A Perspective on Vaginas & American Idol Voters

Rarely is anything or anyone 100% correct, cause it’s all about perspective.  It’s easy to believe in the moment – like that obnoxious bitch Judge Judy — that you are absolutely above it all and RIGHT, RIGHT, RIGHT.

So often you’re wrong.  I’m wrong!  I realize my stupidity when I’ve opened my mouth and suddenly the universe responds: “Why is that idiot crossing the yellow line?”  Within seconds I notice the tire of my own car do the same thing.  “Who in the hell put this drink here, the one I just knocked over?”  A moment later I remember it was me.  It’s always me.

At home or in the privacy of the car my mouth opens far too quickly and I express my thoughts in a manner similar to the movie character Carrie on her rampage, after having been covered by pig’s blood at prom.  

In mixed company I think twice, I keep opinionated statements to myself because I really believe there is some merit to nearly every point of view AND I fear argument, dissension and conflict.  (If I had any sense at all I’d be more worried about the 11 year old hearing my crazy comments.) 

Most of all, I want people to like me: homeless schizophrenics, criminals, friends, enemies, children, total strangers & people I will never, ever see again.  I want them to LOVE me.  So I do a chameleon thing.  I’m not proud of that fact, it’s a character defect, but at least I own it as MY character defect.

This is why I don’t talk about politics & have recently added a new toxic subject area:

American Idol

There are but a few things I’ve had such strong beliefs about that I’m willing to expose myself and stand up for what’s right: real butter over margarine, bras with an underwire for heaving bosoms.  However, life is even chipping away at some of those long held certainties!

There was a time when I believed in natural childbirth.  I bought the bullshit, I refused an epidural.  (Meanwhile, my crackhead niece didn’t even have prenatal care and the kids are perfectly fine!)  Labor lasted 37-1/2 hours.  They pulled and told me to push, which messed me up.  I am convinced you want NO FURTHER DETAIL.  (My shame filter is gone, so I’m doing this only for your benefit cause I’D LOVE TO TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT!)

Eleven years later, I find out I’m pregnant.  The FIRST thing I tell the doctor, who writes it AT THE TOP of my information sheet: “PATIENT REQUESTS EPIDURAL.”  A change of perspective.

Recently I was speaking with a young woman who is pregnant with her second child.  She is adamant that this birth experience be the ultimate of all time to make up for the fact that the first one didn’t go as planned.  The anxiety she expressed over the possibility of losing control in the birthing room was palpable and pushed my superwoman buttons.  I decided I should tell her a tale from my own life.  What a dumbass I am!  It’s like I thought I was 78 years old for a minute.  This chick did NOT want to hear what I had to say, but I didn’t care.

(I might have gone a little too far, you judge.)

She told us she is diabetic and the doctors are more conservative in treatment than she would like to be.  (Homeschoolers typically are unhappy unless they can give birth squatting over a dirt floor inside a straw hut with no medical assistance for miles or alternatively while bathing in organic dolphin pee.)  She’s concerned a cesarean section will be necessary (to save her life, duh). 

So I stepped in as the voice of reason & said, “Either way, you walk out with a baby!  It’s all good!”  The expression on her face didn’t seem to register my wise counsel, so I had to go further.  I told her I used to adamantly believe women should wait until they go into labor, they should not schedule childbirth the way they would a dog grooming.  She nodded her head in agreement.  I said, “Then I had a 9 pound baby and a 10 lb., 11 oz. baby, both delivered vaginally.”

This is where I may have stepped off the grid.  I added, “Those women who scheduled cesareans?  They now have nice tight vaginas.  I’m thinking they’re not as stupid as I might have initially believed!  I mean, I’m not saying my vagina is a BIG GAPING HOLE or anything, but still!”

* * * * *

Anyway, my point regarding American Idol being . . .

one of them stood head & shoulders above the rest.

If I heard 20 people sing the same song I could not identify Kris Allen’s voice after listening to him sing weekly for several months.

However, if I heard 1,000 people sing the same song I could identify Adam Lambert because his would be the very best rendition, time and time again.

So . . . I’m not saying that the vacuous people who voted for Kris Allen instead of Adam Lambert have big gaping vaginas, but I’m thinking it.

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