So, I’m new to this bloggin stuff, right? Misty is my mentor, God Bless her patient, spell-checkin’-techno-geek heart. I should be sitting here, getting right to the point and wowing you with my intellectual prowess, correct?
Well, I can’t right now. Because I just finished off half…yes HALF…of a 8″ chocolate cake that sinisterly seduced me while I sat here and stared pathetically at the UPS package that is taunting me because it holds the bathing suit (size L.A.R.G.E.) I ordered for our Disney Trip next week. WTF??
Okay, just thought I’d share my agony. Coping Mechanism #1: Binge Eating…My mommom (that’s grandmother to you) taught me that food fixes EVERYTHING! Lots of it, and I believe every word she said!
Now onto my words for the week.
I’m sure you’ve all heard the hub-bub over the new trilogy by EL James, Fifty Shades of Grey, Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Free. This trilogy has been touted as the latest and greatest in “Mommy Porn,” a dark and forbidden look at BDSM.
In my opinion, it is a thought-provoking look at the human mind.
The star of the phenomenon is one, Christian Grey. He is every woman’s dream: drop-dead gorgeous, sexy, rich, sexy, good at everything, sexy, a phenomenal lover, sexy…Did I say sexy? This is what draws women to reading this newly acclaimed series. Oh, and the pushing-all-the-naughty-boundaries sex. But as his beloved heroine explains, he is also fifty shades of fucked-up because of a terrible childhood.
Christian’s coping mechanisms for his fifty shades? Lots of rough sex, BDSM. Most of the BDSM, he (and James) leaves in his backstory. What little freak he does let fly with the love of his life is edgy, sexy and all-out romantic. How many men do you know who would lay you out on a bench and make love to you to ‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face’ crooning on the surround sound…blindfolded? I get tingles just thinking about it. Hold on…I’ll be right back……
Ah. That’s better, sorry. (a little mommy-porn humor)
In my own humble opinion, it’s the naughty, adult version of Twilight. Shy, awkward heroine saving the forbidden, hotter-than-hell superhero from the darkness.
But this post is not about the book…it’s about forever pondering the psycho-analyst-wanna-be in all of us. I loved Fifty Shades for the simple questions:
How fucked up does our childhood really make us?
Is it Nature or Nurture?
I once worked with a woman. I often passed her in the halls, in the restroom and at the cafeteria. She was about 60, with long straight hair to her waist and thick coke-bottle glasses that rested on her plain features. She dressed impeccably in suits and high heels. The paper towels she wore taped to her hands to ward off germs from the surfaces she touched, might have been a bit of a fashion faux-pas, but the wet puddles she left behind each time she left the restroom after she washed her shoes and the ends of her hair in the sink to avoid germs was completely understandable. Hey, restrooms can be yucky.
WTF? What made this poor woman like this? Was it an inherent biological OCD gene? (Nature) Or did her mother beat the shit out of her everytime she got dirty so that’s how she copes? Or maybe her brother died a horrible death from infection. (Nurture)
The human psyche is absolutely amazing. I believe, it can either work with us…or work against us.
I myself should be about 100 shades of fucked up if human experience (nurture) is to blame. In my childhood, I’ve out-maneuvered alcoholism, bigotry, mental illness, nervous breakdowns, being deserted, “pull that finger,” the metal yard stick, “I’m so hungry I could eat the asshole out of a dead skunk.” ‘Daddy envy’ and molestation all before the age of 10. During my teens and later, I upped the ‘nuture’ challenge with drinking, drugs, physical abuse in my early twenties, a rape in my mid twenties, and my own personal battle with bipolar disorder and the assundry of medications associated.
Since then I’ve attained two, 4.0 college degrees, a wonderful husband, 2 awesome functioning kids and my parents and sibs are my best friends – go figure! Personally, I think I’m perfect just the way I am. I’m who I was meant to be.
My coping mechanisms? An obsession with counting my steps when I walk, rocking back and forth when I read, eating my stress away (sometimes when nobody is watching! SHHHH!), flicking my hair in my ear (don’t ask…), cerebral OCD (yes…that was a professional diagnosis I recieved!) and having vivid dreams of different eras in time as if I really lived then. Not too shabby, I’m thinking. I’ll let you know if I cross to the dark side and start wearing men’s clothing and call myself Joseph on Mondays and Fridays.
My Nurture – the experiences I had to endure, much like Christian Grey’s – pretty sucky.
My Nature – one strong-ass will and a determined personality to get it right, and lots of hard work and understanding into what makes me tick …. PRICELESS.
So, who are you? A slave to your Nurture? Or submissive to your Nature? What great quirks have you developed over the years as coping mechanisms? Time for some bonding gang!
No matter who you are and how the hell you got there…you’re perfect, just the way you are!
PS. Just to let you know…that bathing suit I ordered? Top too big…bottoms too small…Figures. Might as well go finish the cake and try again tomorrow.