Tasty Cakes

A friend of mine recently told me about her teenage daughter who decided to take the plunge into adulthood and lost her virginity.  Of course all you parents out there dread that moment when your children make that ground breaking decision to have sex for the first time.  My friend told me she had a conversation with her daughter and attempted to explain that once you lose your virginity, you can never get it back.  For a woman, it’s supposed to be special and you share it with the person you care about as a way to express your love.

As each generation of young teenage girls explode onto the scene, the players play the same game but the rules change.  Each generation of ladies become more empowered, independent, sexually expressive, demanding and quick to not make the same mistakes as their mother’s generation.

You have to take the good with the bad.  You find that women are now being blamed for more domestic violence than ever before.  We are quick to throw a punch to keep from being beat on.  You find that women lose their virginity at younger ages and are mothers before they are old enough to drive.

Other than sex education classes in school (beginning in the fourth grade) teaching me how my body will change when puberty sets in, I didn’t have a lot of valid information.  No one told me how once my body began to change that I would have all these raging hormones and emotions that I could not put into words.  I was not taught that as I developed I would have a whole new set of problems to deal with.  I’m a little jealous that I don’t have a funny, uncomfortable story to share here that mentions “my flower”.

The closest thing I can share is when my grandparents took me school shopping one summer.  For most girls, I’m sure it is an exciting moment to buy your first training bra with the pink flower pinned in the middle.  I rather dreaded that moment as it meant I no longer would be accepted on the football field by the boys in the neighborhood.  On top of that crushing thought, a pink flower?  Really, that’s all the fashion industry could come up with at that time?  Ugh, pink for a tomboy is like kryptonite for Superman.

Here we are at Northland Mall shopping in Sears.  My grandma is smiling and excited for me however she can tell I wanted no part in this.  She was an angel, being patient and not reacting to my Whitney Whiner mood.  I’m searching the store making sure no one I know is around as my grandma keeps picking out bras.  Just when I think the coast is clear and I may survive this awful outing…out jumps my grandpa.  He’s holding this Dolly Parton sized bra with cups that I swear I could have curled up in and died.

“Hey Katie, do you know what this is called?  It’s a hope chest.  You hope you get one this big!”  Mortified, I take off.  No chance in hell, not enough money in the world for me to claim him.  My grandma (through snickering), “Now Bill, that’s not funny!”

Of course now even writing this, I’m laughing to myself.  He was so amused and proud of himself.  What can I say? Embarrassing humor runs rampant through my family.

So as my nameless friend is expressing her frustrations concerning her teenage daughter, I just listen and nod.  Sympathizing as I realize she had no chance in getting through that thick skull of a teenager, I come up with a thought.  Instead of telling her how she’ll never get her virginity back and sex with the man she marries will not be special, try a different spin.

Open her eyes to the next new craze of women and the internet.  A woman in her early twenties, still a virgin just finished college.  She has decided she wants to go to graduate school and figures she will write her thesis on sex through the races and religions.  What a better way to research than to auction off your virginity?  Last I heard it was up to a few million dollars.

Next time one of you parents out there has the “talk” with your daughter do not attempt the whole “it has to be special so save it for the man you marry” topic.

Just put it simple and in terms they will understand, “Keep your tasty cakes to yourself.  The longer you wait, the more money you can squeeze out of the man!!”

Racially Legal?

A friend of mine told me recently that I post entirely too many status updates on Facebook that I should save the insight and write into some sort of  blog instead.  Either he is fucking with me when he says, I’m entertaining or he’s smarter than I give him credit for.  I guess it doesn’t really matter as I’m giving this blogging thing a shot…

I’m very random and tend to make comments on the day I’ve had or the weird things I see on a daily basis.  So for tonight, I will give my recount on the dining experience I had this evening.

My boyfriend and I went to dinner and beside us is the Wally Fart workers table on their evening lunch break. Here I figured this would be the most enjoyable people watching experience and it only turned out to be lame compared to our 2 waitresses.

First there was Mercedes who was more excited to wait on Ray the toothless Wally Fart  3rd shifter than us.  I guess he must tip better…who knows?  She brought us our drinks and then said, “Please don’t think I am ignoring you but I’m going on break.  Shonda will be right out to take your order.”

I know…boring so far.  But then out comes Shonda.  She takes our order and leaves.  I look at my boyfriend and whisper, “Ok, so Mercedes and Shonda are both hillybilly white girls.  Seriously, is that even racially legal?”

While I realize that there are no written in stone rules of how each race names their offspring, there has to be an unwritten rule out there.  Or perhaps, there are people out there naming their  children such off the walls names for people like me to be confused by.