Female genitalia is sooooooooooo complex and so are we! I went on Buzzfeed to see if I could take one of their quizzes to figure myself and my organs out.  You see, I enjoy answering questions where the answers have randomly assigned meanings so I know which Harry Potter character I would be if I ever found myself inside those books or the best place for me to live — which is London, by the way.  And Buzzfeed knows that because I prefer beer over wine and think the colour blue is awesome.

But when I got to Buzzfeed, I discovered that there was no quiz that let me know whether I’m a uterus or an ovary.  Like none.  Which means, zero.   There are quizzes that let me know how “metal” my period was or if I’m human, (P.S., I am) but none that use my genitalia to make broad, sweeping generalizations about my personality.

Before I got to Buzzfeed, I was positive (and planning to write a freakin’ PhD on this subject) that your personality could predict your infertility diagnosis.  For instance, maybe if you have premature ovarian failure, you’d be more prone to dropping things, like, right after you pick them up.  So you don’t hold onto them for… well… for a long time.  Or, I thought, if you didn’t pick up on hints in a conversation, you were maybe a fallopian tube.  It all made sense in my brain, I just needed a quiz to prove it.  I mean, Aretaeus already started this work with his floating uterus theory.  But who was going to finish the work?  And how would I know if this was true and if personality had anything to do with infertility if Buzzfeed wouldn’t give me a quiz to help me find out?

Since it was missing from Buzzfeed, I decided to create my own quiz that lets you know whether you’re an I’ve-got-to-be-seen Vulva or a saucy little Uterus.  No fancy coding here: ladies (and gentleman who are inexplicably taking this quiz), you’re going to have to keep track of your answers on an old-fashioned piece of paper.

Please answer these random questions that seemingly have no meaning to find out which body part you are.

Question One: How far would you go for a $10 Starbucks gift card?

A. I’d drive at least 5 miles.

B. I’d walk across the parking lot.

C. I’d bend down and pick it up off the street if I happened to walk by it.

D. I would steal it out of someone’s back pocket, even if they looked as if they needed the coffee more than I did.

E. I would pet a cat.

Question Two: Did you shower today?

A. Yes, I shower every day.

B. I think I showered today, but I don’t really remember.

C. No, but I showered last week.

D. I’m not allowed to take showers.

E. I’ve already taken five showers, and I’m currently planning my sixth.

Question Three: The elevator doors open, and it’s filled with zombies.  What do you do?

A. Get inside and take the risk that they eat my brains.  I didn’t wait for the elevator for nothing.

B. Take the escalator.  Zombies aren’t worth the risk.

C. Take the stairs.  If there are zombies in the elevator, there could also be zombies on the escalator.  You can never be too careful.

D. Leave the mall; I didn’t need that new pair of jeans anyway!

E. Join them because I’m also a zombie so no harm, no foul.

Question Four: How do you eat a banana?

A. I mush it up and then mix it into yogurt.

B. I cut it up into chunks and spear it with a toothpick.

C. I feed it to my pet monkey.  Actually, I’m just kidding.  I only wish I had a pet monkey but they’re not allowed by my home owners association.

D. I feed it to my pet monkey.  I really have one!

E. I peel back the peel and eat it like a normal human being.

Question Five: You won a free trip from a travel agency.  Where do you want to go?

A. Wait, there are still travel agencies around?

B. Is the travel agency in a brick-and-mortar building?  How do they afford the rent?

C. That travel agency next to the Starbucks is still around?  I thought it closed years ago and became a Jos. A. Bank.

D. Uh, do they know about the Internet?

E. France!

Question Six: Which type of cookie are you?

A. I couldn’t find the Buzzfeed quiz that told me that either, so I don’t know the answer.

B. Wheeeew, I found that Buzzfeed quiz, and I know for a fact that I’m a snickerdoodle.

C. I’ve long suspected that I was a thin mint, but then I was told that I was a samoa.

D. I’m a chocolate chip cookie partially burned on the bottom but still edible.

E. I’m a doughnut.  I mean, a doughnut cookie.  It’s a real thing.

Question Seven: What colour is the scrap of paper you are using to record your answers?

A. Skin-coloured; I’m using the palm of my hand!

B. Skin-coloured; I’m using the palm of someone else’s hand!

C. Skin-coloured; I found a pack of post-it notes the exact colour of my skin.

D. Skim-coloured; this paper is the colour of skim milk.

E. Mel, I’m not answering this question.

Question Eight: Why wouldn’t the people who chose “E” for the last question answer that question?

A. They’re too scared about what other people think.

B. They’re too drunk to discern the colour, but they don’t want to admit that because they’re currently at work.

C. They’re sort of annoyed and only endure posts like this to get to the next Friday Blog Roundup.

D. Because the correct answer was not one of the other four answers.

E. Because they’re contrary on purpose like a toddler.  Nice job, grown-up.

Question Nine: Are you still taking this quiz?

A. No, I checked out about two questions ago.

B. No, I decided I was hungry for a banana and a cookie after reading those questions.

C. Yes, I always finish whatever I start.

D. Yes, I finish what I start when I’m going to find out what body part I am most alike, though I quit most other things midway through.

E. Wait, are you serious?  We were supposed to take this quiz?

Answers

Mostly A: You’re a Vulva.  You want everyone to see you and adore you.  You may not be the first one at the party, but you’re definitely the one people notice.  You are the Victoria Beckham of the genitalia world.  You love a good selfie, so you never leave home without a camera.  But even though you’re always noticed, people never get your name right!  They’re forever calling you by your bestie’s name.  Silly people!

Mostly B: You’re a Vagina, the ultimate bridge between your fun-loving, always open Vulva bestie and anxious Cervixes everywhere.  You’re the peacemaker, the passageway that brings all the great ideas to the group.  People may not notice you like they do your best friend, but you’re a really important member of the gang and they love whatever you bring to the group.

Mostly C: You’re a Cervix.  Let me guess: your arms are currently crossed over your chest as you read this.  Loosen up, Cervix!  We know you’re the one in the gang who is always looking out for nasty business trying to break up the group, but sometimes you need to let your hair down, have a shot of Jäger, and party.  Um… wait, scratch the Jäger: you’re also the one girl in the gang who can’t hold her liquor when the going gets tough.  Maybe we need you to be your serious, uptight self.

Mostly D: You’re an Ovary.  You’re the firework in the group, the one who is bubbling over with energy.  You’re cute, fun, and pop with life!  Wait a second… is that your twin?  Double the fun.  Not a twin?  Don’t worry, singletons are fine too.  And as they say, it only takes one…

Mostly E: You’re a Uterus.  Like an elderly lady’s pocketbook, who the hell knows what you’re hiding.  You’re a secretive little minx, and people would kill to be able to peer into you at their will.  But as always, you smile that mysterious smile and drive them wild.

I would tie it all in to your infertility diagnosis, but unfortunately, as Aretaeus predicted, my uterus was drawn towards a fragrant smell coming from my kitchen and is therefore traveling up to my nose.  Making it… well… hard to think with this uterus in my face.  Never cook and make quizzes at the same time.

Please let me know which body part you got.  I’m going to make a pie chart very soon that shows the breakdown of quiz takers to find out which body part ended up being the most popular.  Since it’s important to be popular (#badadviceforteens).

Proving just how enormous and scattered the ALI blogosphere is, I had never heard of the Wiegands until they released the trailer for
American Blogger, though the wife of the filmmaker — Casey Wiegand — started her blog after her miscarriage.  The women in the film are all Casey’s friends from the blogosphere, but I don’t recognize any of them.

I am going to be completely mortified if one of you writes and tells me that you were in the film.  Actually, no wait, I’m not going to be mortified.  You’re bloggers.  I pay attention to your words, not what you look like.  Excluding the people I’ve already met, I can only identify a handful of you by sight if I bumped into you in the grocery store, and that’s with staring at your Facebook picture in my newsfeed.  Most people don’t look exactly like their picture anyway.

It works both ways: you likely wouldn’t be able to pick me out of a crowd.  I’ve only be recognized once.  And it was in an airport bathroom.  And it was only because the person had been reading Life from Scratch and had the book closed and facedown in her lap during the flight, so she was staring at my picture for awhile.  And then I was washing my hands in the same airport bathroom.  How trippy is that?

Do you guys know who is in this film?

*******

I have fallen deeply in love with Newman’s Own Cinnamon mints.  I’ll admit that I avoided buying them for years because the tin exclaims in bright red letters HOT.  And I wasn’t so into the idea of putting something in my mouth that visually proclaimed itself to be so spicy that it made tigers growl.  And then on a whim, I bought a box.  And ended up eating the whole thing in a few days.  And then purchasing two more boxes: one for the purse and one as a back-up.

They’re not that spicy.  They have a great taste of cinnamon.  They’re sort of like a red-hot without cringe-y ingredients like confectioner’s glaze (otherwise known as an excretion of the lac bug).  And they’re always now in my purse if you want one.

*******

And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week.  In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “Breathing Is Hard: Thoughts On Crying And Singing” (Schrodinger’s Catbox)
• “On Grief: The Quiet Moments” (My Cheap Version of Therapy)
• “Scars” (Sweetest in the Gale)
• “Late for the Party” (Mine to Command)
• “It’s a Hike” (Conceptionally Challenged)

Okay, now my choices this week.

An Engineer Becomes a Mom about releasing her anger.  It is an incredibly powerful post, and the author lets out a loud roar, especially to the people who make armchair judgments while her heart is in the middle of the fray.  “It’s hard to own up to this anger that as an adoptive parent.  We are supposed to say and do the right things, think child-centric, be compassionate to the parents, and sometimes to let ourselves get hurt during the process.  Because we do get hurt during the process.”  It’s a must-read.

A Half-Baked Life has a post about losing the house they were about to buy that reminded me of house hunting in the middle of treatments.  She draws her own analogy between miscarriages and buying a house, as well as pointing out the ways these two life experiences diverge.  It’s a great post, plus you get the villanelle “One Art” to boot.

Lastly, Silent Sorority has a post about the concept of “healing” and whether it’s an accurate term to ever use in regards to suffering.  She talks about a recent David Brooks piece, pointing out that “We’re reminded daily that it’s bad form to remain too long in a negative state. Society is uncomfortable — plain and simple — when the iconic happy face is not front and center.”  I absolutely love this line: “There’s nothing quite so dark as seeing yourself at your worst and then discovering your heart is blacker than you might have imagined.”

The roundup to the Roundup: Who is in American Blogger?  Love Newman’s Own Cinnamon mints.  And lots of great posts to read.  So what did you find this week?  Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between April 4th and April 11th) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week?  Read the original open thread post here.

You’ve probably heard of the Heartbleed bug that is the biggest Internet infection ever.  You need to change your passwords, and you need to change them now.  Everywhere.

Mashable has create a handy list that states which passwords are definitely affected (Facebook, Pinterest, Gmail) and ones that are likely affected (Apple or eBay) as well as a few that are definitely not affected (Paypal and Walmart).  CNet also has a list of which sites have fixed the problem (and therefore, it’s okay to change your password).

So take this as an opportunity to do a few things:

1. Change your passwords.  Make a new, unique password for each site.  Never use the same password in two places.

2. Write down your new passwords and put this list in a safe place to be used in the event that something happens to you.

3. Close down any accounts you opened but do not use.

4. Make sure to enter the new passwords into accounts on your mobile devices so everything works once you leave the house.

Consider this your public service announcement for the day.

The only thing I could think of as I watched Dove’s latest video is that these women have a weak will to live. Why else would they allow a cosmetics company to place a medicinal patch on their arm without knowing what was “seeping” into their body? Seriously, who are these women (besides actresses) who would allow a random stranger to place something on her body that is supposed to change her without so much as taking a second to say, “hey, wait, what is in this thing?”

Dove’s advertising drives me crazy. They are a company selling a range of products which are meant to enhance you — physically and smellfully. (That’s a real word, right?) They only make money if you buy their soap or shampoo or deodorant, all things they’ve worked hard to convince you that you need because your skin is too dirty, your hair too limp, and your armpits too smelly without it. They are part of the problem. They are out there, convincing women that they’re not good enough as is.

I’m fine buying into the idea that it helps society at large if I mask body odors and engage in other hygienic practices such as washing and combing my hair instead of walking around with a rat’s nest atop my head. I’m even fine using Dove products. But what pisses me off is when companies that continue to perpetuate the problems they’ve created in the female psyche make self-righteous commercials painting themselves as the saviours who rush in to tell those silly women that they can stop feeling like dreck and start realizing just how precious they are.

You are fucking beautiful, and you do not need a beauty product company to tell you that.

How about some honest advertising?

In my Dove commercial, the script opens with a woman walking into a drugstore feeling decent about herself.  She picks up a greeting card for a friend’s birthday, drops some Cadbury Easter eggs in her basket, and then wanders over to the shampoo aisle.  The woman bites her lip, looking at all of her options.  Wow, her body language says, I sort of never noticed just how many shampoos are out there.  And they all seem to promise something unique.  They’ll make thin hair look fuller.  And full hair look tamed.  And blond hair look lighter.  And dark hair look richer.  And curly hair look straight.  Wait… fuck… and straight hair look curly.  And…

I hate my hair.  I hate it.  I wish I could shave it all off.  No, wait, short hair is ugly.  I think I read that in a magazine.  Men don’t like women with short hair.  But wait.  Long hair makes you look ridiculous; like you’re trying to hang onto youth with your nubby little claws.  Oh my G-d, my nails look like shit too.  I need to get a manicure.  No, wait, I can’t afford a manicure because I make 77 cents to my husband’s dollar.  I’ll just buy some nail polish while I’m here.  But what colour?  Because aren’t you supposed to match your nail polish to the season?  Isn’t that why makeup companies release new colours every few weeks?  I don’t want to get the wrong colour.

Who are these sultry women on the hair colour boxes?  I should dye my hair.  I’ll look old if I don’t cover up the grey.  I’m an embarrassment to society if I actually look my age.  I should get plastic surgery done.  How do these women on the boxes look so good?  They have no pores.  Where did their pores go?  How does a person erase their pores?  Is there a product that does that?  Oh my G-d… there is.  Pore minimizer.  I need to buy this.  And this.  And this.  I am so ugly.

The scene ends with the woman’s shoulders bowed forward as she pays for all of her products and leaves, and then sits in the car with the engine off, feeling like crap.

THAT would be truthful advertising from a beauty product company.

P.S. I had a different title on this post. But every time a comment came into my inbox with the word “Fucking” in the subject line, I felt like I had to file it immediately instead of leaving it up on the screen. And we don’t need Dove’s stinkin’ patches.

Updated at the bottom

We talk a lot around sex as we talk about infertility, but many people get pretty damn squeamish talking about sex.  But you’re going to have to talk about sex if you end up parenting because it’s part of the package: you need to prepare that kid for the world.

I’m coming at this topic as a former health teacher for middle schoolers who has had her share of jaw-dropping questions left in her classroom’s anonymous question box.  And while my average readership may not have a child yet or your child may be still in diapers, this is a topic that anyone who is planning to parent or is currently parenting can’t wait years to think about.  You have to have a strategy, and the best strategy begins at birth.  Well… okay… a little after birth.  But still.  It starts much earlier than you think.

Tomorrow is National Youth HIV and AIDS Awareness Day.  But Melissa, you say, kids don’t have to worry about HIV.  But did you know that “40 percent of new HIV infections are young people ages 13 to 29.”  If you don’t want your child to be part of that 40% statistic, you need to educate them, and you need to do so early.

According to the Kinsey Institute, the average kid loses his or her virginity before he or she graduates high school. For boys, it’s an average of 16.9 years, and girls lose their virginity on average at 17.4 years.  Some parents are worried that starting the sex conversation conveys a message that they condone their child’s sexual exploration.  But isn’t the opposite possibility ten times scarier than teaching your child how to put on a condom?  That they could be left without vital information that could protect their overall health?  In addition, some parents unrealistically believe that they know with certainty that their child is a virgin.  The reality is that statistics tell a very different story about the frequency of teenage sex.  The best approach is to believe only what you know to be fact and accept that your child may be part of that statistic above.  You’ll never know unless you catch them in the act… or ask.

There isn’t a magic age to start talking to your child about safe sex.  Like most charged topics, the conversation best unfolds in small steps over the course of many years.  Start soon after birth getting your child comfortable talking about his or her body as well as opening up the path of communication between yourself and your child.  While you may feel inclined to use a cute term when referring to your child’s genitalia, it’s actually more helpful to label their penis or vagina just as you would all their other body parts. (Yes, I’m aware that the visible genitalia on a girl is the vulva, but since no one calls it as such, we went with the more common vagina in order to minimize confusion.)  The point is to make them comfortable with every inch of their body.

In elementary school, the focus may be on HIV itself; not talking about how it is transmitted but more the concept that there are diseases that can be passed through contact with blood.  This is a good age to discuss HIV in terms of safety.

In middle school and high school, the conversation needs to include that the disease can be passed through sexual contact and how people can minimize their risk by utilizing condoms or asking sexual partners to get tested for the virus.

And as a former health teacher, I have a bit of advice on how to open up this conversation with your child, regardless of age:

• Choose a time when you’re both not distracted.  Put down the mobile phones, turn off the television, and look each other in the face.  A second choice would be to open the talk while you are driving and your child is in the car for a long drive.  This way, if you’re nervous, you can keep your eyes on the road.

• Take away sex’s power.  You may be coming into this conversation with baggage about sex.  You may have beliefs about sex or have had a negative experience with sex or feel empowered by sex.  And all of that is about you.  This conversation is about your child.  Do not make sex larger than it really is: don’t let it loom huge in your mind like a bogeyman who is going to turn your precious, innocent child into a crazy sex addict nor make it the end-all-and-be-all of the teenage years.  Your children are looking to you to figure out how they should feel about sex.  If you are too emotional, too anxious, or too dismissive about sex in this conversation, your child will pick up on that energy.  You simply want to present the facts and not inflate sex or give it more power than it should have.

• Find out how much your child already knows.  Most schools start education about sexually-transmitted diseases such as HIV even before they begin their lessons on sexual health.  In addition, your child will pick up information from other kids.  Gently correct any information your child misunderstood from class or the playground.  I’ve always told the twins that my job is to educate them, but their job is not to educate others.  They should allow other kids to have their parents educate them.

• Let the conversation be child-led.  Tell your child that you plan on presenting them with information in a moment, but you’d rather first hear what questions are rolling around in their mind.  The information may end up coming at them out of order, but allowing the conversation to unfold with the child in control of the flow of information is not only empowering to the child but it provides you with a fill-in-the-blank approach so you know what to say next if you start to get nervous.

• If you’re feeling nervous, use a book.  Think of it as your script, and you’re just an actor, presenting the story.  Peter Mayle has a great set of two books that have been used by parents for decades for younger children.  You may want to gift teenagers with a book such as Changing Bodies, Changing Lives, which is a book similar to Our Bodies, Ourselves but aimed at teens.

• Be frank.  Your job is not to scare them or coddle them.  It’s to present the information without telling your child how to think or feel about their sexuality or various sexual acts.  Information provided concisely and clearly, without emotion, leaves the power in your child’s hands to decide the path they wish to take.  Don’t leave them in a position where they feel they need to use sexuality as a place to rebel against you.

• Be honest.  If you don’t feel that your child is old enough to know certain information, the best thing you can do is explain that you will happily answer the question fully at a later date, but right now, you’re telling them what they need to know.  The worst thing you can do is lie or blow off your child’s question.  If their question makes you uncomfortable, explain that to your child.  But don’t shut down conversation by making them feel wrong for coming to you with a question.

• Don’t let your sole discussion of sexuality be doom and gloom.  Most parents keep their discussion of sexuality to topics such as HIV or teen pregnancy: not the cheeriest elements of sex.  If you’re opening up this conversation with HIV, make sure you counterbalance it with pointing out the good things about sex so that sex does not become something scary that must be avoided.

• Don’t be afraid to share your values.  Even though you don’t want to make decisions for them, it’s fine to let your child know your expectations and why.  It’s not enough to simply ask your kids to wait until adulthood to have sex in the same way that it wouldn’t deter you if someone simply pointed at a door and asked you not to open it.  On the other hand, if someone asked you not to open the door because there was something behind that door that could harm you and they were trying to protect you, there would be a much stronger impetus to follow their directions.

• You don’t have to share your personal sexual history.  Your child may ask out of curiosity or to gauge whether you’re having similar life experiences.  You can explain that you ask them about their sexual history in order to help them make good choices since you are there to guide them as their parent, but that in general, a person’s sexual history is something they should volunteer to discuss and not have questioned.  On the other hand, you may have regrets about when you lost your virginity, and it’s okay to use your personal story to explain why you’re asking something different from your child.

• Leave the door open.  Remind your child at the end of the conversation that while this particular talk may be over, that you know questions and new information pop up over time.  Make sure they know explicitly that you are a resource for information.

And that’s how you get through the dreaded sex talk and give your children the tools to protect themselves in the process. Don’t count on your child’s school to educate them about their bodies or sexuality. That conversation is best played in your court, providing a sound foundation for schools to build from.  And the talk begins much earlier than you probably think.

Update:

Please don’t wait to start having this talk with your child.  The LA Times reported this week that sex education in schools often comes too late to be helpful.  The article states: “Among teen girls who were sexually experienced, 83% told interviewers that they didn’t get formal sex education until after they’d lost their virginity.”  Don’t wait for schools to step in and educate your child on life.  Sex education has to begin at home.