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Greetings, Quotaholics:
Six years ago (has it really
been that long?) Mike wrote
about a surgical procedure called labiaplasty, also referred to as a
"designer vagina", in which the female genitalia are cut,
bobbed, shaped…whatever term you want to use…to create a look that
is more esthetically pleasing (I assume the woman has a catalog of some
sort from which to choose, sort of like hair styles).
Now I have no problem with
things just the way they are, but this procedure is apparently gaining
some traction. Maybe it’s not so hard to understand. After
all, my inbox is constantly peppered with "penile enhancement"
remedies of one sort or another, and I assume there must be a lot of
men who spend money on whatever they’re selling or they wouldn’t bother
with the ads.
To my knowledge the female
counterpart isn’t as widely advertised (yet, at least), but according
to BBC, interest
in the procedure is expanding and the women want the NHS, Britain’s
national healthcare service, to pay for it.
Specialists at a Central
London teaching hospital say they received 30 referrals for the procedure,
mainly from family doctors, over the past three years, including eight
schoolgirls - one as young as 11. The British Association of Aesthetic
Plastic Surgeons says medics need to determine whether a problem exists
or whether an alternative solution may be preferable, but offers no
advice on how to judge whether the procedure might be necessary, say
the researchers from University College London’s Women’s Health Institute.
Dr Sarah Creighton and colleagues
believe the future demand for so-called "designer vagina"
operations or labial reductions is potentially infinite and is driven
by society’s wider and growing desire for cosmetic surgery in general
and changing expectations about what is a desirable appearance for women.
"It’s shocking, particularly
because we are seeing girls who are really young. They are asking for
surgery that is irreversible and we do not know what the long-term risks
of the procedure might be."
She said latest figures
for England show about 2,000 of the procedures are paid for by the NHS
each year.
For the study, they reviewed
all 33 women referred to their clinic between 2007 and 2010 with requests
for a labial reduction. Most of the women were seeking help because
they were concerned about appearance. Only a fifth wanted the surgery
to reduce discomfort. One woman said she felt compelled to have the
surgery after seeing a television programme on cosmetic genital surgery.
Upon examination, all of
the women were deemed to have "normal" genitalia by the doctors.
But three were offered surgery to address "a significant asymmetry".
The remaining 30 were refused any procedure.
While it seems that the
discussion was more about who should pay for such a procedure, I’m trying
to understand the motivation for such dissatisfaction with one’s genitals.
Is it really the same as the male preoccupation with size, or
is there something else at work? Porn, perhaps?
I don’t know, but it does
make me wonder what would drive a normal, healthy woman to go under
the knife for something like this. It doesn’t seem to this male
to be the same thing as a boob job, certainly not the same as a nose
job, yet maybe my gender makes me incapable of fully appreciating what
a woman might think. (I’ve been accused of that before, come to
think of it!)
Are these ladies total crackpots,
or do you think there’s a place for this kind of procedure as a strictly
cosmetic enhancement? And while we’re at it, who should pay for
it? Is it appropriate for the national health care system to foot
the bill? Is it in any way similar to circumcision, which surely
no one complains about paying for? Is it like a tattoo, just an
expression of individuality, or do you think it implies some deeper
psychological problems?
Appreciatively,
Comment
on this article
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| Today’s
Quotes |
A half truth is a whole lie. - Yiddish Proverb
The willingness to accept responsibility for one’s own life is the source
from which self-respect springs. - Joan Didion
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| Today’s
Chuckle |
Large
Order
[Thanks Bonnie]
A
customer sent an order to a distributor for a large amount of goods
totaling a great deal of money. The distributor, noticing that the previous
bill hadn’t been paid, instructed the collections manager to contact
the customer.
The collections manager made the call and left a voice-mail for them
saying, “We can’t ship your new order until you pay for the last one.”
The next day the collections manager received a collect phone call from
the customer who said, “Please cancel the order. We can’t wait that
long.”
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| Life
Sentences |
All mankind… being all equal and independent, no one ought to harm
another in his life, health, liberty or possessions.
All men are liable to error; and most men are, in many points, by passion
or interest, under temptation to it.
Fashion for the most part is nothing but the ostentation of riches.
– all from John Locke, English philosopher, born on this day in 1632
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| Image’n
That! |
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I
Saw Him On The Internet!
[Thanks Tesser]
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| My
Most Embarrassing Moment
My Scariest Moment |
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Speak right up!
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| Cliff’s
Notes
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Mirrors
I use a mirror in my daily activities hundreds of times a day. That
may seem to be a lot, but driving to & from work is where I use them
the most. The simple act of changing lanes will garner the use of mirrors
at least 5 times. I’ll glance in my rear-view mirror that is mounted
on my windshield to get an overview of the current traffic condition.
I’ll glance to my left or right side rearview mirror to check whether
the lane is available. Of course I’ll look forward again just in due
course of watching where I am going. I’ll then repeat the process to
see if it is still clear for me to make my move. A third time will give
me the “up to the moment” situation as I actually make the move. That
is just for one maneuver. I’ll do that many times in the course of the
trip, whether short or long.
Most mirrors I use are flat and are designed to reflect exactly what
is in front of them without distortion. But, not all mirrors are designed
that way. “Fish eye” or convex mirrors are used in many settings to
help someone see around corners. They are not meant to accurately duplicate
the exact dimensions of the object, but, instead, just let you know
it is there. Used in aisles in larger stores, they prevent the cart
bumping at intersections. Used for vehicular traffic, they are used
the same way to keep motorized vehicles from colliding.
Then there are “fun house” mirrors that are warped in precise ways as
to distort the viewer’s appearance to make them look shorter or taller,
wider or skinnier. At one time, clothing retailers were admonished for
using distorted mirrors in their changing rooms to give the impression
the clothes you were trying on had a slimming effect, which, in turn,
would make you want to buy them. They weren’t warped much. They were
warped just enough for the eye to notice a slight difference, but not
enough for the brain to question, “WTF?” Only those with inside knowledge
and/or excellent perception skills were able to see this being done.
So, keep your eye open next time you try on clothes.
For the most part, mirrors are not meant to be deceptive. Decorative,
yes. We use mirrors of various sizes all through our homes and workplaces
for utility and decorative purposes. One vase we have sitting on our
fireplace mantle is made of little mirrored tiles of about 1/4 inch
square. All those little mirrors are meant to do is reflect light much
like a disco ball out on a dance floor. It’s just pretty, but it does
catch the eye. It is doing what it is designed to do.
I don’t know about you, but I drink a lot of water. Being outdoors hiking
and such, I drink more. That causes me more than the average number
of visits to the men’s room. And every bathroom has one or more large
mirrors. Basic morning preparations include uncountable glances into
a mirror to shave or put on make-up. Or both. I’d hate to have to count
the number of glances into a mirror an actor has to make in the process
of getting ready for their day on set. That would probably equal my
whole day right there. They must be setting the curve, for sure.
Here’s your quiz:
Approximately how many mirrors do you encounter in an average day?
Approximately how many times do you glance into a mirror in an average
day?
Did you realize the proliferation of mirrors in American society before
reading this?
Mirrors - Why Do I see My Father In There?
Cliff (the High-Tech Redneck who doesn’t rate a fancy ’signature pic’)
Comment
on this article |
| Ranina’s
Ruminations |
To
say that I do not like going to the dentist would be an extreme understatement.
I am absolutely terrified of dental work. I equate it to sitting
in a chair and willingly letting someone poke a fork in your eye,
while telling you, "Be still, this won’t hurt a bit."
This terror I feel can partially be blamed on a dental experience
I had when I was just a girl. My Mom took me for a routine checkup
that resulted in the dentist finding that I needed a cavity filled.
My Mom left me in the exam room for the drill-and-fill, telling me
not to worry. It would all be fine. Well, everything was
not fine. In fact, absolutely nothing was fine at all.
While drilling, the dentist kept leaning over my face, exhaling a
stale-cigarette smell directly into my nostrils. I felt like
he was exuding a gray, stinky cloud that wafted around my entire head.
I figured I would just have to endure that for a while.
Then the unthinkable happened. The dentist drilled right into
a nerve. My terrified screams of pain must have sounded like
I was being murdered. My Mom burst into the room screaming,
"What’s wrong? What happened?" For those of
you who don’t know, this is a special, exquisite type of agony.
The kind that suddenly jumps out in front of you, viciously bashes
you in the mouth, face and head with a hammer, and then runs off cackling
as you pass out from the pain. I think I was given general anesthesia
after that.
So you see, my fear of dentists was logical. Since then, I have
never willingly gone to a dentist for anything other than a seriously
painful, impacted tooth upon occasion. The dentist always made
sure to do all my x-rays and cleanings when I came in because he knew
I was not likely to return.
I’m going to say sorry to any dentists that may be reading this, but
come on guys! Don’t you realize that placing a patient in a
chair and setting up a tray in front of them that looks very much
like you are planning on performing some medieval torture ceremony
on them is a bit frightening and intimidating? When you set
up that tray and walk out of the room for a while, you know that patient
is going to examine what you will be using.
Let’s see… here’s a very sharp curved thing, a few other very
sharp things that are not as curved, a tool with a little spear on
the end, several types of pliers, scissors, a scalpel, a drill, needles
and (the only thing that looks like it cannot cause suffering) a mirror.
Maybe if you painted them pretty, primary colors they wouldn’t look
so menacing. Okay, maybe not. But why are dentists still
using instruments of torture rather than lasers or something?
I recently went to see a dentist who said I would need to have eight
teeth removed. I have no doubt that this was probably due to
my terror of anything dental, other than a tooth brush. I brushed
my teeth after meals and used an oral rinse, but I guess that was
not enough. After realizing that I absolutely had to have this
procedure done and gathering up all the courage I had that did not
run from me at the very thought of serious dental work, I agreed to
have the procedure done only if I could be sedated. Without
some type of sedation, I knew I would run from the office screaming
all the way home. I got nitrous oxide. They said it would
cost extra and I said, "I don’t care." The nurse,
knowing how skittish I was, told me to also bring my ipod.
Oh
joy! This turned out to be the best, most fun experience at
a dental office I ever had. (Well, there weren’t any other best
or fun or even good experiences before that day.) The nitrous
was started, then the shots were given. I put my earbuds in and entered
the land of mellow. I still heard some of the drilling and crunching,
still felt the pressure and yanking, but I didn’t care.The dentist
had to tell me a couple times to stop foot-tapping and finger-dancing,
but all was well.
And instead of a lollipop afterward, I got some Vicodin. Happy
happy joy!
Comment
On This Article
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Kirsten’s
Krazy Kaleidoscope |
Email Kirsten
“Copy and paste
this to your status if you are always asked to copy and paste something
to your status by folks who copy and paste things to their status. Many
people won’t copy and paste this, but my true friends will copy and
paste. What are you waiting for?”
~ A Facebook User ~
When I was six, we moved to Connecticut for a few years. We lived in
a nice little blue house in a little town called Darien, and my brother
and I caught the bus to school every day. We had a rocky start. I mean
this in a very literal sense: on our first day at our new school, the
other kids threw rocks at my brother and I because we were South Africans
(our move happened right after the 1976 riots, which earned South Africa
international notoreity). However, things settled down into a reasonably
normal life.
For my parents, the move was hard. Both of them had left ageing mothers
at home, and communication was limited to biweekly letters and the occasional
phone call. It was a very different world to the one we live in now,
where I exchange daily emails with my mother and where she can see her
grandchildren growing up through the magic of Webcam.
One day during the era of “snail mail” - I must have been about ten
- I received a chain letter from an unknown source. It was very creepy.
I had to make photocopies of this letter and send it anonymously to
ten people. If I did, I would get all sorts of good luck, and if I didn’t,
terrible things would happen to me and my family.
Feeling way out of my depth, I showed the letter to my mother. She lost
no time in ripping it up and throwing it away. Despite her assurances
that the letter was an ineffective attempt at intimidation and that
I shouldn’t worry, I couldn’t sleep for weeks. Every day I waited for
something dreadful to happen. Gradually, my fears subsided as it became
apparent that no disaster was forthcoming.
The advent of email inevitably came with the onslaught of email chain
letters that got more and more imaginative. Now, if you forwarded an
email to five thousand of your closest friends, one of any number of
things would happen. You would get a phone call with good news, Apple
would send you a free computer, the little kid in the middle of the
jungle who was born with three eyes and seven arms would get the medical
attention he needed, you would see little men dancing across your screen,
or a genie would pop out of your monitor and grant you three wishes.
If, on the other hand, you did not forward the emails, you would lose
all your money, your significant other would leave you, your friends
would abandon you, and you would spontaneously combust at ten past two
on a Friday afternoon while walking towards your favourite coffee shop.
It did not take me long to develop a simple but effective strategy for
dealing with these emails. Every time a new message hit my inbox, I
would skip to the end. If I saw anything at all about the consequences
of either forwarding or not forwarding it, I simply deleted it without
reading it.
Email chain letters seem to have gone out of vogue. I almost never get
them anymore. They have been replaced with something just as annoying
and harder to ignore. I speak, my friends, of Facebook statuses. You
know the ones. They say something like this: Copy and paste this
to your status if you know someone who has cancer, who has had cancer
and survived, or who has had cancer and not survived. 97% of people
will not care enough to copy and paste this.
OK, people.
Newsflash #1. I will not be guilted into copying and pasting something
to my status. My status is MINE, and I will use it for whatever purposes
I like. Not copying and pasting something does not mean I don’t care
about the cause, and it does not make me a bad person.
Newsflash #2. There are better ways to raise awareness for a cause than
by bullying people into posting useless statuses. If you really care
about cancer, or MS, or autism, or infant loss, contact the organizations
that are there for those purposes and ask them how you can help. I’m
pretty sure they will not tell you to post annoying things to your Facebook.
Newsflash #3.To those people who post statuses saying “My true friends
will copy and paste this…”, get over yourselves. I already
know who my true friends are. I don’t need lame a Facebook poll
to tell me who I can trust, who I can confide in, and who would be there
for me if I needed them. If I choose not to fill up my wall with meaningless
posts, that does not call into question my value as a friend. If you
require people to prove their friendship in this inane way, that says
something kind of sad about you.
Next we’ll be seeing “Retweet if you love me” campaigns on Twitter.
Kaleidoscopically yours,
Kirsten
Comment
On This Article |
| Lucille’s
Lunacy |
To say I never can understand Judgipoo is to repeat myself. I never
know what to expect, or how to take him. Compare.
I had a case several weeks ago that I think I mentioned in this space.
There was a restraining order against my client prohibiting her from
contacting her husband except for "court ordered visitation".
You may recall that there was no such court order, and I took the matter
up with Judgipoo, and my ears were soundly scorched for my effort. He
finally agreed to do the right thing, but it was only after treating
me to his usual steam bath. He also said, "I almost went to jail
for one of my clients once –", and I still don’t know how I was
supposed to interpret that. I didn’t dare ask.
I have a new custody case. The father came to me and said that the police
had been called on his wife for child abuse on several previous occasions.
You may think that warranted a trip to court right away, but some of
my clients have made an Olympic sport out of turning each other into
the authorities, so I took a breath before proceeding.
"If the police were involved," I said, "then the Welfare
Department should also have been notified."
"I don’t know of that," he informed me in thickly accented
English. "I ain’t never asked them."
I did ask them, and they advised me that Mama, had indeed been in trouble
a few times for hitting the kids with shoes, coat hangers, wooden spoons,
or what ever object came to hand to express her displeasure. I took
the proper steps to get "DFC" (Department Of Family And Children)
involved. The welfare department said they would back my client up if
he asked for custody.
Judgipoo’s calendar is packed. His secretary asked me if I thought my
case was an emergency. I think it is. Kids can be broken if the right
instruments are applied to their bodies with the right force. However,
part of me has heard Judgipoo inform me in no uncertain terms that my
idea of an emergency doesn’t always jive with his. So, I hesitantly
explained why I thought it was important, although I cautioned that
Judgipoo might not agree.
The next thing I knew, Judgipoo was on the line. My ears shrunk to about
a third their usual size in anticipation of a blistering. "How
soon do you need a hearing?" he asked.
Now, that didn’t tell me I was over the hump. Judgipoo can be civil
when he wants to be, and, he can turn on a dime. I had to balance my
interests. Did I want to risk death, or — oh well — we were on the
phone. My wounds would be verbal, and those kids really did need to
be safe. "It’s pretty serious," I explained the whole situation
again.
"How about this Thursday at 3:00," he asked.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t make me lay my reputation on the line. He
didn’t really do anything but confuse the heck out of me. Viva La Differance!
Comment
On This Article |
| Poet-Tree |
|
Ice!! My favorite part of a hot summer!
Try this one if you’re not afraid -
There once was a man with no fear…
Hints:
Here’s a great new rhyming/composition tool. http://www.writerhymes.com/
There’s also a great rhyming dictionary at http://www.rhymezone.com/
Limerick rules. http://freespace.virgin.net/merrick.sheldon/limerickrules.htm
Submit
Opening Line
Submit
Limerick
I
stopped at the store for some ice
I needed it for a device
That made drinks to die for
I just had to have more
Smoothies, they are my number one vice.
- Bonnie >^,,^< |
I stopped
at the store for some ice—
but the clerk wasn’t very nice—
she said "GO TO HELL,
I HATE THE WAY YOU SMELL",
so off my head I flicked her some lice.
- Cassandra in New York |
The
golfer fell down on the green—
but went the full day, sight unseen—
got up the next day,
and wasn’t feeling gay
in fact he was feeling very mean.
- Cassandra in New York |
I
stopped at the store for some ice…..
To make the tea really nice…..
Though some like it hot…..
And some like it not…..
Still some like added spice
- Skeeter |
The
man had chased after his hat—
but he lost it, ’cause he was fat—
so soon he gave up
and said "That really sucked"
with a clap of his hands, that was that.
- Cassandra in New York
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Reader Comments |
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Re: Grief
Just
last year on August 23RD my beloved Rowdy Dog of 14 years died. I
did not get to put him any place where I could go and visit a grave,
or anything like that, due to where I was living at the time, but
it hurt me deeply to lose that dog, and this year when I had my remembering
time it was both sweet and bitter. Having Campbell the wonder dog
has helped me alot, but to those of you who love your pets, I can
tell you I understand what you go through when you lose one. To you
Cliff, I think that it is neat that you allow your family to call
on you during these times. So many wouldn’t take it seriously at all.
They just think of animals as things with no meaning, but as we animal
lovers know they are so much more. - Tazz
How
do you handle grief? One day at a time, sometimes for a lot of days.
No parent is supposed to outlive their child. But she died suddenly
one night after a terrible battle with a previously unknown rare genetic
problem. She left two daughters - and me. Those girls have been lovingly
raised by their dad and God Parents half a continent from Ohio, and
are both adults now. And we’ve all remained very close along the way.
Pain sinks into a heaviness sometimes - like now. And each time I
visit New Mexico, the three of us place a pink rose on her grave.
She died in 1988. The world lost a most loving, giving bright person
remembered by all who ever met her. Well, she was a Sunday’s Child,
and lived it. That memory helps lift the weight of her loss. - Nancy
L in Ohio
Re:
Drug Testing
We
have been wasting money on the "war on drugs" since Nancy
Reagan’s day. If the whole country hasn’t come to its senses, there
is little hope that Florida will. Only our federal gov’ment would
rather see the trouble in Mexico’s border towns rather then let us
all get a little high. Don’t get me wrong. I never do that sort of
thing. After all, I’m an attorney, and wouldn’t dream of breaking
the law, lying or… - Lucille
The
latest official word on addictions in general is that they are caused
by a lack of ability to enjoy normal life. Sometimes that is mostly
because of unfortunate brain wiring and programming, and sometimes
due to the tragedies of life. Either way, they should not be used
as an excuse to kick people when they are down, or enrich a testing
company. Some people think that by providing welfare we frustrate
evolution (oddly, sometimes the same folks who don’t officially believe
in it  However, these are odd times to be picking survivors from.
I once designed a tee shirt for XXL only reading "This shirt
contains the genes that got YOUR ancestors through a famine."
"The persons who remain poor are the entirely foolish, the
entirely wise, the idle, the reckless, the humble, the thoughtful,
the dull, the imaginative, the sensitive, the well-informed, the improvident,
the irregularly and impulsively wicked, the clumsy knave, the open
thief, and the entirely merciful, just, and godly person."
- John Ruskin
He preceded that with : "In the community regulated only
by laws of demand and supply, but protected from open violence, the
persons who become rich are, generally speaking, industrious, resolute,
proud, covetous, prompt, methodical, sensible, unimaginative, insensitive,
and ignorant." These days, I would add that the richest
seem pathologically divorced from truth and sympathy. A few dollars
on welfare are just a whiff of what the rich waste, not only today,
but for all future generations. - Bob of the North
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Disclaimer- All quotes printed in this publication are believed to be
accurately attributed, but no guarantees are made that some incorrectly
attributed, or even outright false quotes won’t get in here from time
to time. I assure readers that I will do my best to weed out incorrect
quotes, and will print a retraction as soon as I become aware of any errors.
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If you run across something really outstanding when perusing the archives,
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and point it out to me. I’m in the process of compiling an e-book
called, not surprisingly, The Best of RGQ, and I’d like to hear from you
which pieces impacted you the most.
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