I don't find Sigourney Weaver attractive. There's nothing specifically wrong, but lots of little things that add up to her really not being my type.
Ellen Ripley on the other hand, TOTALLY KICKS ASS! Her I'd ask out. Being some what of a dumbass, I only hope it wouldn't be that totally inappropriate come on, which would be followed up with some alien suddenly popping up and eating my face off.
All I can say is that it makes sense to me. You know what it's like to have your body be the focus of doctors who are ignoring you. You know what it's like to to lose control, to have your body go through something drastic. A lot of women don't really. They have had their trials, sure, everyone has, but until you know what it is to be a specimen instead of a person, you aren't even aware that it's something to be afraid of. I know what it feels like to be a medical mystery. It's not exciting, it's not intriguing, and it doesn't make me feel special. It makes me feel like the platypus whose only fault was being discovered by a person that didn't think beyond the egotistical categorical biology human beings thought to impose upon the world. The platypus isn't out of line with biology, biology is out of line with the universe.
That's an awesome line about biology. And you're right, I have already had my body become a specimen. If I do ever get pregnant, I'll have to make damn sure that everyone knows what I want and don't want.
I'm not (that) scared of pregnancy (although how the fuck does one transfer at 7 months plus??), it's the little spawn that scares the living SHIT out of me.
I can barely manage my life (physically) as it is and I have a bloody house cleaner! I cannot, absolutely cannot fathom doing it without, like, a live in nanny.
I was in the school library about a year ago and I found this book that was written by a woman with paralysis. It was a book about how to raise children while having a disability such as hers. It was a really cute book, it looked like it was from the late seventies. The woman in the picture also looked like she was in her late seventies. It showed her in her wheelchair, with a young child, doing various things. I didn't read it thoroughly, but I could see that this woman had worked out not only things like "Don't let anyone tell you you can't do it!", but had also described ways to diaper you baby when only one of your hands works well, how to lift a child that is getting hard to balance, things like that
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I've always been pretty grateful to have landed on my side of the gender divide.
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Ellen Ripley on the other hand, TOTALLY KICKS ASS! Her I'd ask out. Being some what of a dumbass, I only hope it wouldn't be that totally inappropriate come on, which would be followed up with some alien suddenly popping up and eating my face off.
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A lot of women don't really. They have had their trials, sure, everyone has, but until you know what it is to be a specimen instead of a person, you aren't even aware that it's something to be afraid of.
I know what it feels like to be a medical mystery. It's not exciting, it's not intriguing, and it doesn't make me feel special. It makes me feel like the platypus whose only fault was being discovered by a person that didn't think beyond the egotistical categorical biology human beings thought to impose upon the world. The platypus isn't out of line with biology, biology is out of line with the universe.
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I can barely manage my life (physically) as it is and I have a bloody house cleaner! I cannot, absolutely cannot fathom doing it without, like, a live in nanny.
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