Monday, January 18, 2010

promote lesbianism

I was reading Attack of the Redneck Mommy the other day when Tanis blogged about her daughter going to first base (read her, she's funny and great and everything in between). Given the topic, I know what she was going through emotionally and mentally, so I'll let her slide on the short blog. I read all the comments from her readers too, which then made me think of all of my friends and the hours and hours and hours of conversations we've had about our daughters. Most of the women that I've talked to or have read that have daughters also have husbands. Some of these husbands also have guns. I have neither. So what line of defense do I have? I used to discourage bathing, acne control, shaving, brushing of the teeth and hair, and would wait until Australias clothes were really worn out before I'd replace them.  But, as Australia grew up, that strategy backfired for obvious reasons and I was on the hunt again for a new line of defense. When I first learnt that Australia had kissed a boy (and liked it), I couldn't react. I was frozen. Like a deer caught in headlights. I remained calm, kept my composure, stayed sober, didn't go out and buy a gun. What was on my mind at that instant wasn't that she had just kissed her first real boyfriend - and I say real because he wasn't a fictional boy made-up on windows messenger by a group of 11 year old little bitches that I gave Australia full permission to smack the fuck out of if she felt like it and I also say real because I saw them with my very own eyes holding hands in the back yard with all their friends - what was on my mind when I heard the news was how often they would play tonsil hockey in the future and how long it would be until they went to second base. I don't know what second base is anyway but I'm fairly certain I didn't want Australia going there anytime soon. The thought was terrifying and I can safely assume that what appeared to be remaining calm when Silly Sally told me that Australia has been to first base was actually fear so great that I gave myself a mini-stroke and was unable to react. Fortunately for me, Australia's cute and polite little boyfriend lied to her and she kicked him to the curb before their second rendezvous. Sswweeeeet! I mean ... how heartbreaking.  Immediate crisis was averted without the use of weapons or heavy drinking. Averted because Australia has strength and confidence. Something I was lacking as I grew up (obviously, I did get knocked up in high school remember ...). I was one proud mamma the day she kicked that boy to the curb, and without so much as a tear. As a matter of fact, the way she dumped him was down-right cold hearted. Again ... sswweeeeet. Just what I prayed for since the day I felt that the bun growing in my oven was a girl-baby ... that my girl-baby would be strong, confident, and wouldn't take shit from anyone (except me of course ...). And if she falls off track and I feel like I need to call in some troops for back up, my next attack with be Operation Lesbian. Something I think has been far overlooked up to this point. 1st, 2nd, or 3rd base .. who cares. Babies don't come from 2 girls kissing. As much as it's going to kill me to admit this (because I like this song about as much as I like getting pap-smears) but Maybe Katy Perry was on to something ....

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