Lady Warriors

I’m going through my shelves and closets, getting ready to re-home what I don’t wear anymore. Well, I’m getting ready to re-home most of the clothes I don’t wear anymore. Some pieces I’m keeping for sentimental reasons.

Like a girls’ soccer T-shirt from a school where I used to teach. I’m keeping it to remember that school and that time in my life, not because I expect to wear it out and about now — especially not when I currently teach at one of their rival schools!

But I came across it. I looked at it. And I noticed something I’d noticed dozens of times before, something that had always needled me — something for which this recent post by Tracy at Fit, Feminist, and (almost) Fifty had started to give me words.

This school’s mascot was the Warriors, so the girls’ soccer shirt proclaimed the team the Lady Warriors. This has been the common theme throughout my school experiences: Lady Mustangs, Lady Lakers, Lady Reds, Lady Broncos, Lady Raiders, Lady Warriors, Lady Jaguars. Always the girls’ and women’s teams have used the “lady” signifier.

And always the unmodified mascot has been ascribed to the men’s and boys’ teams by default: Mustangs, Warriors, Jaguars. It’s never Gentlemen Lakers or Dude Broncos. Rather, when someone at school says “Raiders” without further specifying, the assumption is always, always, always that they’re talking about the boys.

I understand that the conscious intent is probably no more than to distinguish which team they’re talking about. But this way of going about it is problematic because it’s inequitable. It’s placing the boys’ and men’s teams as the default teams, default athletes, default students. In doing so, it relegates the girls’ and women’s sports to being “other,” extra, an afterthought.

But in a world where budget cuts are a constant threat and a usual reality, I can’t deny that a program’s quality and security both depend on its funding. Or that said funding — or the real-world purchasing power thereof — depend in no small part on the program’s reputation and prestige. Categorizing girls’ teams, even unintentionally, as different, less than — it hurts.

I want better for my kids — for the boys, the girls, the students who do not predominantly identify with either of those genders. Athletics programs shouldn’t privilege some teams and players over others, and schools should actively work toward creating climates where all students feel equally respected and included.

Flying with Chronic Pain: Self-Care at Flight Time

You can find the previous installments of this series here and here.

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Don’t get me wrong: I think booking flights and packing bags with pain needs in mind is a form of self-care. However, they’re forms of self-care where the focus is on things rather than on me. And sometimes the focus does need to be on me.

And it’s important to remember that in between all the packing and running around and double checking and goodbyes and everything.

[By Politikaner (Self-photographed) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons]

Allow plenty of time to pack. — Normally, my stuff is spread out all over my house (and car), which is not a problem until such a time as I’m trying to corral it all into one bag. Sometimes the things I want are dirty and need to be washed, sometimes I can’t find the things, and sometimes it turns out I don’t even have the things anymore. (Toothbrush holders, I am looking at you… or I would be if I could find where y’all went.) Feeling like I have to get everything together right now — which, if I wait until the last minute to pack, I do — means I’m rushing. When I rush, I stress. When I stress, I hold tension in my body. Where there is physical tension, there is also pain. Giving myself the extra time — bits and pieces, spread out over the course of a few days — to acquire, organize, and pack can help reduce all the pain-making negatives.

Prep body for a bad pain day. — Even though I’m doing many things to limit the pain I’ll experience, I still expect to be in a significant amount of pain while traveling. (Because there is no way “airplane” = “fun happy times” for my hips.) For me, preparing for a bad pain day involves avoiding irritating foods and taking standard (i.e., over-the-counter strength) doses of my NSAIDs starting one to two full days before I’m actually traveling. If I can prevent pain from starting — or at least prevent the really bad pain from showing up — that’s easier and more effective than reducing the bad pain once it’s already there.

Get enough rest. — Ideally, this would be “get enough sleep” — and sleep is always the goal — but sometimes this isn’t strictly possible. Anxiety about the flying process. Excitement about the trip. Needing to wake at a time that totally fucks with my sleep patterns. All of the above. While actual sleep is sometimes beyond my control (at least without the help of pharmaceutical agents, which do not make for a restful sleep for me), I am in control of providing my body with sufficient hours of rest. If sleep doesn’t happen for all of them — e.g., when it’s too early or I’m too wired — I can at least give myself something relaxing to do. Book reading is high on my list. Also, there are worse things than yoga nidra.

Wear comfy clothes to the airport. — Yes, I am the person flying in yoga pants and no bra. No, I could not give any fewer fucks about it. Because my body is already going to be far too limited in movement for too much of the day. Today is one day where I just cannot deal with clothing that restricts my movement even further.

Allow for plenty of time at the airport. — Even as someone who likes running and who purposely packs a light carry on, I do not enjoy sprinting or even power walking to my gate because the line through security was longer than I’d anticipated. For me, forced, rushed movement is not the same as balanced, beneficial movement.

But do move. — Like I just said, forced, rushed movement is not the same as balanced, beneficial movement. So just as I’m likely to proceed toward my gate at a comfortable walking pace, I’m also likely to remain in some kind of motion for a lot of the time I’m at the gate. Gentle walks in the general vicinity, maybe up and down the corridor. And, yes, if the area isn’t very crowded, you might find me on the floor doing some seated side bends, twists, and hip openers.

And remember to eat — and drink! — One of my biggest flying fears is needing to go to the bathroom on the airplane. Not because I’m embarrassed by other people hearing me tinkle or shit, but because doing so will mean I need to move down the aisle of a crowded plane. Because of pain and nerve issues, I’m not stable walking on an unstable surface, such as a moving plane, even if that plane is experiencing zero turbulence. Unless I am actually in danger of urinating or defecating on the seat, I’ll hold it, thank you very much.

Often, this “I’ll hold it” mentality translates to me being reluctant to eat or drink anything from about an hour before I leave for the airport until I land. This is obviously not the most brilliant idea I’ve ever had. Hunger, thirst, fatigue, irritability, dehydration: None of these interact well with pain. Which is why I bring along munchie-type foods — making trail mix at home has literally made my flights so much better — and check in with myself occasionally to make sure I’m eating and drinking something.

Plan for the day after flying to be a crapshoot, too. — My mom likes to plan a massage for her first or second full day after flying anywhere. I generally do not have so much time or income at my disposal, but I do like to limit the strenuous stuff on that “recovery day” as much as I can. Otherwise, I find that a lot of the back and hip pain keeps hanging on.

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Other traveling with chronic pain tips?

Also, Links

Recent and not-so-recent.

Women Are Not Their Own Worst Beauty Critics by Imran Siddiquee at Miss Representation — “So to say women are their own “worst critics” when it comes to beauty puts the blame on women for a beauty-obsessed, body-shaming and misogynistic world created and maintained largely by dudes.” (Via Laura at Tutus and Tiny Hats.)

How I Learned to Love Exercise (Yes, Really!) by Virginia Sole-Smith at Elle — “And then one day, as I lazed on the couch while my husband trotted out the door, looking downright gleeful at the prospect of a good, sweaty run, I realized I didn’t just hate working out; I was also jealous of anybody who seemed to enjoy it, from my husband, a runner and rock-climbing junkie, to every personal trainer I’d ever hired, to every workout host whose DVD I’d turned off halfway through (that would be all of them) because I couldn’t take their chipper attitude any longer. I wanted to think of my workouts as fun—I just had no idea how to make that happen.”

On Writing with Grace by Maria Smilios at Kissing the Mad Hatter Goodbye — ” I give myself another hour, 60 more minutes, to create a cohesive narrative, to string the words together so they are not broken, so they move in harmony, but I am weary, drained, depleted from another day spent in a seemingly endless repetition of negatives, “No, do not put the Legos in the fish tank….no, do not scream…no, do not put playdough on the carpet,” that I’m now choking on the words.”

How Different Foot Strikes Affect Different Body Parts by Scott Douglas at Runner’s World — “One aspect of the barefoot/minimalism/form debate of the last few years that most experts agree is unfortunate is the notion that one type of foot strike is universally better. A new Finnish study provides the helpful reminder that different types of foot strikes result in different force loads on various body parts, and that which one is best for you might depend in part on your injury history.”

Fitness and Accessibility by Tracy at Fit, Feminist, and (almost) Fifty — “An environment that accommodates disability is designed to be enjoyed first and foremost by non-disabled people. If my fellow swimmer needed to call ahead and arrange the means to get safely into the pool every time she wanted to go swimming, that would be an accommodation. Instead, the lift is always there. The pool is accessible.”

What about you? Read anything interesting lately (or not so lately)?

Hi Dad

[Sesame Segment where Big Bird deals with Mr. Hooper's death.]

Hi Dad,

In case you didn’t know, you have been gone from us four years today.

I take care of the people who need taking care of, and they take care of me. We tell each other stories.

I still don’t know what it means that you’re never coming back.

“Just because” is not a good enough answer.

I don’t like it.

It still hurts.

Flying with Chronic Pain: Packing

Continued from here.

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As you’ve probably figured out, getting the most comfortable seat I can reasonably manage — or rather, the least uncomfortable seat I can reasonably manage — on an airplane is important to me. It’s five immobile hours of my life I’m never going to get back; plus it has the potential to significantly raise my pain levels for days afterward. But other things are important too — like physically negotiating the airport. With luggage.

This segment is meant to help with the luggage aspect, at least.

[By Jarcje (Own work) [Afbeelding 115 -- CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons]

Plan on checked luggage. — I still resent paying the checked baggage fee, all the more so because I can pack in such a way that all my necessary belongings fit into a bag that itself fits into the overhead bin. Unfortunately, it makes for a heavy, bulky bag and an awkward time trying to access items I need during my trip. I’ve found I’m much better off figuring the baggage fees into my travel costs and splitting up my luggage into 2 bags.

Luggage with Wheels — Like this or this. They’re pretty common now, to the extent that they’re available in thrift stores often and in discount stores (Ross, Marshall’s, etc.) more or less all the time. Yes, going along with the little wheeled suitcase means that I have to take tiny steps and watch for cracks in the sidewalk, but — as long as the handle is long enough (taller people especially, you will want to try this out before purchasing an item) — this is so much easier on my back than is carrying a heavier bag on a single side. To this end, if I can persuade someone (usually the person who drove me to the airport, most often my husband and my sister) to help me get that bag from the car to the luggage counter, that helps even more.

Pack a balanced bag. — Literally, packing heavy items — like my barn boots — toward the center of the bag, rather than at the right or left side, and nearer the bottom than the top. I realize this may sound like a nit-picky detail — and for some folks with pain, it may well be — but whether I am lifting or wheeling my luggage, a balanced bag makes a difference to me.

Lighten up the carry on. — Okay, partly this is because if I’m going to have to pay for my checked luggage, I’m going to make damn sure to get as close to the allowable weight limit as I possibly can. (I’m not exactly a heavy packer, so I never do come close.) But also, my carry on is the bag that I’m going to be walking around with all day: through check in and security and finding my gate and grabbing a cup of coffee and having a pee and checking my flight status and having one more pee before I board and on and off the plane and to the connecting flight and one more between planes pee and to baggage claim and for who knows how long while I’m waiting for my other bag to show up on the carousel. The lighter it is, the better off I am. Because of this, I reserve my carry on for items I’m likely to need en route or items that would be a major hassle to replace (if they could be replaced at all). My carry on for my current trip contains:

• Wallet (ID, cash, bank card, boarding passes)
• Keys (unless I end up leaving them in the care of someone at home)
• Medications — any prescriptions in their original containers, plus enough OTCs for travel
• Menstrual cup (seriously, I just do not go anywhere without one anymore)
• My Nook (previously, it would have been a single book that I’d just started — so I wouldn’t have to worry about running out of reading material)
• A Ziploc bag of trail mix or other high energy, safe food (my pain can be complicated by digestive issues and/or trigger foods)
• Room for overpriced water (since I’ll have to buy it past security)

Obviously, different folk will have different travel essentials. Some may include a neck pillow or those stick-on heating pads or mobility aids or whatever. But if asking the question, “Is this essential?” can lead to lighter loads and reduced pain during travel, then I am all for it.

One last item, as I alluded — Think about Food — Not every person is going to need food with every flying experience, nor is every person going to feel limited by airport food. But for me — if I’m not going to have reasonable access to appropriate food either before arriving at the first airport or after leaving the final one — it is a huge deal to be able to take some of my own. I’m a fan of self-made trail mix: something that has a good-for-me ratio of protein to fat to sugar to fiber. Because pain is less fun when it’s accompanied by hunger or fatigue — and because sometimes, certain medications (narcotics, I am looking at you!) need to be taken with food.

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Okay, I guess there’s one more installment happening: self-care during travel!

Getting Back Into It Practice

Ugh. I spent the last 3 weeks of school doing almost zero physical activity. Well, almost zero enjoyable physical activity. Among the more sedentary tasks of project writing (oh, rubrics, how I love you when it’s time to grade! but designing you on the front end kind of sucks sour monkey balls) and grading, I got to stay late wrangling students on… I’ve lost count of how many occasions. And pack up my classroom. And clean out my car — so that I could fit the items I was taking out of my classroom into it.

Which left me with very little time and energy for an asana practice — and when I did (only on the weekends), it was always a gentle, restorative, and/or yin sequence. Probably just what I needed at the time, but it does mean that my strength, stamina, and cardiovascular capacity have waned. I wanted to get those qualities back, at least to the point where I’d known them before, but I wanted to make sure I didn’t overdo it or hurt myself in the process.

So I thought about an asana sequence where it would be relatively easy to add on. This would let me start out with a Day 1 sequence that I knew I could safely manage — even if I was actually underestimating and underworking — and build up gradually from there. Thought I’d share here so people could use the sequence — or the idea of such a sequence, even if the particular poses I chose aren’t right for you — as they see fit.

[Surya Namaskar sculpture at IGIA T3 -- By Wiki-uk (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons.]

Disclaimer: This is coming from someone with a regular asana practice who took a 3 week hiatus due to being busy. If you’re new to yoga, if you took a substantially longer break, and/or if you were ill or injured during that time — it may be a good idea to treat those as complicating factors and to adjust accordingly.

Warm Up — If this section is the only one you can do, it’s still a great place to start. Build from there.

• Child’s pose, 3 breaths.
• Kneeling vinyasa (child’s pose –> kneeling plank –> lower down –> lift to cobra –> lower down –> all fours –> child’s pose), 3 repetitions, maybe more if 3 doesn’t do it for your spine.
• Twisted child’s pose — I like 3 breaths on each side but doing each side twice.
• Child’s pose for a breath or two.
• Down dog, 3 breaths.

“Stretchy” Sun Salutes — I include these this way because for me, they’re still primarily about bringing my body through its full range of motion rather than building up a whole lot of strength. But that’s going to be different for different people.

• Sun Salutation C, starting with 1 round, working up toward 3 rounds (where a “round” involves both sides).

“Strengthening” Sun Salutes — With whatever modifications work for you.

• Sun Salutation A, starting with 1 round, working up toward 5 rounds.
• Sun Salutation B, starting with 1 round, working up toward 5 rounds.

Core Work — Front and back.

• Forearm plank: 3 repetitions of 5 breaths each (or less if you want, but I knew I could comfortably manage this), building to 3 repetitions of 12 breaths each (a convenient marker for me because my 12 breaths is roughly equivalent to 1 minute). Rest in child’s pose between repetitions.
• Bridge and/or wheel and/or the backbend sequence of your choice: 3 repetitions of 5 breaths each (or less if you want), building to 3 repetitions of 12 breaths each. Rest in constructive rest between repetitions. (Also, just for clarity, my back will probably always want bridge pose on at least the first repetition. So 3 rounds of wheel is not something I’m working toward here.)

Floor Work — Given that I generally end the core sequence in constructive rest, I’m perfectly happy for my floor work to be all supine. This is the winding down part of the practice, not the strength- or stamina-building part.

• Legs up the wall — except I do mine with a block (okay, a book) in the middle of the room — held for about a minute, maybe more.
• Lying spinal twist, legs any style, for a minute or so on each side.
• Happy baby — though I am a fan of straightening my legs for at least part of the time — for one to two minutes.
• Savasana.

While I’ve been building on this sequence for most of the days I’ve been practicing recently, this hasn’t been the sum total of my practices. I’ve added gentle practices where my body has wanted them or where I’ve been pressed for yoga-convenient time. And I’ve gone to class when I wanted, just for the sake of variety.

Because yes, for the length of practice that it is, it’s rather a lot of repetitions of a few poses (or, in the case of sun salutations, sequences). Over the long run, I’d get pretty bored if this was all I did. But for right now, it’s a good tool to help remind me that strength doesn’t have to be all or nothing.

Flying with Chronic Pain: Booking Flights

So I’m flying this summer — I do more summers than not. And I hate it. It hurts. But it’s necessary to get where I want to go.

It hurts because airport — and airplane — seats are excruciating for this big girl with chronic hip and low back pain.

I have done a lot of things wrong, with flying, over the years. But I have learned from my mistakes and have come to do more and more things right — where “right” is the same as what minimizes my pain.

These won’t hold true for everyone, but I figured they might be worth sharing. They all hold true with the caveats if they help you and to the extent they are reasonable for you. Everybody’s needs and priorities are not the same as mine. That said, sometimes it can help to consider a point, even if it’s to decide something is different for you. Because then — at least you know.

Choosing Dates — Admittedly, this first one reflects my own privilege and luxury. Most of the time I fly, I am in vacation mode and so my dates are somewhat flexible. Because of that, I try to travel on days when I’m less likely to be in much pain — or at least to avoid the days when pain is likely to be worst. Even in cases of leisure travel, this does assume that one’s pain is moderately predictable — and even then, it can backfire — but it’s a nice place to start.

Choosing Times — I know some people have the most pain when they get up in the morning. My bigger issue is fatigue-related pain that sets in toward the evening. Because of this, I’m likely to select flights earlier in the day (thanks to everyone who’s driven me to the airport at 5:00am!) — where I’m less likely to encounter flight delays and where I’m likely to be done with airporting before I’m at my worst pain levels for the day. Again, not always possible due to individual pain issues and flight levels, but it can be beneficial to consider.

Choosing Flights — While this may not be as relevant for all flight lengths, I most commonly fly between Michigan and Arizona. Depending on the specific flights and directions, that’s usually between 4.5 and 5.5 hours in the air. Since extended sitting is excruciating for my back and hips, my flying experience is so much better if I can break up that air time into two flights of relatively equal lengths. (Dear Texas, for this reason, I will be forever grateful for your existence and geographical placement.) A comfortable layover time (about an hour) is my own personal jackpot, but I’d rather rush to make a connection or be stuck in the airport for an extra hour than to be stuck on a non-stop flight for that long.

Choosing Seats — Yes, in a perfect world, we’d all be able to upgrade to first class or at least spring for the “good” coach seats — you know, the non-middle seats in the aisles that purport to have extra leg room. And such seats would be available on every leg of every flight. As neither of these are options I can really count on (the one more than the other), my primary tactic here involves less money but more time.

Most airlines, save those that don’t have assigned seating, will allow passengers to select their seats before the entire transaction is complete. (That is, if something goes wrong, I can opt out before I’ve given them any of my financial information.) In that, I can also see the seat layout of each plane. A lot of coach sections have three-by-three seating — three seats, then an aisle, then three more seats. Some, however, have two-by-three seating — two seats, then an aisle, then three seats. While some of the two-seat rows come with an extra fee, it’s not usually any more than the corresponding three-seat rows (so, first several rows of the plane and emergency exit rows). This is a huge deal for me because it means I can avoid (in order of importance):

1. The dreaded middle seat. (Seriously. If those seats were people, I’d be wishing them runny poop and one-ply.)
2. Climbing out from the window seat of a three-seat row, especially while the plane is in motion. There are nerve damage issues to contend with; plus, the slant of the seats in front of me combined with the low-hanging overhead compartment make my torso scream.
3. Standing up in the aisle whenever any of the other two of my row-mates needs to get up. Certainly they get to move about the cabin as the captain and flight attendants see fit. But maintaining a stable standing body in a moving vehicle hurt.

A two-seat row eliminates my first (and biggest) problem and significantly reduces the other two. If I get to consider other factors as well — for example, in front of a bulkhead or in front of an emergency exit row, to reduce the chance that people will jostle my seat from behind — even better. Additionally — because I know it’s been a factor for me — it’s also sometimes possible to select a seat relatively close to the restrooms.

And of course, for folks needing assistance beyond this, most airlines have contact numbers available.

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Huh. I did not know I was about to become so prolific on flying and pain. I had meant this to be a single post — but I’m not even to packing, let alone to what I do at the airport. I guess there will be more coming up?

Dear Bra Fitters

If, at a specialty shop, you attempt to measure my underbust over my clothes, it will put me on instant alert. This is doubly true if, as was the case for me today, I am wearing multiple layers — and the top shirt has ruching.

If you measure too loosely still, my eyes will start to narrow in skepticism.

If you decline to take an overbust measurement but instead eyeball me and proclaim me a 40B, I will wonder whether I am in the right place.

Moreover, if I explain to you that the reason I’m here is because my 34Gs are painfully small in the cup (while acknowledging that I may need to go up a band size as well), and you still proclaim me a 40B — I will think you are flat-out bad at your job.

To explain: If a 34G is too small in the cup, this means that a 36FF, 38F, and 40DDD will also be too small in the cups. So even though cup size is dependent on band size, yes, it is utterly ridiculous to try to fit me into a cup volume that is already 4 sizes smaller than the cup volume that is already too fucking small.

As a point of comparison, if I went into my local shoe store explaining that my size 10 running shoes were too small (they’re not, but pretend), I would not expect them to try to fit me into a size 7 wide. If they did, I would be justified in responding, “The fuck are you trying to do?”

Instead, you announced that bra after bra “looked good,” until I pointed out where each one was poking, squeezing, or where I was spilling out.

You insisted on fitting me in bands that were too large.

News flash: The band is not simply decorative. In fact, it is doing most of the work of the whole, entire bra. In order to do that, it has to get close enough to provide support. A band that’s sliding up isn’t getting close.

But you insisted on fitting me in bands that were too large in part because that’s the only way could get close to finding cups that fit me.

It shouldn’t have to be this way, and I shouldn’t have to be telling you this. There are bra manufacturers who make bras to fit me, and there are plenty of other folks who wear bras in my same size. I’m not so very much of a statistical outlier as you seem to think I am.

Since you claim to carry cup and band sizes much smaller than mine through cup and band sizes much larger than mine, believing you would carry mine — or at least that you’d acknowledge that my size exists — was not so unreasonable.

Bottom line: If I’d wanted to be mismeasured, I could have done that at any department store. If I’d wanted to be crammed into cup sizes too small balanced out by band sizes too large, I could have done that at Target or Walmart for way cheaper than your 40Bs cost. I don’t need you for that.

[Not me -- By Callee MacAulay from Toronto, Canada ([1]) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons]

Signal Boost: Body Love Conference

See the campaign information here.

Because this is a Thing.

Because this is a Thing near me, in a region that does not always have such progressive politics.

Because I signed up to go — if it happens.

Because I am literally in tears at the possibility of talking about all this body… stuff… in person.

Like, seriously, these are a lot of tears.

If you do not have extra dollars — and I get it, a lot of people do not have extra dollars — do you please at least have a few seconds to signal boost?

Menstruation & YA Lit

I’m at a point in the year where I need to recharge, which — as you might be able to tell from the rash of book-related posts — means a lot of reading.

As I am never shy to share, I am also menstruating. Given certain facts about my life, when it happens, my menstruation consumes a lot of my brain.

I am also reading some young adult stories whose protagonists perform a lot of extended physical actions — most recently and notably, Requiem and Divergent — with pretty much zero mention of menstruation. For Divergent, it makes a fair amount of sense, as I understand the story to have taken place probably within a single menstrual cycle. But the latter two books of the Delirium series (of which Requiem is the last) definitely take place over the course of several months.

It’s not limited to these two series, either. I do not recall Tally Youngblood or Katniss Everdeen ever needing a Midol or a tampon. In fact, of stories where the presumably-menstruating protagonists are adventure-style active, the only one I know that discusses menstruation is the first book in the Song of the Lioness Quartet. Even then, it specifically discusses Alanna’s menarche as it presents complications, which is different than portraying recurring periods.

For all these characters, periods do not seem to be anything — not even an inconvenience — worth mentioning. Which leaves me feeling sort of… left out. While I understand that I’m on the far end of the spectrum when it comes to menstrual pain and bleeding — and I might not survive too long in a dystopia where I’m fighting a hostile, authoritarian government for my survival if my period showed up — a lot of folks nestled comfortably in the middle of the bell curve experience a fair amount of physical discomfort. And in books where physical sensations like hunger, thirst, pain (from injuries), cold, and fatigue are mentioned routinely… wouldn’t some mention of menstruation-related sensations be in keeping with that?

There are Reasons for this, I’m pretty sure. Maybe because some still regard talk of menstruation as gross, risque, or taboo. And maybe there’s some pressure, articulated or not, to cater to the perceived interests of male readers — and that even passing mention of menstruation is antithetical to perceived male interests.

And you know?

I, for one, am curious. How does one deal with bad cramps or bloating while stealthily foraging for food, obtaining secret information, and generally outwitting menacing government officials? Or handle tracking kidnappers and traitors across mountains and through swamps during heavy flow days? Does one simply magic it away? If the story is set in the future, has the necessity of responding to periods been rendered moot by science? Even if, in these fictitious worlds, periods are not things that need to be mentioned (because they are unobtrusive or nonexistent), as a reader in this world, it is something I still need explained to me.

Are there young adult fiction books — particularly ones where the protagonist is physically active in a way that might make it relevant to the plot — who explicitly experience and deal with periods? Am I just missing them? If my experience is more or less representative and if menstruation generally isn’t mentioned even when relevant — why not?

Leaving

It’s the time of year at schools when people leave.

I have a handful of my current students who won’t be returning next year. Their families are relocating to places outside of this city, so changing schools is a necessity rather than a preference. They’re great kids with overall supportive families; they’ll be fine no matter where they go. But it does mean that my standing end-of-year offer — “Come visit me next year!” — for them, it is probably an empty one.

I also have the last handful of my English Language Learners leaving, graduating. They are ready, and it is time, so it’s good. But I’ve known a couple of them since they literally could not put two words of English together, let alone navigate an English-based school system, so to see them so independent, confident, and successful in it… I’m pleased at their success and proud of their accomplishments, but believe me — On graduation night, I will shed tears, remembering their younger selves.

And there are teachers leaving. Some are retiring. It’s not that many, actually — as few or fewer than in past years, past schools — but it feels big. It’s people who’ve been fixtures of my school since I started teaching there. I didn’t know it at the time, but really — they’ve been fixtures of this school since I was in high school myself. So many faculty and staff literally cannot imagine the school without them. And now they’re going. Again, it’s the right time, and I wish them well — but I will miss them.

Also there are teachers leaving because they are unhappy with the school and the district. Not gonna lie: It’s been a tough year in my district. There are problems. There are valid reasons to leave. There are some good teachers leaving because bad things happened, and my life and the lives of my future students will be sadder for not having them here.

There’s another category of people leaving, too. People I want to talk about but can’t — yet. The feelings are too raw, the realities too close.

I know next year will develop its own rhythm, and a few weeks in, I’ll feel like I’ve been in that rhythm forever. But that new rhythm won’t spring up out of nothing. It will be shaped by the people who arrive and the people who remain — but also by the people who are leaving.

Brief Book Review: Requiem

Requiem is the third book in Lauren Oliver’s Delirium trilogy. While this review will not give any spoilers for the book itself, it does presume one has read the first two books in the series (and so may contain spoilers there).

This is how Tack and Raven work: It’s their private language of push and return, argument and concessions. With the cure, relationships are all the same, and rules and expectations are defined. Without the cure, relationships must be reinvented every day, languages constantly decoded and deciphered.

When I got to the last page of Requiem, I slid past it, hoping to find another chapter. I wanted to read more.

Woven into the actions, it’s a book about the complexities and uncertainties of love.

It’s about negotiating love between parents and their adult children, how that is necessarily different than loving a child or loving as a child.

It’s about coming to terms with the realization that one loves imperfect beings. That you can still care for someone who betrays you.

It’s about loving two people at once — each in their own way and where the loves are necessarily conflicting — and really, truly not knowing what to do.

And it is about saying goodbye.

Speaking of Bags of Holding

No, really, I was. Yesterday.

So speaking of bags of holding — if you had one, what would you put in yours?

Summer Book Review Series — Suggestions?

Last summer, I did a review and giveaway series of my yoga DVDs. While I would like to repeat that sort of thing this summer, I have (fortunately for space and storage issues, unfortunately for a potential series) too few unreviewed DVDs to make such a project workable.

Also, if I’m being totally forthcoming, I haven’t practiced with a DVD in several months, maybe since the last DVD I reviewed. Nor do I have any particular desire to start up again. These days, I spend a lot of asana time either self-sequencing at home or going to classes — which became infinitely easier to do now that I have the option of practicing two days per week at school for free. Probably this will change over time — though not necessarily back to regularly incorporating DVDs — but right now, I like where I am.

However. You know what else I like, that I don’t generally expect to get more than a single use from? Or at least, I don’t expect to use the same part multiple times? Books. I will always read more of them, and the vast majority of times, I read once and then pass it along. I used to horde but then realized the trickiness of that what with books taking up physical space and me not having a magic bag of holding and all.

So I’m thinking it might be interesting to do a summer book review and giveaway series this year. And I’m willing to entertain suggestions. I mean, I’m not going to read anything I’m pretty sure will make me want to shove a pencil up my nose in boredom, but if this is going to include at least some giveaways, I figure it makes sense to at least try to read what people are interested in.

Ideas? Thoughts? Suggestions?

If it’s not super new, super old, or super obscure, that would be a plus. That way, there’s a better chance I’ll be able to find a copy at one of my local used book stores. Which, fewer dollars per book equals more books. I mean, it’s not like I can’t or won’t buy the occasional new book — including for this series — but it’s not something I can afford to do on a regular basis (at least not for how much I read).

Also, if you’re looking for some more specific topic/genre ideas, a lot of my reading tends to involve:

• Physical activity — yoga, team sports, running, etc. — sometimes as how-to guides; sometimes as meditation, history, or philosophy; sometimes as real and/or fictional stories.
• Young adult fiction.
• Detective fiction.
• Dystopias.

That list is eclectic and not at all comprehensive, but if it gets you thinking, it’s a good start.

What’s everyone reading?

I will have substantive content again in the near future, I promise. I’m still recovering from writing finals, grading finals, offering feedback on final grades, filling out grade correction forms, cleaning out my classroom (I accumulate a lot of junk in there over the course of a single year, and a large portion of that involves going, “What the fuck is this shit?” while trying not to say “fuck” or “shit” out loud at school), and hunting down all of the MAGIC DISAPPEARING PEOPLE who need to initial my check out list before I’m allowed to collect further paychecks from my place of employment. I’ve been doing a lot of doing, a lot of giving out; I haven’t had much of a chance to take anything in.

Which is why I want to read and to talk about books.

Book I most recently finished: Looks by Madeline George — It was an interesting mix of solid character development and frustrating stereotypes about eating and body size. I think I’m frustrated because these are the only stereotypes I see play out in books, especially young adult books. Telling the same tired story better does not impress me as much as does telling something new. I will be interested in reading more books from this author, but I am maybe not going to rush out to buy them new in hardcover.

Book I’m reading now: Requiem, the third book in Lauren Oliver’s Delirium series — I don’t remember how I came across the first book, but I know that I bought the second one new in hardcover (i.e., I wanted to read it badly enough that I didn’t want to wait until paperback or take the chance that it would make it to the used book store). This one I seriously considered pre-ordering because I was anticipating it. I didn’t, and then the book came out when I had no money and was super busy (you know, on a day that ended in Y), so I didn’t. But I’m reading it now and liking it a lot and hoping it will bring the whole trilogy nicely together and not sputter and flail (Mockingjay, I am looking at you).

Anyone else reading anything good, bad, ridiculous or mediocre?

More Posts I Meant to Write

Still a little low on inspiration points, so I’m going to do some dashboard housekeeping instead.

These are titles of posts I meant to write at one time but no longer plan to finish (or, in some cases, really start). For some, the idea didn’t pan out as well as I’d hoped. For others, it was a momentary impulse to even write down the title — and I do not remember what I meant to write in the first place.

The list:

Just Because I’m Geeky — I do not remember what this one was going to be about.

Contraceptive Equity, an Entitlement — Also no idea, other than the descriptive title.

And We All Fall Down — I think this was actually going to be an asana sequence that focused on balance postures.

Awkwardness in Yoga Class — When the student next to me walked out in the middle of class after a disagreement with the teacher.

Slowdown or Hiatus or Something — Strangely, I can say that that last one was not talking about these past few weeks.

Getting It Right: One of Those Nights — I had this idea I would look at the Tim McGraw song from an active consent perspective.

A Periodic Reminder — No clue. I hope, for the sake of all that is good and punny in the world, that this was going to talk about menstruation. But maybe it wasn’t.

And I think that’s it. There are more titles and drafts in the “to finish” queue, but I still have hope that I will actually write those. If not, there will be yet another installment of “Posts I Meant to Write.”

That Endo Moment

Or series of moments.

When you stop taking your blood-regulating oral contraceptives a month before school lets out, on the bet that the end-of-semester stress will keep your bleeding at bay better than the synthetic hormones.

And when you notice, a month later, that your gamble paid off.

And when you shrug your shoulders and tell yourself, “Huh. If that’s what it takes.”

No, I don’t think that end-of-year stress — especially this year’s end-of-year stress — is healthy or sustainable. But neither is living with chronic pain.

Pigeon Variants: Functional Pigeon

I’m about to deviate from the hip series yet again. I know, I know. But I really do think pigeon is a sufficiently involved posture to merit some further exploration. As a starting point, I keep going back to Yoga Anatomy’s assertion that the piriformis is stretched the most when it’s flexed, externally rotated, and adducted.

I investigated the rotation bit here; now I’m interested in adduction versus abduction. I’ve known a number of yoga teachers who teach the posture with the font hip abducted, so the thigh tracks wide of the hip socket. I’ve also known a number of yoga teachers who teach the posture with the front thigh tracking right in line with the hip socket, which — when the thigh is laterally rotated — means the thigh is at least slightly adducted. Most of all, I know a large number of yoga students — me included — who do one or the other (or who — me included — vacillate between options) without really understanding the anatomy behind it.

And while I don’t think the following video gives me complete anatomical understanding (all the tiny little hip rotator muscles? where are they in this abduction versus adduction business?), it is a very good start:

[Hope Zvara instructing. Video via YouTube.]

I’ve done the abdominal and pelvic floor engagement thing for a while, so that part is not exactly new to me. I won’t say I’ve never collapsed into my low back during pigeon, but I’m pretty confident I’ve avoided the error since I first started trying this expression of it. Strange as it sounds on the surface, I’ve found it to be generally unwise to rely primarily on one’s back muscles while entering a deeper backbend. Pelvic floor and abdominal engagement are musts for my king pigeon, and they’ve followed me as default settings into the more common pigeon as well.

As for the femur angle in the socket, that is not something I’d previously considered. I was honestly a little skeptical at first because generally, when my femur hits against part of its socket — hello, bound angle! — I feel it very locally inside my hip socket, rather than in, say, my sacrum or sciatic nerve. But then I went, “Hey, isn’t it you who does not understand about the interplay between hip flexion and rotation and adduction and all that stuff? Why don’t you maybe shut up and try it?” And so I did.

Because when I even tell myself to shut up, I probably mean business.

And you know?

It did feel different.

Before, I would never have described the hip-abducted version as “pinching” — and to be fair, I probably still wouldn’t — but the sensation was definitely more localized compared to the adducted version. That is, for a hip-abducted pigeon, I feel the sensation almost exclusively in the band right around my hip crease. There is sometimes mild sensation along my glute and/or my IT band — but it’s not always present, and if it is, it’s never particularly noticeable.

With the hip adducted version, the overall intensity level decreases. However, I’m not sure if that’s because the sum total of the sensation is less or because it’s spread out over more butt. Er, more muscle and surface area. This is the version I feel predominantly in my glutes — couldn’t say which ones, maybe all three — somewhat in my hamstring, and somewhat along my IT band.

I have to say, the adducted version did feel more productive for me. It’s easier to feel the muscle relaxing, and with a longer hold, I end up with more purposeful shape changes, moving deeper into the posture. I also find that I have less fidgeting and less of an impulse to fidget.

My only complaint is one of proportions. With the abducted version, my torso ends up folding over my lower shin in an uncomplicated fashion. No big deal. However, with hip adduction, there’s boobs and belly and thigh all trying to make peace with a forward fold. I still have some sorting out to do there.

Summer Practice

Our school year is winding down. With final exams and graduation and summer break comes a disruption in our after school yoga routine. It doesn’t inconvenience me personally very much since I have an established home practice and meaningful access (i.e., time, funds, and transportation) to a number of yoga studios in my city. The same is not true for all my yoga students, so I shouldn’t have been too surprised when one of them commented to me, “I’d like to keep practicing over the summer, but I’m not really sure what to do. Like, I can do the poses, but I don’t know how to put them together.”

Which I think is a pretty common issue, knowing individual poses but being uncertain as to how to sequence a whole asana practice. So I put this together as a basic framework for my students and anyone else who wants it. The idea is that there are basic categories and specific examples; they can use the specific examples as they are, or they can choose to substitute in different poses within the category as they see fit. Additionally, as they become more comfortable in their home practice, they can choose to emphasize or de-emphasize different categories according to what they need that day.

I’ll also note here — The categories and example postures I used were listed with my current students in mind. While they’ve had limited yoga instruction (generally, our class only, and not even every week) and run the spectrum of levels of fitness, they also tend to be young, able-bodied — and to practice asana while they are free of any temporary physical injuries. Even though I think it’s a good basic sequence for them, it is not a one-size-fits-all practice.

Centering — The point of centering is to bring your attention to the practice you’re about to do. It might be where you let go of whatever happened earlier that day or whatever lists you have of things yet to do. It might be where you take stock of how you’re feeling, what you need today — and to set an intention. It will probably be a posture you hold for several breaths. I am a big fan of child’s pose for centering, but a lot of people use easy seated or sometimes constructive rest.

Warm Up — The point of a warm up is to put your body gently through its ranges of motion. This warm up focuses mostly on the spine, with a little going into the upper arms and legs. If your practice is going to ask a lot of a particular body part, it’s a good idea to include that body part in the warm up.

• Traditional cat and cow, 5 rounds.
• Lateral cat/cow or wag the dog, 5 rounds.
• Twisted child’s pose, 5 breaths on each side.
• Down dog, with any movement you need, 5 breaths.
• Then step forward into uttanasana and ardha uttanasana for 3-5 breaths.

Sun Salutations — They’re an excellent way to get the blood flowing, they help stretch and strengthen a lot of the body’s muscle groups, and they can be a complete physical work out on their own. I’m going to suggest 5 rounds of Sun Salute A for this practice because it’s one of the ones with the fewest steps, making it mentally less complicated.

Standing Postures — In addition to building lower body strength, standing postures are good for helping you feel grounded and stable.

• Starting on the right side, try — each for 5 breaths — warrior 2, reverse warrior, side angle, and triangle. If you need to hold for fewer breaths, do. If you need to take a break, do. I just picked 5 because that’s the number I’m using for this sequence. You know, for consistency’s sake.
• Take a wide legged forward fold, as deep or as shallow as is comfortable, for 5 breaths.
• Repeat the sequence on the left side. Probably repeat the forward fold, too. It’s kind of awesome.

Balance Postures — I am pretty sure that we practice balance postures to teach us humility. Or that every day is different. Or to focus only on the present moment and not live outside of our bodies. Or that falling on our butts is way comfier than falling on our faces. You pick.

• Tree pose (any variation) or any other standing balance you want, 5 breaths on each side.
• Since crow seemed to be a favorite, try that. Maybe 2 rounds, 5 breaths per round. That way, if you’re not getting up in the balance yet for whatever reason, you can try one round lifting just the right toes up, and the next round lifting just the left.

Backbends — Your back should be reasonably warmed up from sun salutes, and so this would be the time to do whatever your deepest backbend of the day (or deepest backbends, plural) is going to be. They’re really good to counter all the forward bending — sometimes “slouching” — that we tend to do. But because backbends also tend to be energizing poses, they’re maybe more appropriate here than at the very end of a practice. I like camel and bow about equally well for this, but there’s no reason bridge, wheel, locust, or cobra wouldn’t work for it instead. Whatever version you choose, maybe start by doing 2 rounds, 5 breaths per round. Rest in between to give your spine a chance to decompress.

Seated Poses — This is the part of the practice where we start winding down, so things here start to be about going slower and working less. To that end, I’m going to suggest fewer poses and longer holds from this point forward. If at any point, you want to stay in a posture longer than I suggest, go for it.

• A simple seated twist, for 5-10 breaths on each side, to relieve any tension that might have arisen in the backbend. If you’ve done a gentler backbend, a deeper twist may be a good idea; if the backbend was at your edge, a gentler twist is probably in order.
• Bound angle pose, the standard yang variety, for 10 breaths. Then the yin version for another 10.

Inversions — In terms of yoga philosophy, we practice inversions to reverse the flow of gravity and to move lymph back throughout the body. In everyday life, I practice inversions because it feels fun to be upside down.

• For the most part, legs up the wall is a safe and solid inversion to hold for 10 or so breaths. If something like shoulderstand or headstand prep feels right to you, then feel free to substitute that in instead. Or do a little of the more strenuous inversion followed by legs up the wall. You pick.

Supine Poses — To bring the body toward final relaxation. My suggested sequence:

• Lying spinal twist, any flavor, 10 breaths per side.
• Any last movements or postures your body wants or needs.
• Savasana.

So that’s a practice that takes me about 30 minutes without savasana (or about 35 with), which is a time that I find manageable on most days. However, length can be subtracted by reducing hold time or removing some postures; similarly, length can be added by increasing hold time or adding additional postures. As a framework, it’s meant to be played with. So play.

The Bathroom Bill & Other Winners

On the state of LGBTQ-related legislation in Arizona.

While the state’s current adoption statute allows unmarried people, regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity, to petition to adopt, only a “husband and wife” may jointly adopt children. It does not provide for joint adoption by people in other domestic partnerships. In fact, if other factors are equal, current law gives explicit placement preference to “a married man and woman.”