The truth is in the frosting

She’s a little piece of cake
And her hopes will rise like dough
But in light of a recent quake
Thoughts float like powder snow

Her dainty toes leave prints
Both flimsy and abstract
Though rising dreams grow firm
Not daring to look back

Conversing with the earth
The pastry listens low
Her heart quivers in time
With raindrops trickling slow

The breeze floats back a whiff
Of joys baked deep and deep
She seeks the sugary high
Of which the wise ones speak

Inside her, warm and sweet
Sits cooling on the sill
In time the baker learns
She’ll always have her fill

Mirror, Mirror

When the mirror talks back to her with disappointed comments then it’s a bad day. Likewise, when the comments are uplifting and praiseworthy it’s a good day. But it all depends on what she wants the mirror to say. The truth can become very convoluted. Like the witch from Snow White. She wants the answers, but she only sees what she wants to see. Her thinking is distorted. When things don’t go her way she turns to new drugs, like the poisoned apple. It makes her numb for a spell. But the truth returns, just as vital. As unavoidable as it was when it was last seen in the looking glass.

She can do whatever she chooses in her witch shoes, but at the end of the day she is always right back where she started. Standing before her own reflection. Asking, was today good or bad? And then the she-witch will do what she does everyday. She will scrutinize herself, her waist, her complexion, her hair, and hope the mirror comes to some sort of conclusion.

But in the end she knows that the mirror never tells her. She does.

Oh So Cosmo is Oh So Revolting

There’s a new station on television, and when you see the profusion of pink you’ll likely recognize it. Its Cosmopolitan TV. Yes, the magazine that has filled young women’s heads with vital information such as so called sex, fashion, beauty, and health tips is now available 24 hours at the flick of a button. I admit that I have watched the channel on occasion (out of devotion to one show), but I personally think that this is a large step backwards for women’s self esteem and independence.

For example, I sat down one afternoon to witness a Sex and the City marathon, free of long commercials and uncensored content (a blessing that should not be underestimated for any avid fans of the show) and during program breaks all I see is images of the stereotypically perfect woman. She is always thin and Caucasian, with flawless cosmetics, hair and shoes, and she is being kissed by the example of the ideal, muscular, stylish man. The images of men are also strikingly similar to advertisements one would see promoting commodities. They seem showcased as fetish objects in fast, glossy images to be sought after. Is this a beneficial image to repeatedly thrust at young women? Either be the unattainably perfect woman, or lust after the male equivalent.

I have also witnessed wonderfully helpful tips that make me question the reality of what I am seeing. Fun facts like “Men who attend college are 70% less likely to have commitment issues later on in life.” My reaction is either to stare in blank disbelief, or wonder aloud to the heavens, “Who the hell comes up with these unbelievable facts and figures?” Information that is, without a doubt, indispensable to women when selecting a future mate. There are also polls. Oh, and believe me, these do not fail to disappoint in the nausea department either. For example: Bikini Bottoms that show a little cheek are, A) Cheeky or B) Skanky. How original. This is indeed a topic that will stimulate intelligent discussion and debate at slumber parties across the globe.

Although lovers of the magazine may be overjoyed that Canada introduced CosmoTV to our airwaves in early 2008, the pink programming seems fluffy and seems to lack significant content. CosmoTV has achieved televising an endless stream of girlish gossip that festers in the pages of their magazine and somehow seems far more disturbing when communicated through the mouths of vapid television hosts. The scary part is that Cosmo’s message now reaches a much larger audience of girls that may never know any better.

An example of this is the cherry on the cake, the program, Oh So Cosmo. It’s hosted by Josie Dye, who gives me violent urges whenever I’ve suffered the unfortunate experience of forgetting to change the channel after my previous show has ended. Here’s an excerpt from Cosmo’s website, which explains what the show offers to women:

“Oh So Cosmo stands apart from 'other' girl-centric reality magazine shows by providing hip, urban women with fun, useful information on sex and relationships plus news on what’s hot in pop culture and entertainment...just what fun, fearless females need to know.”

Yes, and what women really need to know is whether “he’s really that into me”, or should I get into a relationship at work” or the all important, “do these shoes match this outfit?!” Wow, watching these mind-sucking programs really shows how far some women have come in their quest to gain integrity and respect for their opinions. If girls grow up absorbing these magical tidbits of Cosmo-inspired life wisdom then I seriously fear for the future of young women’s piece of mind.

Here’s a synopsis for an episode that aired on June 26th:
Today on Oh So Cosmo...Want to pick up at the bar? Then who better to ask but that sexy bartender? Josie heads to her local watering hole to test the bartender’s theories. Then, Jacqui explores the dos and don’ts of long distance relationships and finally, grace periods - how long should you wait before that second date phone call?

The worrisome part is that women choose to accept these sacred rules. That we are by law, bound to wait precisely 3 days until a man calls back after a first date….or all long distance relationships are doomed to fail, or here are the top ten reasons to suspect your man is cheating on you. We’ve all grown up with these silly guidelines. The “secrets of femininity” that we are all supposed to follow to become successful women in our relationships. If young girls can only recognize that magazines like Cosmo and their demon-child, television offspring are the sources of how we judge ourselves as women then they can make the conscious choice to disregard their polluted messages.

Messages that tell girls how to be, how to think, and how to look to become accepted in society. These messages only create a separation between those who follow the rules and those who don’t. And those that don’t become “the others.” The girls who are featured on Style by Jury as hopeless cases of fashion crimes. Who deviate from the perfect body image. Cosmo makes it seem as though we need to “fix” these women…that they are uneducated savages that need a new and superior way of life thrust upon them. Only then can they be accepted. It’s funny how far some of us will go.

CosmoTV is reminiscent of a secret girls club that you need a special password to gain access to. Maybe in order to get through the pink doors guarded by muscular, waxed men with flawless hair and skin you have to eat, breathe and live Cosmo. Only then can you truly appreciate the channel’s limitless fountain of wisdom. Either way, Cosmo’s “backstage pass to men, sex & style”, is one that I’m happy I don’t possess.

Lullabies for little criminals

“I tried to pass myself off as an adult when I was a kid, and now, ironically, I am an adult who tried to write in the voice of a child,” writes Heather O’Neil, who regurgitates moments from her childhood in vivid passages as luminescent as poetry in her first novel, “Lullabies for little criminals.”

Baby is the character partially modeled after O’Neil’s own experiences growing up in Montreal, with a father addicted to heroin, and turning to drugs and prostitution at the age of 13. Despite the dark and twisted aspects of Baby’s life, moving from cheap apartments to juvenile institutions, back to dirtier apartments, her imagination and optimism is never extinguished. What is revealed deeply throughout the core of O’Neil’s character is the need to be loved. As relatable as breathing, Baby walks through life placing her trust in others, searching for someone to notice her, protect her and find the value that she hasn’t yet found inside herself. Shadow and light intermingles in this novel which depicts a girl’s life of poverty and her struggles to become accepted and hold on to her childhood and the sweetness and innocence it holds.

Baby eventually turns to drugs to escape her life where her father’s withdrawal makes her into the enemy and sex becomes a meaningless act that a pimp convinces her is an inevitable fate. She starts to believe that she isn’t worth anything better and that her joy is slowly being sucked out through straw. In one scene she shoots up heroin in a bathroom stall to satisfy her craving for momentary salvation. “This dope was different. I could hear the sound of my own heart beating. The woman in the picture began combing her hair. I whispered the word “Shit” and it came out of my mouth in calligraphic letters, like in a cartoon…. I decided I’d better keep my mouth shut. I was way too stoned.”

Every experience in Baby’s life is written like poetry, or song lyrics too honest to be uttered aloud. O’Neil’s words punctuate every passage with shameless ease that flow and draw you avidly into her observations. Her story is described simply and what you’re left with is a brightly painted picture that hangs in your mind long after you’ve read it.

Every comparison is so blunt and unique, like, “the night was like a typewriter that got stuck”, or “I’d turned to a guy sitting next to me and said, ‘Somewhere there is a sparrow singing in B minor.’ I swear to God, pot made me a genius.”

Such simple things are made beautiful, and even when horrible events are taking place in the turmoil that whirls around her Baby gives everyday images a fresh meaning, like, “In the window, the moon had made itself so tiny it was just a hole in the elbow of a sweater.”

As O’Neil’s first published work, which won CBC's, Canada Reads award in 2007, this is a remarkable novel, poignantly told without reserve or fear. The part of us that wants to be loved and accepted is exposed in a raw, startling way. A meaningful message is summed up when Baby says, “I was just going to have to start being my own person.” Ultimately we can all be little criminals, but the choice is ours.

Beautiful, Miss Cho, Beautiful

When she started talking about the dirty penis's she has seen in her undoubtedly raunchy lifetime, I cracked up.

When she exclaimed that men need to wash those appendages between their legs, not just “WIPE THEM ON THE DRAPES!” I lost it.
That’s the kind of humor I love, and that’s what Miss Margaret Cho delivers every time. A masterpiece of sexual comedy that breaks all boundaries and double fists you into hysterics. I was privileged to witness her new tour, Beautiful, at Massey Hall in Toronto on April 4th, in a literal sea of uber-enthusiastic gay men and fag hags. It was the best crowd I’ve ever been a part of.

Margaret spoke with shameless wit about the three-somes she has been in, and how there was always too much cock in the mix. Her facial expression clearly depicted how difficult it is to stuff a large quantity of dick in her mouth at once. Her face took on the expression of a shocked goldfish as she stretched her mouth wide and mimed nibbling around a giant cock like a cob of corn. The crowd went wild.

She talked with great admiration of her close relationship with the gay community, especially the bear subculture. As a renowned fag hag Miss Cho is undoubtedly an unquestionable confidante when it comes to gay men, and the men in the crowd seemed to agree with adoring shouts and laughs. She announced that bears get the most cock. They swipe at it easily, like trout in a frosty stream.

Describing her vagina as a conch shell that she had to bend her ear to listen to, was a moment that I personally loved. She admitted that there are still sexual experiences that she is open to trying, and spoke about sex as if it’s the pleasure mission on her never ending to-do list. Her own, hysterical personal experiences always inevitably find their way into her shows, and this was no exception. She spoke about the intimate doctor appointment that she recently underwent where her G-spot was injected with a chemical that made it swell, so it would be easier to find. It was refreshing to hear her talk about the sexual insecurities that we all have with our bodies, and that for her, the G-spot was an X on the map that she was determined to find, no matter what it took. It went from strange and comical to side-splittingly hilarious when she said that it felt like she had a jock strap on inside her. Just more cushion for the pushing, as she mimicked a fist slamming into her self repeatedly.

When she got onto the topic of anal sex, it became clear that it was one more goal she was going to conquer. She explained that for her, anal sex is like a dentist appointment. She knows that she’ll have to undergo the experience once a year, but it will be painful, as she screwed her extremely animated face into a grimace of epic proportions. She went on to say that she would have to practice some positive association with anal. For instance, whenever something good happens to her, she’ll have to insert something up there. Well that’s one way to do it.

She ended the show appropriately, with a love song to her vagina. She happily announced that it would be a tune you will be forced to sing at work the next morning. Everyone eagerly sang along as the perfect evening drew to a close.

Beautiful was an appropriate name for her tour, because Margaret seems more comfortable in her skin than ever before. Her jokes reflected where she is at in her life, completely fearless, confident, and firmly aware of her own strength and beauty. She has used humor in a positive, empowering way, to call attention to the fact that no one needs to be ostracized for being who they are. Be it straight, gay, or just slutty, as she once said about herself (“Where’s my parade?”) Margaret is teaching audiences about how acceptance is a powerful thing and that sexuality and humor connect us all.

This woman speaks the truth. So listen up, and learn to love yourself. While you’re at it, explore your vagina and tell the men you know to wash their penis.