Keira Knightley's High Vagina

My friend “Cassandra”was lying topless on a beach on one of those tropical, paradise kind of islands somewhere in the Caribbean.  Although Cassandra looks excellent topless, she was having horrible suicidal, I-hate-myself-and-want-to-die thoughts.  Million-dollar luxury sailing yachts were drifting past her.  On each yacht there was a 22-year-old topless woman whose boyfriend had bought her the yacht.  Each 22-year-old woman looked excellent topless.  They looked excellent, and they owned a yacht and they got to keep it.

Cassandra was thirty and she didn’t have a yacht that she got to keep.  She started to cry because she felt like a failure.   Big, sad, suicidal tears.

“I will never ever be a twenty-two year old with a yacht,” she wailed.  “Ever.”  It was true.  She was right.  It would never happen. There was nothing she could do.  

“I will never ever be a twenty-two year old with a yacht.”

At first glance, this seems like the sorriest excuse for a human tragedy in the whole world.  Probably it is, but I can relate.  I have been on that beach, topless and sad.  I have spent hours, if not days, staring at topless women on yachts.  I was staring at the women and the yachts last night at 11 P.M.

The Boatman and I had just finished watching a movie called “A Dangerous Method.”  It was about Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung in their early days.  One of Carl Jung’s first patients was a woman named Sabina, played by Keira Knightley.  Keira Knightley put on a brilliant performance.  When she had her shirt on, and when she didn’t. 

After the movie was finished the Boatman and I googled Kiera Knightley to see what other movies she had been in.  There were dozens.  Atonement, Pride and Prejudice, Bend it Like Beckham, Never Let Me Go.  All this was fine with me until I saw Kiera Knightley’s birthdate:  March 26, 1985.  1985.  Same year I was born.  Kiera Knightley was 27 years old and already she had been in more movies than I will ever be in in my whole life.  What a useful thing to think about. Then I did something even more useful.  I looked up Kiera Knightley’s height and weight.  Kiera Knightley is 5 foot 7 and 100-110 pounds.  I am five foot eight and I haven’t been 100 or 110 pounds since I was in grade five.

Alas. 

No being a movie star for me.

No 100 or 110 pounds for me. 

Plus Kiera Knightley does charity work and I do not.

Keira Knightley. So thin and so talented and so charitable.

I grumpily went on Facebook where I saw I’d received a message from a lovely friend of mine who I hadn’t heard from in a long time.  Like me and Keira Knightley, she was born in 1985.  At just 26 years old, my friend has a great job in an awesome city and she just bought a new condo by herself, and she’s practicing part of the third series of Ashtanga Yoga.  I looked up her last posture.  Urdhva Kukkutasana C.  It’s like the 11^th posture of third series. 
 

Urdhva Kukkutasana C, the 11th posture of Ashtanga Yoga's third impossible series. The Yoga Sutras recommend that we cultivate friendliness towards this man's success. This man's and my friend's and all the Third Series People's.

I have never been able to do more than four postures of third series for much more than four weeks.  After four weeks, my pelvis starts to disjoint and complain.  But my friend could do it.  She could rock it.  And her pelvis never complained.  I was jealous of her pelvis.  I am still jealous. My friend has had to deal with anorexia for over a decade, and still, I am jealous of her and her job and her pelvis and her yoga postures.

Last night with tears in my eyes, I announced to the Boatman that I felt upset and unworthy because Kiera Knightley had been in way more movies than me, and my anorexic friend had a better pelvis.

He turned off the television  for two seconds.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.  Then he turned the television back on.

I think that he felt about the same way Cassandra’s husband felt while she was mourning her twenty-two year old yachtless topless self.  Moderately to severely disgusted. 

Yoga Sutra 1.33 recommends that we cultivate friendliness towards success.  This is wonderful advice, but last night I was pouty and miserable instead.  I made the Boatman turn the TV off again.  I waited for him to feel sorry for me.   He didn’t. 

I sat on the couch and I pressed the flesh around my navel together.  The space between the flesh made a crease and the crease looked like a High Vagina.  Although I am not one of those gluten free people, and sometimes I even eat corn chips, I do not have a Big Fat Wheat Belly.  There is hardly any flesh around my navel. 

And yet, I am capable of making a High Vagina. 

As I stared at my High Vagina, I realized that my goals were strange and perverse and dumb.  Wanting to be Keira Knightley or my anorexic friend with the awesome pelvis or a topless twenty-two year old on a yacht was dumb.  As dumb as aspiring to eradicate your High Vagina.

The whole world has a High Vagina.  Even the gluten-free people.  Even Kiera Knightley.

Keira Knightley has a High Vagina, and it is almost as ugly as mine.

The End.
 

My High Vagina. Thanks to the Boatman for the photo.

The Keira Knightley Charitable Foundation encourages you to please cultivate Friendliness towards:
 

My High Vagina (see above), 

My Very first Self-help e-book, I Let Go,

My Twitter Account:  @mypelvicfloor.

And my Facebook Fan Page:  Ecstatic Adventures

Forever on the Lips

Peanut Butter, Pubic Hair

Not That Kind of Girl 

Cameroned

Pulling a Quickie here.  Here I go.

Pulling a Quickie is the opposite of Cameroning.

Pulling a Quickie can also be a crucial step in Cameroning.

Paradoxical isn't it?

The infinitive of Cameroning is "to Cameron."

Cameroning has probably been taking place for centuries, but no one is quite as good at it as R.B. Cameron, the Boatman's Dad. R.B. is so good at it that Luke Freeman, the Boatman's brother-in-law invented the verb "to Cameron" in his honour.  Thank you Mr. Freeman.

The Boatman is also very excellent at Cameroning.

Typically, the act of Cameroning begins with the Cameroner making you a very excellent proposition.  This proposition may involve eating something that is very high in gluten and very delicious.  Or maybe the Cameroner would like to take you to a beach, or on a boat ride, or on a ferris wheel.

Whatever it is, it is good enough for you to drop everything you're doing and say, Why Yes.  That would be wonderful.

 

So you get in the car and off you go for your gluten-rich snack, or your boat ride.  Today, let's pretend it's a boat ride.  You're very excited.  Then the Cameroner looks out the window and sees that there is Canadian Tire.  And doesn't he need clothespins?  Why yes he does.

And so the Cameroner and everyone on the way to the boat ride get out of the car.

And the Cameroner buys clothespins.  While he's at, it he remembers he also needs a strange appliance that will keep the cauliflower from clogging the kitchen sink, and a multi-directional miter saw, and adjustable shelving units.  The shelving units are mesmerizing and so are the barbecues. Barbecues, lawnmowers, storage solutions.  The Cameroner might need to pull a quickie in the fishing gear aisle while he's trying to decide.  Deciding takes a very long time, but finally the Cameroner walks out of the store with the cauliflower appliance, the saw, the shelving units and a rainbow fishing lure.

The Boatride is just around the corner. Except so is the office.  Actually, it's not.  The office is all the way across a bridge.   But the Cameroner looks out the window and remembers.  He has to scan his passport for some form he forgot to fill out last Wednesday.  Scan it and print it.  It is all of utmost importance, so you cross the long, long bridge to the office.  Like Canadian Tire, the office is a sensuous and captivating place.  There are filing cabinets, fax machines and a wide-screen monitor.  It's wonderful to see what the company website looks like on the wide screen.  The Cameroner shows you, and you get to see.  Lucky you.

Your luck continues after you leave the office, and the Cameroner stops under the bridge to show you the wall of concrete panels that the company made last July.

And if you're very lucky, you might also get to go to the Art Supply Store.

Or to the the Drugstore, where the Cameroner can buy brand-name q-tips, renew his prescription against Oyster-shaped cold sores, and you can take your blood pressure.

All this is called Being Cameroned.

Incidentally, I just Cameroned you, since I promised you a quickie, but instead went on and on.

I hope you don't feel too violated.

While I'm at it, here's a clip from Cheers, featuring Tim Miller performing Titthibhasana at the end.

How did Tim Miller end up on Cheers?

Here's the whole story at The Confluence Countdown.

While I'm still at it, here I am in Titibhasana A.

I will omit self-scrutiny from the Cameroning process.  But I will say that once I wrote a post called This is my snatch, and Titibhasana.  Somehow this became one of my most popular posts of all time.  My father thought this would be terrible for my reputation and employability.

He was right:  my reputation and employment level are both terrible.

But in better news, my groundbreaking post on Ashtanga Yoga and Oral Sex has 169 views.  Why not ruin the fun and make yourself the 170th? I ruined all the fun in 2016 when I reverted This is my snatch et. al. and Ashtanga Yoga and Oral Sex to draft. It is 2016 now.

See you on Twitter @mypelvicfloor

Or find ecstasy on facebook.

And that's it.  I Let Go.  The Cameroning is Finished.

The End. 

Me and the Boatman on a Boatride. Post-Cameroning. 

 

Forever on the Lips

"Why do I always get the runs when I'm on the rag?"

 

We all have similarly compelling sentences and phrases that we hear or read once and that, like goodness and mercy, end up following us all the days of our lives.  I was eleven years old when I read the above sentence in the “ Ask Anything” column of Seventeen magazine.  At the time, I had never been on the rag.  But I had gotten the runs.  It was just a matter of time before I would get both at the same time.  Peanut Butter and Jam, my friend Fern calls this.  Every month, when the Peanut Butter and Jam comes, I ask, “Why do I always get the runs when I’m on the rag?”  I can’t remember the answer.  Only the question.

Another soul-permeating phrase of mine is, “A moment on the lips, forever on the hips.”  The first time I encountered this one was in Marya Hornbacher’s anorexia and bulimia memoir Wasted.  I read this just as I was beginning my anorexia and bulimia career and the pages, though excellently written served more as a how-to manual than offer any hope for healing or recovery.  And to this day, that lovely sentence about lips and hips remains with me.  It came from the lips of Marya Hornbacher’s teacher.  Marya had been kept after school for some reason.  Alone in the classroom, Marya ate a bag of Doritos, the only thing she had eaten for some time. 

That’s when her teacher uttered her magic hips and lips phrase.  So Marya went to the bathroom and puked up the Doritos. 

 


Wasted, by Marya Hornbacher I do believe that Marya Hornbacher had done very well in throwing her eating disorder away.  She is also a very talented writer, and in the many years since Wasted was published, she has written a number of riveting and Doritos-free books.   



I was never a big chips person.  Since meeting the Boatman, however, I’ve taken up corn chips.  And pita chips.  I prefer the broken ones at the bottom of the bag because then I don’t pay attention to how many I am eating.  That said, I’m allowed to eat as many as I want.  Sometimes there are chips are on my lips for very many moments.  I never ever throw them up and so far my hips have stayed exactly same size.  There is no Big-Fat-Chip-Belly either. But sometimes my hips complain of seething pain.  I do not think it is from the chips.  It has something to do with my pelvis, which everyone is tired of hearing about.  Still, when my hips hurt, I never stop talking about it.  Now we have a new catch-phrase:

“A moment on the hips, forever on the lips.”

And once my lips take hold of something, they shelter it for a long, long time.  Another phrase:

 “A moment on the lips, forever on the lips.” 

I’m sure you’ll get the idea and derive thousands of your own happy catch-phrases that you’ll be able to luxuriate in at any given moment.  I would love to hear what your lips come up with.  

The Day that Dr. Seuss died seems like only yesterday.

Hips, Lips, Chips.

Kino has Very Open Hips:

This Panda Bear is made out of Lips:

And the Boatman drew a Chip with Ruffles.



"Very Refreshing"  featuring Chip with Ruffles.  More Drawings by the Boatman at verysatisfied.com

"Very Refreshing"  featuring Chip with Ruffles.  More Drawings by the Boatman at verysatisfied.com

He's Refreshing.  He's on Vacation.  And he never gets the runs when he's on the rag.
The Chip doesn't and neither does the Boatman.
I was going to go on a contractions diet, but then I decided I wouldn't
I wouldn't and I couldn't
I won't.

The End.

The High Vagina, Coming Soon

Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go, by Erica J. Schmidt

Exalted
The O's in the Totos have Hats
My name is Erica, I love coffee
 

 

The Boatman Transforms Himself into a Marvellous Paradox

Section WWW of my famous and life-changing self-help book contains some life-changing advice.

Here it is:

Section WWW:  Transform yourself into a marvelous paradox. 

“How?”  you are asking.

Folks, this is how you do it:

Step 1:   Designate an inanimate object to represent you and refer to yourself as this inanimate object as often as possible.

For instance, while I was writing “I Let Go,” the Boatman and I  designated me as “the clock.”  Because I am impeccable at telling time. 

Me, the Clock.

Here is the Boatman:  



In this photo, he has an oyster-shaped coldsore and he has the dream that he and his coldsore will go viral thanks to his pretty face and his coldsore`s unique shape and intricate design.

Recently, the Boatman had another dream.  He dreamt that he too wanted to become a marvelous paradox. And so we picked an object for him.  The Boatman’s inanimate object is:

The Android Phone.



The Boatman, the Android Phone.

 The Android Phone is known for competently accomplishing multiple tasks without becoming overwrought and overcome with angst and emotion. 

 

Thus, these are our inanimate objects.  I , the clock, and the Boatman, the Android,  We are ready for Step 2.

Step 2:  Add human characteristics to your inanimate object.  For optimal catchiness, I would choose three.  As a clock, my human characteristics are: Emotional, Judgmental, and Fuckable.  Almost all humans can choose fuckable as one of their characteristics.  Being Fuckable is almost universal.  Since I thought of that for you, you really only need to choose two human characteristics to go along with your inanimate object. Such is the case for the Boatman, the Android.  Besides Fuckable, his human android characteristics are: Nonchalant and Artistic.

In conclusion, the Boatman is a Nonchalant, Artistic, Fuckable Android Phone.

Check out the Boatman`s Very Artistic Drawings at Verysatisfied.com.

Here is one of the Boatman`s Artistic Drawings about Salmon Pants:


Salmon Pants

When I was in art school I knew this guy named Radislov. He was from

Eastern Europe and would often would wear a pair of salmon coloured pants. Once my friend Felice painted the walls of an art gallery pink for a show. When Radislov came to the show his legs disappeared.

I am very satisfied with all of the Boatman`s drawings.  And I am very satisfied by the marvelous paradoxical transformation that has just taken place.

The Boatman is now a Nonchalant, Artistic, Fuckable Android while I remain an Emotional Judgmental, Fuckable clock.  We are marvellous paradoxes.  I am a marvelous, timetelling paradox.  And he is a marvelous, multi-functional paradox. What a satisfying Saturday. I wish you a similarly satisfying Saturday, filled with marvellous and satisfying  paradoxical transformations.

The End.

Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go, self-help book by Erica J. Schmidt

The Big Black Dog Followed Suit and Transformed Himself into a Marvellous Paradox, but I reverted the post to draft.

Performative Grilled Cheese
Jujubes
Performative Text Messages