Gutbusters

It's the holiday season. During this time of year, the alcohol companies start hocking their wares. I thought since we don't watch much network TV, we'd likely not see much on that front. However, on Hulu and Amazon both, I've witnessed Wild Turkey with a side of Matthew McConnaughey, Mondavi wines featuring everyday pretentious folks, and Smirnoff starring Ted Danson. 'Tis the season for all types of alcohol and screw you if you have to stop consuming it. *sigh*

Technically guys, that's Santa's job. You know, there's even a song about "Up on the Housetop" and reindeer's paws, not goats.

I've sucked at this whole IBS elimination diet. I thought I could test a few items and that'd be enough. I am so terrible at this thing that it's come down to an all or nothing situation. In order to truly know what my triggers are, I have to let go of all the potentials including alcohol.

Just like that.

To be clear, on this elimination diet, it does allow you one beer or one glass of wine. Thing is: I can't do that. I can maybe hold the wine to one since more increases the risk of migraine depending on the brand. Beer though? Even a limit of two is unlikely. I love that hoppy beverage and I won't pretend I don't.

Maybe not as much as Homer, but you get it, right?

At the start of the school year, my husband and I decided that we should decrease our beer consumption and shoot for only on weekends. Not only a weekend only thing, but I suggested one 12 pack only. We really only go to about 18 mind you, but even that has been tough to manage. We frequently get more like 24 lately on the weekend leaving some for Monday. Gotta finish it, right? Can't leave it alone in the fridge. It's even started to bleed into Thursdays because let's be honest: Thursday is the new Friday and my Thursdays during the last month have been exhausting. Not that it excuses my penchant for imbibing one or two on Friday Eve, but I think you see my point.

Don't tease me. Magic 8 Balls never say that.

It was also Thanksgiving weekend here in the States. Worst. Time. Ever. To try and stick to an elimination diet of this magnitude. The stuffing, the pie, and the alcohol. Just couldn't stay my hand. Consequently, I took the Fuck It approach and indulged telling myself that this is it. Go out with a bang!

Yup, Mr. Bean. That's how I rolled this holiday.

To be clear, I am not a raging alcoholic, but I love beer. I can let the wine go, but beer is my go to. If I want to chill on a summer's day, I reach for an IPA. If I want to unwind on Friday night, I reach for an IPA. If I want something cold while camping, I go to the cooler for an IPA. Can you tell my favorite beer? I drink it almost exclusively.

 Never give your dog beer. That's a terrible idea. And a waste.

I did successfully navigate alcohol free living for about two months in the last year when I was on Topamax. I can do this again right? Of all the items on the elimination diet (and there are a lot like bananas, asparagus, and hummus), beer is going to be tough. What if it's a massive trigger?  It's so ingrained into my evening weekend routine that habit will be difficult to replace. The holidays will be even that much tougher. Alcohol is everywhere this time of year.

I'm sure they are, Karen. Just like you.

There are bonuses to this elimination beyond regulating my gut. It will decrease our grocery bill. My favorite IPA from a local brewery is now available in stores. No more running downtown for a growler, which is also three dollars less than the convenience of the cans in the stores. I was willing to pay the $12 for convenience. While I won't be contributing to a local business, they do a booming business without me. They'll be OK.

Thanks, Bill. Wait, what's that in your hand? Goddammit, Bill.

It also will likely help my migraines. Alcohol is a trigger for some. While I knew that certain red wines can send me to the floor and to the bathroom for a lovely expulsion of my stomach contents, I don't really know the impact of beer. This is a good time to find out I suppose.

Not helping, Worm.

Furthermore, I am highly likely to lose some more weight. While I have been hovering around my preferred weight, last time I dropped alcohol, I fell about 10 pounds. This diet goes 12 weeks before reintroducing foods and liquids. With all the other restrictions, I could fall to a weight I haven't been since I was 15. This could be another chance to reduce my weight and find a way to maintain it at a lower number. Despite not needing to lose weight, it is possible.

If we're being honest, this is not going to happen, so...

OK, so I do look like that running, but that's not how I will lose weight. Ever.

I suppose getting my gut in order should really be enough. Overriding my gut's desire to get backed up or painful or enthusiastic about voiding the leftover stuff my body doesn't need in an urgent fashion should be enough incentive. But damn! I love beer and this is going to be tough. I need to acknowledge that. I need to own this part of myself. Maybe one pint before the sun goes down on this weekend. I got this.

Your skepticism isn't helping, Moose. Don't judge.

The Elephant Predator in the Room

I just roasted up two high jinks pumpkins. I have 6 more mind you. Looks like we'll be rolling in pumpkin puree. Seriously. I went to look online for chest freezers. We'll need one soon. As I was scooping out the pumpkin guts, it occurred to me that anyone who makes excuses for Roy Moore, the Orange Man, and lack of gun control seriously has their priorities out of order.

Poor Kid. You have no idea.

Roy Moore: People are actually making excuses for this man. They have even used the Bible to excuse his behavior. I mean, Lot tossed his virginal daughters to the crowds and then impregnated them, so why not allow Moore to have his way with as many underage women as he wants, right? Clearly if the Bible allows it, then we should also not censure Moore for statutory rape. I read an article that said he was known for going around his hometown trolling for underage young women. The people in the town knew about it and did nothing. That's the height of disgusting and ambivalent behavior. I've also heard the what-about-ists claiming, "But Bill Clinton! He got to remain President!" Ok I see your point... to a point. Moore's victim was underage. That's the bottom line here. While Clinton did get a a bit of a pass on the blowjob and the lying (Slick Willy and all) he also did not prey on underage women. What he did does not in anyway excuse what Moore did. Period. To still cast a vote for this man rather than boot him out is reprehensible. Even the Democrats ousted Anthony Weiner for sending dick pics. Al Franken has openly invited investigation into the allegations against him. Surely someone will come to their right mind and tell the Republican party enough! Moore's got to go.Why the party is even allowing him to stay in the race is hideous.

You know it, Dean. Bad taste indeed.

That Jerk Who Shall Not Be Named: Let's move on to the embarrassment we have to accept as our leader*shudder* He was elected even though he was on tape bragging about sexual assault and was accused of walking in on the contestants of the Miss Teen USA Pageant. Oh yeah! And then there was the rape case involving a 14 year old that quietly got settled and/or ignored. I supposed one could say that too many absentee ballots had been cast, but I don't think that's the case here. Given the lackluster condemnation of Moore, I think it has more to do with the Republican Party's sexism. It's that simple. Women and young girls exist as objects for sex only: be pretty honey, but not slutty; smile even though you want to run screaming; just take it because I'm big and powerful and will make your life hell if you talk. I'm sure some female Republicans would disagree with me, but they damn well better not have voted for nor currently support either one of them. If they dare to blame the women, then fuck them! The teen contestants had an expectation of privacy and he violated it. The women he accosted had a right to bodily autonomy. Period. There is no excuse and to make excuses for him is reprehensible.

Like your soul, you bastards!

Gun Lovers: Then there are the gun enthusiasts who never seem to think it's the right time to talk about enacting laws to prohibit private ownership of assault weapons and  modifiers that allow the guns to create even more mayhem in a mass shooting situation. Of course, when people chose the Second Amendment over protecting children, they showed their true colors. When they called conspiracy! It didn't happen! They don't really want to protect children at all. Ever. If they claim to be right to life and they also believe that nothing can be done to protect children from mass shootings, they lie. They tacitly accept they are helpless to make any kind of change, which is total bullshit. They are complicit in every death that has occurred since Sandy Hook. Of course, now there are those bulletproof shields to put in backpacks so some scumbag can profit off the fear. Way to go free market! Make the kids wear body armor to school so you can make a buck. That makes total sense you exploitative assholes!

*Needs no caption Speaks for itself*

It's become rather clear as I squish and squash my pumpkins that Republicans really don't give a damn about the children in this country. They have traded their family values for unfettered pedophiles and unlimited gun access. Don't even get me started on their education policy. Make no mistake, if you're underage, the Republican party will choose their politicians and gun money over you every fucking time.

Best keep running, Li'l Moose.

Taking Action

Awhile ago I was sitting in this little dive bar listening to not awful karaoke with an old friend. While my friend went to have a smoke, this man I didn't know who must have been at least 50, put his jacket down on my friend's stool. I told him politely that the stool was taken. He said he'd move it when my friend returned. I stared at him in disbelief. As my disbelief turned to fury, the man held my stare as if challenging me to say more. I finally broke gaze and turned to my husband and said, "Can you believe this dick?" The man then proceeded to approach me and retorted, "Hey! I'm not a dick. Your friend isn't here. Don't be a bitch." I of course responded, "Oh! Now you're going to listen to a woman? Since I seem to have your attention, move your fucking coat before I put it on the floor." He was a bit taken aback. He didn't back down until his buddy said, "Hey man. Just take your coat. Let's go."

OK, fine, Goat. That's not what happened at all. 

What did happen was this: All of it is true up to the point where I turned and spoke to my husband. Then I nonchalantly flipped the guy off, but he had the good sense to move along. When my friend came back, the man politely moved his jacket and and made a show of his magnanimous gesture of goodwill to which I smiled with more sneer than genuine kindness and gave him a finger waggle wave and brush. He moved along and did soon after leave with his buddy. 

So what if I flipped him off again. He left.

Afterward though, I was still filled with anger. I could't let it go. I kept seeing his ugly, smug, smarmy face staring me down like some schoolyard bully. It still gets my ire up even now to think about it and it's been almost a month. My voice was startled into silent submission. The fact of the matter though is that I didn't put up more of a resistance. I was scared. Even though we were in a crowded bar and my husband was nearby, I felt like this man could be a threat and I might not be safe continuing the confrontation. 

Yeah. I was a chicken. Not even a cool chicken like this one that rides a turtle. Just a wimpy chicken who lacked the fortitude to stand up for herself without fear of reprisal.

Like so many other women, I felt suddenly unsafe. Faced with a bonafide asshole who probably would say he wasn't a sexist, I was speechless and couldn't give him my best Julia Sugarbaker. He was, after all, drunk, and drinking does things to people like make them more prone to violence. I have been subjected to this kind of jerk-ass sexism more than once: a doctor who made a comment about my weight being inappropriate and likely a factor of my lupus. Mind you, my weight was right in the average range for my height and about 20 pounds lighter than when I had first started seeing him. The doctor who did my vertebrae fusion made comments about my yoga practice and said that the only people he knew in California who did yoga were men who went to watch young women's asses (most likely downward dog). He also made reference to my nail polish that matched my toenail polish, my thin, ballerina neck, and my belly dance as if it was stripping because his wife would never be ok with going to see us dance at the restaurant (as if what we do is somehow dirty). None of which had any bearing on my surgery mind you. Of course, there was also the asshat who was drunk at the restaurant and said horrid things to me while pulling my skirt back and looking at my ass.

I'm not usually prone to violence as a solution, 

but I good slap across their misogynistic faces would have felt so good.

None of this makes me unique or special in the world. It's just more of the same sexist garbage that women face every day. Our current president was accused by more than one woman and several underage women, yet he still got into office. Another politician, Moore, who's running for Senate is also facing allegations, but a new poll found that nearly 40% of Evangelical voters would still vote for him. Apparently violating the bodily autonomy of underage women or even adult women is ok with people, especially people who identify as conservative Christians--note I did not say all. But some is enough to send a message that speaking up just puts you on the hot-seat. Speaking up just means that you, not your aggressor, will be the one to pay the price.Women don't even want to believe other women who do speak up. It's unconscionable that these XY predators get a pass. Hell, they even get elected to offices meant to represent the values of America and all its citizens. Apparently for some, it's ok to victimize women, teens, and girls. I'm sure they were asking for it. I'm sure they deserved it for smarting off. I'm sure they enjoyed it:s

Precisely.

After that scumbag at the restaurant assaulted me, my dance teacher advised me to just forget it. She also advised me that it was her training with a firearm that made her feel confident and like nobody could accost her and get away with it. He did something similar to her that night. She told him,"It's not that kind of show." That's when he came at me. If you've ever read any of my others posts, you know I'm not a fan of guns. I have no intention of ever owning one.  I feel strongly that if I had one, then it'd become my default setting. I'd reach for it every time. 

I don't ever want that to be me.

Today, I called about self-defense classes. I've long considered them, but I never enrolled or pursued them with any real intent. Today I did. I figure I will find the courage, confidence, and competence to meet the challenge posed by any one of my previous and yet to be dickwads. I am not so naive to think there won't be more in my future. There will. I'll be ready for them, inner Julia Sugarbaker and all.

All right, Moose. Let's do this.

Frozen

I haven't written much. How can I? It's just overwhelming lately. An incompetent president, a government unraveling, a deluge of assault stories, and yet another goddamned shooting.

Baffles me too, Goat. We should be able to do something about that last one.

I'm frozen. It feels like the snow on roof slid down on my head. It's chilling. It's freezing here. If only it had made my skin into some kind of icy armor. But here I am. Hiding out in my robe avoiding the literal snow and the deep freeze I feel at every headline. It's a whiteout.

Gorgeous and terrifying this picture. Bring on the gorgeous.

Around here we get Chinook winds that give us a break from the winter weather warnings. Reports for the week don't show breaks in the early and fierce winter. I have Sorel boots, a warm knit scarf and hat, and my gloves are ready to wear. We Montanans know how to brave the storms.

I have an electric bed warmer, too. Sorry, Moose.

At least that's one armor I have.