I'm a Princess!

Video game princesses no longer need your rescue efforts.

Not really, but apparently, Dannah Gresh can tell me how to become one.

Huh, that's weird. Her advice does not include either being born to royalty or marrying royalty. How odd. I wonder what definition of "princess" Gresh is usi-

Oh.

A University of Chicago sex study said that 54 percent of men thought about sex daily—a number that caused humorist Dave Barry to conclude, "The other 46 percent of the men are lying." (Ha!) I've seen many studies about this and they vary some, but all agree with one thing. Guys think about sex a lot.

Ha! It's not guys who think about sex a lot, it's human beings who think about sex a lot. Yet you never see articles aimed at men telling them how to keep women from thinking sexy thoughts about them. (You'll have to stop existing, guys. It's the only way.)

The Royal Wardrobe

Belly rings. Miniskirts. Hip-huggers. The fashion world today screams sex for the poor guys out there who struggle to live a lifestyle of purity. Since clothes don't affect girls and women in the same way, we continue to wear the latest trends. If you are like me, it's a bit hard to get perspective on this since the fashion trends stare us down every single day. So let's grab some perspective by looking at another day and age.

Look, if you're going to complain about fashion trends, could you complain about modern fashion trends? Would it kill you to open an issue of Glamour or check out Go Fug Yourself?

Little Women was written when the fashion was to push a young woman's bust line up to her neckline. In the book, beautiful (and normally modest) Meg March went to Annie Moffat's "coming out" party. The other girls attending convinced her to let them dress her, complete with a corset and low-cut neckline.

Meg blushed at herself when she looked in the mirror and determined not to let the way she was dressed affect the person she was, but it did very much affect her. Into the evening, her neighbor Laurie found her dancing frivolously at every offer, flirting freely, and drinking. He confronted her much like a brother, sarcastically admitting he didn't like the way she was dressed.

Later, Laurie apologized for being so harsh with her, and Meg admitted the way she was dressed had made her behave badly, saying, "Take care my skirt doesn't trip you up; it's the plague of my life and I was a goose to wear it." Laurie encouraged her, "Pin it round your neck, and then it will be useful."

Seriously, Little Women is your evidence? Hear that sound? That's my forehead smashing my desk to bits. Little Women is proof of nothing. I'm perfectly capable of whipping out logic and reason while wearing 5" platform wedges and a sexy little Ralph Lauren number*. Happened this summer, in fact. (Walking in said shoes, not so much.)

On your dates and in your every day life, do you want to be merely decorative, a trait that will someday wear away?

No, I don't wish to be merely decorative, but I may as well enjoy the pretty while it lasts.

I do not want to tell you what I think you should and should not wear. But might I suggest a litmus test for you wardrobe? When you put an outfit on, ask yourself, "Do I feel sexy?" I'm not talking about feeling good or attractive. I am talking about feeling seductive. You know what I mean! If you don't know, then you are probably OK. But if you do know, then you probably have a few things in your wardrobe that need to go. If you feel seductive, you probably are, and that can be very dangerous on a date. It will change the way that you behave and the way your date expects you to behave. Be careful in choosing your royal wardrobe.

Let me tell you something, Dannah, sexy clothes are not dangerous on a date. Rapists are dangerous on a date. My clothes are irrelevant. For the record, if I can't answer the question "Do I feel sexy?" in the affirmative, I change until I can.

The Princess's Kingdom

So, you're dressed and ready to go. Where should you go? A princess should always stay within the confines of her own kingdom where she is safely guarded under the watchful eye of her public.

So, the answer to where you should go is nowhere. Nice.

I have a friend named Mark who, when he was dating, knew his weakness was to be consumed with his physical desire. Even in his early twenties, he wanted his dating relationship to be governed by some strict principles. So, when Hannah caught his eye, he asked her father for the right to "court" her. They spent "dates" sitting on the sofa in her parents' living room under watchful and loving eyes.

So . . . Mark is a rapist? That's what you've written there, Dannah. Mark can't control his physical impulses, his date is apparently powerless before him . . . this is not something we should be celebrating.

The second thing that girls who attend my retreats tell me is that nothing good ever happens in a horizontal position. Even if other friends are around and they're lounging on a beanbag together, they agree that lying down is a bad line to cross. Lying down is very symbolic of letting your guard down. Don't do it. Stay vertical!

Oh, my. I can't imagine what these peoples' sex lives are like.

The Conduct of the Princess

Now you've probably got an idea of whom you will be with, how you will dress, and where you will or won't go. Now, how will you act?

Wearing your heart on your sleeve and not being cautious with your actions is not a good idea. It sets you up for great hurt and, to be honest, guys are not nearly as likely to desperately yearn for you when you are so easily caught! Guys are competitive and have an insatiable need to get what they think they have to earn.

Isn't there a commandment about lying? I would think playing games with people would fall under the umbrella of lying. As for the whole business of "guys like to chase and once you're caught it's over", bullfuckingshit. Any man who is turned on purely by the chase isn't relationship material. If what you want is a relationship, go find another man. Seriously, stop playing games. It's a terrible way to treat people.

Write Your Story

Okay. Now it's time to work! I'd like you to do three things with your journal. Take your journal into your clothes closet or sit with it next to your dresser wardrobe. Look through your clothes and kick out what needs to go … now! Don't give that stuff to someone else. Trash it.

Don't donate your clothing to poor people! You wouldn't want them to feel sexy, either. Ignoring the whole recycling issue, I guess it didn't occur to this woman that a) what's sexy on you could very well be modest on someone else, and b) those immoral poor people might really need those clothes. Hey, kids, can you say "privilege"?

Now, tell God how good that feels. (Or if you didn't have to trash anything, praise Him for keeping you modest whether through your own decision or rules that your parents have.) While you're in there writing, jot down some thoughts on where you can go on a date where you live—places that allow you to stay public!

If you say it enough, it really will feel good. Really. Try it. Brainwash yourself.

Finally, talk to God about your heart. Write down the names of people you've given it to and ask God to reclaim it. Trust Him to write a love story beyond your wildest imagination. Determine to be governed by your value, not your heart.

I should not be valued for my heart? My heart has no value? What an odd thought. Oh, silly me, I'm female, only my long gone hymen has value.

*Discount shopping FTW!

pic link

Major Lulz from the Sheltered - Chapter 4

In today's exciting chapter in Life of a Teenage Slut, God steals an ipod! (Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3)

Wednesday morning dawned bright and cheery. Leona made her way down to the kitchen where
she heard her parents already eating breakfast.

Which leads me to the belief that Leona's parents eat with their mouths open, making what she heard a lot of slurping and gulping. Ew.

“Hello, dear!” Mrs. Jackson looked up from her bowl of cereal and grapefruit. “Sleep well?”
“Hi, Mom,” Leona answered. “Yeah, I did...hi, Dad,” she added, seeing her dad sitting across the small breakfast table from her mother.

This is a style criticism: the story is told from Leona's point of view in what's called Third Person Limited Viewpoint. We see everything through Leona's eyes and through the bias of her perspective. Why would Leona think of her mother as "Mrs. Jackson"? Also, she heard her "parents" eating, why does she just now notice dad, especially considering that he's probably at most two feet away from mom.

“Good-morning, Leona.” He looked up from his newspaper. “Where did you go yesterday? We hardly saw anything of you.”

That is really archaic language, probably caused by the fact that good fundys don't read any fiction written after Jane Austen's works. (What exactly they think Jane Austen wrote about is whole 'nother post.) The problem with using archaic words or structure in a modern story is that it jars the reader right out of the story. You want your reader to be absorbed, not stopping to say things aloud to see if they sound any more normal when spoken aloud.

Leona halted in making her English muffin. Since when had her parents been interested in her activities?

WAH! Sorry, her parents still sound like really nice people to me. I think Miss Raquel is trying to paint them as neglectful secularists, but they just seem . . . nice. Leona, on the other hand, is a whingey, spoiled brat.

“Oh, I had a few places to go,” she said, as nonchalantly as possible. She willed her muffin to hurry
its toasting.
“What was that book you brought home?” her mother asked.
Leona’s back went rigid. How did they know about the Bible that Peter had given her yesterday? She turned to face them. “How did you know about that?”

So, that's weird. That's weird on a lot of levels. Bibles are very distinctive books, and I cannot believe that Leona's parents wouldn't be able to identify one easily, unless they just arrived on this planet yesterday. Secondly, why is Leona so upset that her parents know about her Bible? She's acting like her parents found her stash of porn, and it's extreme furry BDSM at that.

“I saw it on your night stand, dear,” her mother explained. “After you came home last afternoon, you just fell into bed to rest. I went up to check on you and saw that you had been reading it. I was just curious.”

These people talk like aliens. It's like the book is set in 1850.

She rushed out of the kitchen and headed up to her room. She closed the door behind herself and reached for her purse. She needed some music to calm her before she started crying again. She sifted through her purse in search of her iPod, but couldn’t find it.

okay, so set in the modern day.

Where did it go? She wondered, then thought of a possibility. When she had gotten her wallet out at the Pregnancy Center, she had set her iPod on the counter, and couldn’t remember if she had put it back in her purse or not.
Great! She thought to herself. I wasn’t planning on going back to that place any time soon. I guess this calls for an unscheduled appointment.

Or a phone call. Is this some alternate reality 1850 in which people have ipods but not phones?

She went downstairs and quietly headed out the front door. She didn’t want her parents nosing into her business again and ask her where she was going.

Yes, those horrible people that don't care about her at all. But always ask her where she's going. Exactly like people who care.

Ten minutes later, she pulled up at the Center. She saw Sarah at the receptionist’s desk through the glass door.
“Hi, Leona!” Sarah called out, as Leona entered the building.
Leona was a bit surprised that Sarah remembered her name. “Hi,” she called back.
“In for another chat?” Sarah asked with a smile.
“Um, no,” Leona answered. “I think I left my iPod here yesterday by accident.”
"Oh, was that yours?” Sarah asked, coming around the desk. She walked to a drawer cabinet by the side exit door and reached into one of its drawers. “Here it is!” she pulled out Leona’s green iPod and handed it to her.
“Thanks,” Leona said, with a small smile. She stuck the iPod back in its rightful place.
“Don’t mention it,” Sarah responded. “We’re glad to have it back to its rightful owner. We were wondering whose it was.”

So, yeah. More confirmation that everyone in this story will speak in exactly the same voice, all the way through. Look, I know it's hard to give characters distinct styles of speech separate from each other and from your own, but at least try. Here, let me show you how it's done (altered text in purple):

Ten minutes later, she pulled up at the Center. She saw Sarah at the receptionist’s desk through the glass door.
“Hoy, Leona!” Sarah called out, as Leona entered the building.
Leona was a bit surprised that Sarah remembered her name. “Hi,” she called back.
“In for anodder chat?” Sarah asked with a smile.
“Um, no,” Leona answered. “I think I left my iPod here yesterday by accident.”
"Oh, vas dat yous?” Sarah asked, coming around the desk. She walked to a drawer cabinet by the side exit door and reached into one of its drawers. “Here it is!” she pulled out Leona’s green iPod and handed it to her.
“Thanks,” Leona said, with a small smile. She stuck the iPod back in its rightful place.
“Dun mention it,” Sarah responded. “Ve’re glad to hef it back to its rightful owner. Ve vere vonderink hooz it vas”

See, you can tell Sarah from Leona now. And, quite frankly, I think this story is vastly improved by transforming Sarah into a Jaegermonster. (And now I'm considering rewriting A Tale of Two Cities so that every major character is a Jaegermonster. It might even be readable when I'm done, which is more than I can say for the original.)

Just then, the bell over the front door tingled as someone entered the Center.

That's obviously a typo. I'm sure she meant to say that the door "tinkled". However, the idea of the door tingling is pretty amusing.

“Sarah!” a male voice called out cheerily.

*headdesk* This is a pet peeve of mine, along with "his eyes rested on the floor". (His "gaze" rested on the floor. If his eyes rested on the floor, something terrible occurred that I don't really want to know about.) A male voice did not and cannot call out, cheerily or otherwise. Someone can call out in a male voice, but let's just say "a man called out, 'Sarah!' ".

“Peter!” she answered. “What are you doing here?”
The two hugged each other and then Sarah remembered that Leona was still present.

Ouch! Perspective switch whiplash!

“Oh, Leona,” Sarah turned to her. “Meet Peter Gunn.”
Peter and Leona were both very surprised to see each other again.

And again! "Peter looked as surprised to see Leona as she felt at seeing him again."

“Oh!” Leona exclaimed.
“Why, Leona Jackson!” Peter grinned widely. “I’m sorry; I didn’t see you. How extraordinary that we meet again!”

Peter is apparently a refugee from Sense and Sensibility.

Peter quickly explained how he had met Leona yesterday evening. Leona felt herself flush with embarrassment to know that Peter now knew why she had been crying when he had first met her. Why else would she be at the Pregnancy Center?

This rings true. I can definitely see an 18-year-old girl feeling very embarrassed by this.

Leona wanted to change the subject desperately and said the first thing that came to mind. “So, you two are married?”

That's the first thing that comes to mind? Remember, Leona isn't from Miss Raquel's world, in which people marry young and members of the opposite sex don't touch unless they are married or blood relatives. Leona is from our world, in which it is in no way odd for a man and a woman to greet each other with a hug. "So you guys are friends?" would be a believable question from Leona, but "Are you married?" is bizarre.

Sarah and Peter both laughed.
“Goodness no!” Sarah said with a smile. “Peter’s my brother.”
“Oh,” Leona said again. Why did she feel relieved?

Dude. You are 2 or 3 months pregnant by a guy who dumped you yesterday. Maybe another man isn't what you need right now.

“I’m not married,” Sarah said simply.

Why? Why does she say this?

“Uncle Petey!” Leona saw Luke exit from the back toy room and rush up to Peter. Peter lifted him up in the air and Luke giggled with glee.

So, yesterday Leona is enraged to see a woman threatening her daughter's life with a possibly cold cup of coffee, but today a toddler in a room by himself is no big deal. Okay then.

“Come see car I make,” Luke said, in his progressing English.
“Okay,” Peter said and followed Luke’s direction to the back room that he had just exited.

How many back rooms are there?

"Uncle?” Leona asked, puzzled.
“Yes,” Sarah said. “Luke is my son.”
“But...” Leona was confused. “You said - ” Then she stopped. What right had she to be asking Sarah why she had a son if she wasn’t married, when she herself was pregnant out of wedlock? Leona’s face turned red and she ducked her head to hide her embarrassment.

Nearly 4 in 10 babies are born to unmarried parents in the US, but Leona just can't even wrap her brain around the idea that Sarah is a single mom? Nobody out here in the real world is the slightest bit surprised to meet someone who had a child out of wedlock. We just aren't.

“That’s how I qualify,” Sarah stated simply.
“I beg your pardon?” Leona asked.
“That’s how I’m able to counsel. Because I know what the young woman is going through.” Sarah said this with a kind look. “I was once like you, Leona, except a bit younger. I got pregnant when I was 14.”
Leona was shocked. Not necessarily at how old Sarah had been, but...she would never have guessed that this happy, beautiful girl could ever have gone through the same circumstances that Leona herself felt and was experiencing.

See, now we would be surprised at the age. Being pregnant at 14 will make the rest of us moralize about babies having babies and such. Also, now you know exactly what qualifications the "counselors" at pregnancy centers have.

“I didn’t want to tell my parents. I was afraid that they would kick me out of the house...disown me. My boyfriend was...well, let’s just say, ‘not involved’. I was so scared! Scared for myself, scared for the baby. Even as young as I was, I knew that what I carried in me was a life. I couldn’t bring myself to go to the abortion clinic. I had to try to find a way to keep the baby and myself alive.

Yes, Sarah, the children's agencies in the state you live in would have done nothing to protect you had you contacted them. There are no foster homes, no schools for pregnant teens, no adoption services, nothing. You were totally on your own.

I didn’t have the nerve to tell my parents, but I did tell Peter.” Sarah paused and smiled. “As you might’ve already guess, we’re very close to each other, even though he’s four years older than me. I told him that I was pregnant and he was...to say the least, shocked. But, he didn’t yell, he didn’t tell our parents - because I asked him not to, and he knew that he needed to help me. He was a Christian already - before me, and he knew about this pregnancy center and brought me here. That’s when I first met Miranda - Mrs. Black, as she’s known around here. She ‘took me under her wing’, if you want to say.”

"Mrs. Black, as she’s known around here."? Is "Mrs. Black" an alias? Is she known as Professor White somewhere else?

Let's confront something important to this story because it keeps coming up. In this story, it's the nonchristian parents who kick out their pregnant daughters, but the Christians do nothing but support their wayward children. Bullshit. I know lots of people who got pregnant in high school. Their parents weren't happy about it, but they did support them. The two girls from fundamentalist Christian families weren't nearly so lucky, which is how I know about state services for pregnant girls kicked out by their parents.

Sarah moved from her chair and sat in one next to Leona. She put her arm around Leona’s shoulders and said, “I’m guessing that my story is a lot like yours.” It was more a statement than a question.
Leona could only nod. “I don’t know what to do, Sarah,” she finally managed to gasp. “If my parents find out, they’ll....they’ll kill me. I wouldn’t know what to do or where to go. It would be impossible to have a job to support myself and the baby. My boyfriend ditched me - doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. I wouldn’t have anywhere to go. I don’t have a sweet, older brother like you do, and I’m sure Mrs. Black doesn’t want another daughter. Oh, it’s just impossible, Sarah! I can’t do this!”

I'll say it again. We have seen no evidence that Leona's parents would kick her out for being pregnant. None. They are presented as perfectly nice people who love their child. Yet I'm supposed to believe they are horrible people who will leave their only child to freeze in the snow.

“You can, Leona,” Sarah said, firmly but gently, with a squeeze on Leona’s shoulders for extra measure. “With God’s help, you can.”
Leona stiffened and shrugged off Sarah’s arm. “I don’t have God like you do. I don’t believe that He would let something so bad happen to me - an innocent bystander. It’s not fair! People say that He loves everyone and wants to help them. Well, why would He let something this bad happen to me? No, Sarah, don’t start telling me about God. He can’t help me. Anymore...anymore than you can!” With that, Leona, now flushed with anger and frustration, stood up from her seat and walked to the door.
“Leona,” Sarah called.
Leona stopped and waited before turning and looking at Sarah.
“God gave you that little life for a reason. It’s a precious gift. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”
Leona glared at her for a second, before walking out the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Peter leaning against the doorframe of the play room, watching her leave.

$5 says Peter and Leona get married by the end of this story.

Major Lulz from the Sheltered - Chapter 3

And the lulz just keep on comin'! (Chapter 1, Chapter 2)

In today's episode of Slut-Shaming for Dummies Life's Choices, our most improbably named 18-year-old mentally debates adoption and single motherhood and meets a proselytizer with a porn name in a parking lot*.

Two hours later, Leona emerged from the counseling room of the Lewis County Pregnancy Center. Mrs. Black hugged her before she headed out to her car. Sarah waved at her and called a good-bye from behind the receptionist counter and little Luke added his own version good-bye.

You mean waving goodbye? Children under the age of 1 can handle that amazing feat. Luke is supposed to be 3, I believe.

Leona smiled to herself as she got into her car. The people she had met at the Center were so cheerful and sweet...made her feel welcome and wanted. Her day felt brand new.

Christians can cleanse not only souls, but days, too!

She decided to stop by her favorite coffee shop and grab a latte. She hadn’t had one for a while and thought she needed the treat.

Because that's what liberals do, right? They drink overpriced coffee-based beverages, yeah, I think.

As Leona sipped her hot latte,

ahem. speaking as an official liberal drinker of overpriced coffee-based beverages, I can tell you that lattes are assumed to be hot unless specified otherwise. "Hot latte" is a weird phrase to someone who actually does visit coffee shops on a regular basis. (Well, mostly Dunkin' Donuts. And I don't generally get lattes, but still, the point stands.)

she thought back to her conversation with Mrs. Black. The woman made her feel as if she had known her all her life. It was so easy to talk to her...to tell her what her life was like. She was able to tell her about Jerry and how he had left her after finding out that she was pregnant. Mrs. Black seemed to really understand what Leona was feeling and sympathized with her. But even after her talk with Mrs. Black, Leona still felt that she wouldn’t be able to keep the baby. It wasn’t fair to him or her that they should grow up with just one parent - never knowing their biological father.

Full stop. Your average, normal, liberal teen would never think this. Maybe 1 in a 100 might possibly, I suppose, but no. It is assumed in this day and age that teen mothers will raise their own children, probably without the equally teen father around to help. And who thinks "biological father" like that, anyway? Why not just "father"?

When she had asked Mrs. Black for other alternatives, the older woman had given her several. Carry the baby to full-term and keep him/her or give birth to him/her and then the baby up for adoption or foster.

That's actually not several alternatives, that's two, and only one of those is an alternative to keeping the baby herself. (I really fail to see the difference between "foster" and "adoption" in this instance if Leona doesn't want to consider raising the baby without the father who has already left her.)

Leona was sure that it would never work to keep the baby. And she wasn’t sure about the whole adoption process. At least she could make sure that the baby would go to a better home. But...hadn’t she been thinking all along that the baby shouldn’t have to grow up not knowing his or her father? Why would she want to give her baby away and for it not to know both of its parents?

Well, yeah, actually. Good point. Never gets addressed.

Abortion seemed like such an easy choice. She wouldn’t have to worry about telling her parents, or about the whole adoption procedure, or even have to have a huge belly in front of her for 9 whole months! How embarrassing would that be - having to tell everyone, who asked her, that she was a single mom?

Um, is Leona an elephant? She's already 3 months pregnant, so why would she have a pregnant belly for 9 more months? 6 more months, absolute tops. Also, while everyone who sees you will forget etiquette and normal social rules and quiz you endlessly about the baby, nobody will ask you about the father. Especially not if you look young. Except for really judgmental religious types. They'll jump right in with the slut shaming.

So then some woman is careless, well, not really at all**, with her child and Leona screams at her and then realizes- gasp!- she was about to kill her own baby, so how can she complain if someone else lets their baby play in traffic! So then she runs out to her car and cries and then some nice (probably Christian) boy asks if she's okay, and we get this:

She wasn’t sure if she should roll down her window or not. He might be one of those lunatics that always wandered around large parks. But he seemed harmless enough and genuinely concerned. Besides, he didn’t look loony. His dark hair was combed neatly and he had on a nice polo shirt and slacks.

Yes, large parks (which is not where Leona is, btw) are always mobbed by the mentally ill/psychopathic killers. It's hard to even find a place for a picnic anymore, what with with all the crazies taking up the space. Nothing like insulting the mentally ill in the middle of your slut shaming.

So, the not-obviously-a-serial-killer (who is?) is Peter Gunn (a porn name if I ever heard one) who hands her a Bible. Then we learn that if two people in one day tell you about this Jesus fellow- who's that?- it must be true.

Leona tossed the Bible onto the passenger seat of her car and started the engine. She had one of those at home, but never read it. Why was God suddenly coming into her life? Sure, she had heard about Him at that Sunday school that she used to go to before she had decided to stay home from church altogether. Her parents sometimes talked about Him, but when she had told them to lay off being preachy to her, they had. They didn’t go to church anymore either.

I guess our family just sort of got bored with it, she thought to herself.
But first that DJ on the radio station and now this guy that just happened to stop at her car and hand her this Bible. This was too much.

Why was her life changing so fast?

Wow, a DJ on a religious station and some guy in a parking lot both talked about god on the same day- it's too much! Why, god, why?!

*I bet you anything this is the plot to an actual porno, and the name is something like "Parking Lot Pussy 5".

**If you haven't had children what happens might come across as extreme carelessness, but as someone who has raised a small child, I can tell you that no matter how careful you are, children get hurt. It's what they do. They also eat dust bunnies, shove pennies up their noses and trip over chalk lines. All in the 24 seconds it takes you to pee.

That Can't Be Healthy

you'll know exactly when in the post i made this face as soon as you get there.

Every now and again people ask me why I pound on fundys on the internet*. "So what? blahblahblah Freedom of speech blahblahblah Who cares?"

The problem is, there are people who care what fundys think, and those people have children. It can get very disturbing, very quickly, thusly.

SARAH WRITES:

I’m a happily married mother of two young girls (ages 3 and 5). I want to bring my children up to embrace the kind of ideas and moral virtues you espouse on your blog, but there’s a small problem. Unfortunately, in my quest to encourage their remaining chaste until marriage, let’s just say that leading by example won’t be an option. My great fear is that a ‘do-as-I-say,-not-as-I-do (or did)’ approach will ultimately be ineffectual. Should I lie to them about what went on before meeting my husband/their father, tell them the truth (with 101 disclaimers!) or simply hope that the topic doesn’t arise?! Maybe I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, but rightly or wrongly, the issue is weighing on my mind.

I wasn’t really taught about the inherent morality of abstinence at my liberal Christian school (although I am Jewish…long story!). Abstinence was simply presented as a method of birth-control alongside the pill, condoms and IUD’s. My mother told me in a matter-of-fact way, when asked, that she lost her virginity at age 16. If she regretted having had premarital relations, she certainly didn’t let me in on it. Around the time I turned 18 she started to actively encourage me to dress provocatively in order to attract the opposite sex. When this inevitably worked, as it did time and again, her only advice to me was to use protection and, above all, DO NOT GET PREGNANT. My father didn’t get involved at all in such matters. The popular culture at the time was possibly more sex-obsessed than at any other time in history and I was fully immersed in it. Madonna’s ’sex book’ was a best-seller, George Michael was telling me that ’sex is natural, sex is fun’ and I believed it all. So, in 1992, at the age of 19, I lost my virginity. I regret it now. Oh, how I regret it. But I didn’t regret it back then. At the time it felt, well, inevitable. Until I found blogs like yours and ‘Oz Conservative’, I didn’t really know of any alternative reality. Sure I knew what chastity was, but I thought it was something that only the Victorians actually practised. Maybe if the Internet had existed back then with sites like yours…

Thank you for taking the time to read my little note and thank you again for your wonderful blog.

So disturbing on so many levels. The "wonderful blog" in question is a vomit-inducing barrage of misogyny, homophobia, fundyism and condescension that should only be viewed by professionals, and then only in small doses. This thing is on my reader, but unlike any other site on my reader, I time when I review the previews of the posts. The previews. Even the titles are occasionally enough to send me into red-faced rage. I can't do that first thing in the morning. That takes preparation. And I'm not clicking on that Oz Conservative link.**

Anyway, let's review what Sarah is saying: My parents let me make my own decisions about things. They trusted me to make good decisions for myself and felt that my body was my own to decide about. I was taught about abstinence, but at the time, I didn't think it was a better option than other forms of birth control. I chose to have sex before marriage and I didn't think there was anything wrong with that- until I found your blog and now I realize that I WAS A HUGE SLUT AND SHOULD BE ASHAMED. How can I remove decision making from my own children's lives?

I cannot tell you how disturbing I find this. First of all, yes, when you make decisions, you may make bad decisions. You may regret those decisions. Welcome to being an adult. Secondly, asking Laura for advice? Yikes. Seriously, if Laura told me that proper sandwiches involve bread, I'd have to reevaluate everything I know about sandwiches.

Laura's answer:

Thank you for writing. You are not making a mountain out of a molehill. The issue you raise is important. The majority of women who are now mothers have experienced promiscuity firsthand. Do mothers have any authority, let alone the desire, to raise children differently? The answer is simple. It does not require strained logic or unprincipled exceptions. There is only one answer. I hope you will see it and never have any doubts about this issue again.

SLUTS!!!!1!!!eleventy!!!! Of course there's only one answer- Laura's answer.

I used to know a woman who was very beautiful. In fact, she was the most beautiful woman I have ever known, perfect in every way, like a goddess. She had high cheekbones and doe-like eyes and a voice that was unusually deep for a woman but which added to her overall mystery and remarkable beauty. I knew her as a child, she was a few years older, and I have followed her life ever since. For years she had many lovers and one central boyfriend. They were perfecting their intimacy, this man and she, and both hedged about getting married. They went back and forth for years, dissecting their relationship. Finally, when she was in her mid-forties, he decided that the thing he wanted most in life was to have children. Needless to say, it was too late for her. She is still good-looking and has since found another man, incredibly wealthy and recently divorced. He asked her to quit her job and help him raise his young children. She did. He promised marriage but has since decided he’d rather not. He did, however, buy her a new car. For all those years of love, this ravishingly beautiful and self-assured woman has one thing left: a car.

Wow. You know what, I have written about Laura before, haven't I? She had a similar fascination with women in that post, too. Isn't Goddess Hobag's tale tragic? Isn't that what happens to every woman who has sex before marr- what? It's not? One little story does not a trend make? Your friend's tragic tale doesn't actually prove anything? Welcome to Logic 101, Laura.

This is a relatively trivial example of the harm the sexual revolution has caused. A river of tears runs through our culture. Sex is miraculous and we have made it dull and destructive, murderous even and cruel. But, I don’t have to tell you all this. You already know it. You have found happiness, but you still see the waste, the loss of something sacred.

A river of tears runs through our culture? Is that the Mississippi or the Rio Grande? And when did sex get dull, destructive, murderous (scaring me, you are) and cruel? When I have sex it's none of those things. You didn't accidentally wander into an extreme BDSM club at some point, did you? This is seriously freaking me the fuck out.

Oh, Quantum Field, no! She's probably the one who gives "the talk" to her children!

That’s the most important thing, that you see the waste and admit your own role in it. Wrongdoing does not disqualify a person from advising against wrongdoing. It is not hypocrisy to say, “Do not do as I have done.” It is hypocrisy to see that some activity is objectively wrong and then not advise others against it. That is inconsistent. That is hypocritical.

Okay, on the one hand, yes. It is a logical fallacy, tu quoque, I believe, to say, "Well, you do it, too!" Good advice is good advice no matter who gives it. On the other hand, hypocrisy is a feigning to be what one is not or to believe what one does not; especially : the false assumption of an appearance of virtue or religion. It isn't hypocritical to see that something is wrong and not say anything, it's hypocritical to say something is wrong if you don't see anything wrong with you yourself doing it.

But that’s a long way off. In the meantime, you can prepare them for a better life. You can help them know what is right when they are still little girls. For most children, life is filled with beauty and God is real. You can confirm their impressions. Through stories and fairy tales, myths and legends, the works of the imagination that all children love, you can show them there is both danger and wonder ahead. The written word is indispensable. Faith and prayer are indispensable. Sex education starts in the imagination and the soul.

Does anyone read that as "lie, lie and lie some more"? Is that just me? Also, I'm fairly certain that is a good description of religious indoctrination, not sex ed. I can only imagine what some peoples' wedding nights are going to be like.

As they get older, you can talk to your daughters more and more about marriage and men. This is the job of mothers, not schools. They will trust what you say. If you tell them with conviction that love is much better when one is married, they will believe you. If you tell them with conviction, not once but many times, that many men do not respect a woman after they have had sex with her, unless they are married to her, they will believe you. If you tell them marriage and motherhood will be the best experiences of their lives, they will believe you. But, you can’t say it just a couple of times. The opposite message will be conveyed elsewhere.

The same could be said of the existence of unicorns. Or god.

When they are young women, you then can tell them all the brutal facts about the sexual revolution in an impersonal way, the truths that they may not hear elsewhere, such as that most women who have had abortions regret it and live in remorse for years and that abortion is objectively murder. You can point out all the cases of disease that lead to infertility and tell them the truth about single motherhood. You can tell them how unfair it is to raise children without a father.You can tell them about the women you know who have never had children and were lonely when they were old. You can tell them that adoption is often the best way with a pregnancy before marriage. They will believe you if you say these things often enough.

Oh, yes, those women living in regret. Except for the ones who don't. Also, you keep using that word, objectively. I don't think that word means what you think it means. You know, it's terribly dangerous to tell children things that aren't true. One day, they may discover that it isn't true, and then everything you ever said is in doubt.

Again, anyone has the authority to raise her children differently provided she has sincerely examined her own conscience. Parents not only possess the moral legitimacy to teach their children restraint, they have the absolute duty to do so. In fact, they may possess even more authority than parents in the past.

It is very unlikely if you do all this that your daughters will go wrong, but if they do, you should be prepared to detach yourself somewhat from them. That’s the hard part and that too is your duty. A mother’s disapproval is a powerful corrective.

It’s all worth it, don’t you think?

I do so enjoy advice from sociopaths. If your children fail to do what you want them to do, cut them off. That'll teach the little bastards.

Yes, what a wonderful website indeed!

*Cuz I can, that's why.

**I probably am. I'm probably putting it in my reader. I'm probably going to regret this.

pic link

Major Lulz from the Sheltered - Chapter 2

Miss Raquel has provided us with the second chapter of the gripping tale of The Slut and Her Punishment Life's Choices. (Chapter 1)

She didn’t even think about having dinner that evening. She felt so used, hurt, and sad that even the thought of food made her sick to her stomach. Or maybe she was beginning to have morning sickness?
Great. She thought to herself. She wouldn’t be able to hide that fact from her parents when it started getting worse. She had had the morning sickness feeling a few days ago. That was the reason that she went to see the doctor. Well, one of the reasons. She had missed her menstrual period the past two months or so and had begun to worry that something was wrong...now she knew what.

Leona, in case you've forgotten (really, Chapter 2 starts with "she"), is three months pregnant. Morning sickness starts well before the second trimester. In fact, generally speaking, most women find that morning sickness eases in the second trimester. (I know, that's not always true.) By this point, Leona should have been puking morning, noon and night for weeks on end. She should also be gaining weight, have tender breasts, be so tired she falls asleep standing up, crying over cheese commercials and, oh yes, missing her period.

Leona goes to the doctor not because she hasn't had a period in 2 months, but because she's been a little queasy. Seriously? Is Leona developmentally challenged in some way? Did immigrant mom drop her on her head? Has she been drunk for the past three months straight?

The next morning, while taking a cold shower, she tried to make a plan in her head. She could go to the abortion clinic today, get the abortion taken care of, and then act as if nothing ever happened. If her parents asked her again, why she had been so down yesterday, she’ll just tell them the truth and that it was all taken care of.

Yes, because abortion providers are like McDonalds. You don't have to make an appointment, meet with a doctor, be examined by said doctor, watch a state-mandated ultrasound, wait the state-mandated 24 hours (depending on what state you are in), you just walk to the corner (there's an abortionist on every corner), open the door and five minutes later, BAM!, no more fetus. Abortions are free, too, did you know that? In fact, liberals will pay you to have an abortion. That's why Leona doesn't have any concern as to cost. Also, on what planet would it be easier to tell your mother that you were pregnant and had an abortion rather than simply "i'm pregnant"?

After dabbing a little makeup on (her eyes were red and swollen from her good cry last night), she called a good-bye to her parents who were eating breakfast in the kitchen and headed out to her car. She turned the key into the ignition and pulled out into the street. She pushed the ‘radio ON’ button and switched through the channels. For some reason, she let the ‘seek’ button rest on a radio station that she had never listened to before.

“God has a plan for every person’s life,” the DJ was saying. “He knows what you’re going through and wants to be there with you; to help you through your hard times. But you have to let Him. He won’t help if you don’t fully surrender your life to Him and make Him the King of your heart.”

Leona’s brain was telling her to switch the channel and forget what that dumb DJ was saying about that God she had heard about before, but her heart seemed to will her to listen more.

Leona "dabbed on a little makeup" on her eyes that were still red and swollen from her "good cry" the night before? Do you have any idea the level of hysteria an 18 year old would have to reach to have eyes still swollen 8 hours after crying? A little makeup would not fix that. I doubt Raquel has ever used makeup before, not even lip gloss.

That "dumb DJ" talking about "that God" person she's heard about somewhere before! At this point, we're in a Chick Tract, in which people use obscenities that aren't and nearly pass out in surprise from hearing about that Jesus fellow.

"To everyone who is listening out there,” he continued. “I want you to know that God has a plan for your life. You may not know Him as your personal LORD and Savior, but He knows you. He knows everything about you. There’s nothing you can hide from God. Surrender your life to Him today.”
Just then, a commercial came on, talking about the Lewis County Pregnancy Center. They were offering counseling sessions and were inviting women to come for a ‘heart-to-heart talk’ with one of the Center’s counselors.
What could it hurt? Leona found herself thinking. She saw the Pregnancy Center just up ahead. She could stop in really quick and if she couldn’t find a solution to her problem, she could just head on over to the ‘clinic’.

Well, isn't that a coincidence! Leona's pregnant, on her to way to receive her complimentary abortion and pedicure, and while passing by the Misinformation and Manipulation Pregnancy Center, she hears an ad for the Pregnancy Center. Wow. Miss Raquel is to subtlety what Stephanie Meyers is to feminism.

Next we have Lukey and Sarah in the Pregnancy Center. I won't bore you with the incredibly pointless conversation, but notice how children and Christians are described in loving detail while we don't know the slightest detail of our heroine's appearance.

She pulled into the Center’s parking lot and climbed out of her car. When she reached the glass front door, she saw a child on the other side of the door looking out at her. It was an adorable little boy, with curly blonde hair and big hazel eyes. She smiled at him and when she reached the door, slowly pushed it open, so as not to hit him.

. . .

Sarah smiled again. Leona noticed that whenever she did, her whole face lit up with a beautiful shine. Her blonde hair and green eyes were beautiful too, and she looked so much like Luke that Leona guessed she was his older sister. She looked to be about sixteen; two years younger than Leona.

Oh, Leona! You're in a pregnancy center, yet you assume that the teenage girl could not possible be his mother? Abortion is no big deal to the average liberal, but teen mothers are so shocking as to be unthinkable. Yeah. And those Christians, with their shining beauty. If I convert right now do I get blonde hair, green eyes and a beautiful shine?

Amazingly, Leona can correctly identify the age of everyone she sees. It's a gift!

Leona was just about to ask her how you could ‘qualify’, when a door on the opposite side of the room opened and a young girl, who looked to be about thirteen, stepped out with an older, kind looking woman following close behind.

“I’ll see you next week, then, Melissa,” the older woman said to the thirteen-year-old.

You know damn well Miss Raquel only put that in to shock everyone with the- DUMDUMDUM - pregnant thirteen-year-old.

Then Leona meets the "counselor". (Keeping in mind that pregnancy centers are not generally staffed by trained mental health care professionals, but rather prolife zealots who have no ethical limits when it comes to keeping pregnant women pregnant.)

“Mrs. Black,” she started again. “Listen, I don’t even know what I’m doing here. To be honest, I was on my way to the abortion clinic and was flipping through the channels on my radio and came across that local Christian station. I heard your guys’ commercial and...I don’t even know why I stopped in. I mean, how can you guys help me? There’s nothing you can do to get a rid of this baby or...or make me go back to before I was pregnant.” Leona’s voice began to break and before she could prevent herself, the tears once more started to flow. She felt humiliated to be crying in front of a woman who was a total stranger. She covered her face with her hands and the sobs overtook her.
She felt a kind arm wrap around her shoulders and she peeked through her fingers to see Mrs. Black kneeling next to her chair.
“Can I give you a hug, Leona dear?”
This only brought forth a new burst of sobs from Leona and she couldn’t respond. But Mrs. Black seemed to get the message and soon Leona was enveloped in Mrs. Black’s kind arms. She felt safe - for the first time in months. She felt loved - by this woman who she met only a few minutes ago. The tears flowed freely, and Mrs. Black’s soothing voice slowly calmed her down. Over the noise of her own sobs, Leona heard only a few of the words that Mrs. Black was muttering, “Jesus, help Leona...Show her love.”. Leona slowly raised her head from her hands and was met with Mrs. Black’s kind smile.
“How about we try talking about this, okay sweetie?” Mrs. Black said encouragingly.
Leona only nodded and began her story.

Aw, she felt safe- for the first time since she started having sex. Because sex outside of marriage automatically makes one feel unsafe. In fairness, since Leona and Jerry clearly weren't using any form of protection (and I really doubt Miss Raquel even knows what I'm referring to), maybe she should have felt unsafe. I guarantee you Miss Raquel won't bring it up, but Leona needs to be tested for every STD, stat.

Betcha $20 that Chapter 3 is the big, dramatic conversion scene!