus sunscreen, but it’s really just a formality at this point. Time is now marching across my face, and I couldn’t be more okay with it.

I’m also not looking to bear children at this point, either. So let the young and beautiful do it. I’ll certainly accept a husband who has children of his own, and become a second parent gladly, but bearing them? Not from a person whose entire generation of her family was born by caesarean. I might have to give birth that way if I get pregnant, too. And apparently any pregnancy over 30 is called “geriatric.” I used to think a person who called me geriatric in any measure would be lucky I don’t have a long reach, but now who cares?

The burden of beauty can now be tossed off with glee. I’m free!

Why Do I Say, “For Science” Anyway? I’m Not Even a Scientist!

CONTENT WARNING: Menopause! Perimenopause! Stuff surrounding it!

Okay, self-examination time.

I’ve been noticing a few places where hypocrisy has crept in, like the squishy goo that sometimes comes out of busted mayonnaise packets. One of these places is in my writing. Whenever I report on my perimenopause symptoms, I feel this strange urge to say, “It’s for SCIENCE!” when I’m not even a scientist. See the trouble there? Maybe if we could get Mayim Bialik on the case or something, then maybe it can be “For Science!!!!!” What is the problem? Am I still encumbered by the unhealthy taboos and restrictions of Western society? I certainly am not squeamish about my periods, but I guess they gross men out, so they’re taboo.

Have you noticed I’m not writing to white cisgender males at this point? I’m writing to the period-bearer, which is what people are calling them nowadays, I guess. (I don’t care what you call them, just don’t call them late for dinner.) So, how are you these days, dear? I am getting a month off every now and then these days. Guess it saves on period stuff. A slight tangent – why do we have to spend our money on period stuff? We need it once a month for quite some time. We’re not exactly allowed to Let it Flow, because basically that’s gross, but could we at least get some health insurance coverage for it? It’s a necessity. Scotland has the right idea on this, in my opinion. Let’s get health insurance allowances to cover this! I mean, why not? If Bernie Sanders wants to give everyone Medicare plans with Over-the-Counter allowances, let’s include that! But I digress.

You know, there’s quite a bit surrounding perimenopause. For instance, I get hot flashes after I cook, or when I eat spicy foods. (Just give me something cold to drink if you see me sweat, because I’m not giving up the spicy food.) Also, the mood swings. I can be a pretty terrible person to be around if I get in a mood. It’s under control now, but if you catch me in a bad mood, please, for the love of God, don’t take anything I say with a growl seriously. Our relationship may depend on this.

Of course, there has been discussion around me of horrors like a six-month-long period for some women (AAAAAUGH!) and ten-day ones, but if hormone therapy becomes an option under the medical plan I have, I’ll definitely consider it – especially if long visits from Aunt Flo become a thing.

Valentine’s Day has been Kicked Through the Goal Posts

Okay, let’s take it slow: today is Valentine’s Day. Saint Valentine’s Day, to be exact. But I’m not in a celebratory mood. It’s not for the reason you think, though. You see, yesterday was the Super Bowl, and to be frank, I’m all celebrated out from this football and pop culture phenomenon. I’m in the Eastern US time zone, so maybe it’s the fact that I stayed up pretty late last night having fun. Yes, there are autistic football fans. Need I say we autistic people are practically everywhere again? We are such a widely varied bunch of people that you can find us practically anywhere. I digress, though: Valentine’s Day is kind of falling through the cracks this year because of this, I guess. If I had more money, I would probably get my mom a proper Valentine: in my humble opinion, it would be one of those cards the size of a small child. I love her that much. I would also get her a nice massage. She seemed to enjoy the one she got years ago, and I think it would help her.

As I write, there is something that has come up: I guess there’s not enough spoons for me to handle back-to-back holidays at this time of the year. If I guess correctly, Super Bowl Sunday is kind of an unofficial American holiday, you know?

Just one question for all the Super Bowl people: since this is the first time that hip hop has taken center stage at the halftime show, I’ve got one question: What took you so long?

What It’s Like: Covid-19 Testing

My mother and I just got tested this morning. The county health department is doing them for free…and it’s….quite an experience.

The experience goes as this: my mother and I go to the health department, in our masks, and they direct our car around the building. We show them the IDs, they mark the car, and we get packets of information, with tissues and a mask. We go to the next station, where they do the main testing.

What they do is take a swab and stick it two or three inches into your nasal cavity. (I forgot we have such large nasal cavities!) It goes all the way to the back. (I didn’t know it could go that far!) They get a good sample, and put it into a small tube they have on them with the basic information. (I guess.) Apart from a little discomfort and a bit of mind blowing, it was okay. We’ll probably have the results on Tuesday, because it’s Memorial Day Weekend. As for the tissues, my nose was actually dry, but I do recognize noses are different. If you need a test and can get it, get it.

The big issue is, there’s a pandemic going on out there. I am honestly surprised I did so well at the test with my sensory issues. Isn’t it better to know? We have no plans, per my previous post, so if we have anything, we can isolate properly. And I’m saying “IF.”

Iron Man and Batman: Same Guy, Different Universes?

Now, put down your torches and pitchforks. I am not here to make you choose between Marvel or DC comics. This is not a versus post. To be honest, I am surprised that no one will observe or admit that this is even a thing. I find it proof of the old adage “Great minds think alike,” but if you’re itching for a fight, go down to the local bar and have a drunken brawl, and LEAVE ME ALONE.  

If we are going to be civilized, I would like to point out that there are many similarities between Iron Man and Batman, which I have laid out in this chart:  

Batman	Iron Man
Born into family of rich industrialists	Born into family of rich industrialists
Parents killed	Parents killed by the Winter Soldier (under brainwashing)
Uses a powerful suit filled and gadgets	Uses a powerful suit filled with gadgets
Part of a team of superheroes	Part of a team of superheroes
Industrial Genius	Industrial/Technical Genius
Intense Fight with Superman	Intense Fight with Captain America and Winter Soldier

Now the question is begged: How would this play out? Honestly, it could go one of three ways: One, it could end up in an intense techno-fistfight a la intense fights with previous superheroes, which leads to the destruction of both men’s inventories. Two, it could bring about a bonding over shared experiences. The most likely scenario, though, is a combination of both. What I mean is, there is potential for a large fistfight with, just before the destruction, others intervene, like Superman or Doctor Strange, for instance, revealing the good in both…and eventual bonding and fight against who or what led them to clash in the same dimension in the first place. That is how comics tend to go nowadays.  

What’s Funny Now?

CONTENT WARNING: Talk of offensive humor 

I remember, some years ago, I was  at a Christmas party at a former therapist’s house.  She had dioramas of little taxidermized Titmice (small birds) decorating the house. Being the somewhat humorous person I thought I was, I looked at them, and as somebody passed by, remarked, “Nice tits.” She got the joke of course, but if you said that to any woman, or with any bird nowadays, especially in the age of #MeToo, it would not go over well. So, there’s a question I am asking now: 

Was it even funny back then?  

So now, I’m wondering what’s funny now?  

I mean, blonde jokes, those holdouts from the 1990s, are no longer funny. People joking about trans urges are no longer funny. Here’s how that played out: “Family Guy” had characters remark that Bruce Jenner was an “elegant and classy woman.” But now, what is Caitlyn Jenner but an elegant and classy, albeit majorly tone-deaf, woman? Also, there were so many jokes about Donald Trump being president, but guess who is president? Donald Trump. No matter where you are on that issue, we can all agree that offensive humor is broken. Besides, using “retard” or “autistic” ought to garner a swift throat punch from any person who falls under the hate, am I right? 

Maybe you have to earn being the butt of a joke now, and that’s perfectly fine by me.

Yanny or Laurel: Something Else at Work

Can you believe it? There is a debate raging through English-speaking society, ripping the fabric of society even as we sepak. It’s gotten on all major news outlets, divided the country and is basically causing World War III. It is the “Yanny” vs “Laurel” debate.

Now, let’s get this out of the way. I usually hear “Yanny.” However, when you isolate the higher tones and play the lower tones only, I distinctly hear “Laurel,” and in a much lower register. Now, why is that? I have a theory. It has to do with what dominant tones a person hears. “Yanny” has a high, somewhat nasal effect to it, while “Laurel” has a lower sound. The “Yanny” people might have trouble, as do I, hearing lower tones.

Here’s more evidence of my theory: I have trouble hearing Benedict Cumberbatch at times, especially when he speaks fast. Of course, he is definitely a man of lower tones. But I have no trouble hearing the higher-pitched voices seemingly everywhere in the voices of Japanese animation. Now, think about that for a minute. What if what you hear from that creepy robot voice indicates something else at work? Maybe you have trouble hearing specific tones.

Due to this theory, I would like to propose being kind to those who hear differently. It might actually repair society’s bonds. Oh, who am I kidding? World War III is around the corner.

Your Family is Dysfunctional? Mine Too!

So, the tabloid TV people are ragging on Meghan Markle’s family for being somewhat dysfunctional. It only seems fair to point out that the various lines of the British Royal Family have been dysfunctional since 1066, and earlier if I could ever get the records. Even Prince Harry’s own immediate family has been dysfunctional. I won’t get into it. You can Google that yourself.

I would also like to point out that family dysfunction is actually quite common in this day and age. What is the right marriage? What is the right family? Just about everybody enters adulthood somewhat messed up. I won’t get into that either, but just remember that.

Oh, and one more thing: I opened your closet, you judgmental being, you, and a few skeletons fell out. You might want to clean that up.

My Fuzzy Valentine

OK, let’s get silly for a minute. It has come to my attention that I don’t have a someone to love and love me this Valentine’s Day. Or tdo I? Let’s see the requirements for me:

1. A male (This is MY requirements list.)

2. A heart full of love

3. A handsome look

4. Good character

5. Good Natured

Let’s see….

Close enough. He IS cute.

 

How Christmas Went This Year

After a day of rest, I have enough energy to talk about how I dealt with Christmas.

I don’t really have any more tips, other than know your autistic relative.

Christmas Eve was basically spending an evening at my cousin’s place for food, family and fun. The funny thing is, it was almost entirely about vegetable casseroles, almost all of which I like very much. Off topic, it’s funny how I have come to like vegetables as an adult, even after thinking I would never like them as a child. Somehow, trying new things and culinary adventure came to include veggies in adulthood. Sometimes, one just needs to bite the bullet and try it. There’s no shortcuts to that one. We also got games, good family talking and even some quiet times, too. It was great. I was disappointed in one factor, though; I wanted to talk to the parents of an autistic relative of mine. He’s a young boy, but I would like to have a talk with his parents, you know, to provide some perspective. But they were not there. I was not exactly going to grill them or provide lectures, but it helps when you’re not alone in a family, as I have so often felt.

Christmas Day was a little different. We invited a couple who had just gotten together, but the man in the two was a friend, so it was alright. Much of the food was on my shoulders, but it was very easy. We had Prime Rib, steamed vegetables, rice pilaf, rolls and a salad, plus cheesecake for dessert. It’s not easy to screw up Prime Rib. Twenty minutes at a high temperature and then 25 minutes per pound. It was done within three hours, resting included. That was the hardest part of the meal. I mean, rice pilaf is very easy from the boxes, and I’ve done rolls many times for Thanksgiving. So, easy meal, good food, good friends, and an overall nice time. It started to get very cold when the day was done, so we had to get them home early. We had a nice time, with blocks of quiet book ending the day. Could not have asked for more.