Sexuality Happens

This is day 19 in my “30 Days of Letters” endeavor. It is supposed to be written to someone who “pesters my mind,” either in a good way or a bad way. I assume they don’t mean music that gets stuck in it.

Dear Conservative Right Wing of America (and the Tea Party) -

I don’t understand how you can be filled with so much vile hatred. For as much as you rant against individuals like me (queer folk, Jewish people, agonostic people, people with disabilities, sex educators, pornographers), as well as other minorities (immigrants, people of color, those in lower socio economic classes, those with different religious beliefs, etc), I don’t hate you. You spend your days trying to convince the world that people like me and those I care about are less than, are unworthy, are below you, and yet I don’t hate you. I think about you often, how you try to control me, to ruin my life and the lives of others, and yet, I don’t hate you.

So how can you, those people that cause so much pain and anger, those that are on top of this political dog pile, on top of the economy here when my partner and I are living paycheck to paycheck (with two Master’s degrees), be filled with so much hate, when I am not? I fight every day of my life to be validate and recognized, and yet that hatred doesn’t come naturally to me, and yet it seems to come so easily to you.

It boggles my mind.

-Essin’ Em

Hey all!

Later this week I’ll be headed first to Salem, OR to teach at Enigma, and then I’m off to San Francisco to have some fun and present at Folsom Street Fair over the weekend. Next Monday and Tuesday, at Good Vibrations, I’ll be doing not one but TWO awesome classes! Seats do fill up, so I encourage you to pre-register if you can. I really hope to see a lot of you there!

Both of these workshops will be held at the Polk St. store.

Good Vibrations
1620 Polk Street (at Sacramento Street)
San Francisco, CA 94109
(415) 345-0400
Map & directions

Vaginal Fisting for One and All (NEW)
Monday, September 27, 6-8 pm
$25 in advance, $30 at the door
Fisting is one of those words that makes people say “ooooh!” Sometimes, it’s an “I’m so excited about that” way, and other times it’s more of a “you want me to put WHAT in my WHERE?” response. If you’re curious about fisting, come learn from an expert. Shanna Katz will explain vaginal fisting is (and what it isn’t), how to introduce it into your relationships, what you need to think about in regards to safety, why lube is so important and more. Everyone can use a helping hand when it comes to fisting, so come one, come all, and really get to understand the amazing ins and outs of vaginal fisting.

To register for this workshop, please visit http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/112656

Right Foot Red, Left Hand Lube: Sex Positions for Everyone (NEW)
Tuesday, September 28, 6-8 pm
$25 in advance, $30 at the door
Forget the Kama Sutra and Tantra. Leave your sex swing at home. Shanna Katz is here to tell you all about sex positions that anyone can do; no fancy hardware or spiritual revelations needed. We’ll talk about everything from Missionary to Froggy Style, Reverse Cowgirl to the Sneaky Vampire. Want a threesome? Got positions for that. Have arthritis? We’ve got positions for that. Ready to integrate sex toys into the bedroom (or shower, or car)? Check. Bring your favorite position in mind, and be ready to try out new positions (with clothes on) as we sex-plore our way through the endless types of positions available to us. Open to singles, couples and more-somes, and people of all gender and orientations.

To register for this workshop, please visit http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/112676

I just found out from my doctor (a voicemail, no less) that my thyroid? Which the blood work came back negative on, but felt enlarged, so he ordered lots of test? Well, it’s covered in lots (aka “dozens”) of cysts. Apparently, no nodules, which the message said was good, but lots of cysts. Which may or may not be benign. I have to call an ENT on Monday and try to get in for biopsy.

Sometimes, I feel like I’m cursed. Like I did something, as some point in my life, to set me up for all of these health issues. So far, just this year, I’ve dealt with my usual knee pain, arthritis, bursitis in my hips, allergies, migraines, and chronic pain. Fine. But I’ve had to add on a rapid weight gain (30 lbs in 6 weeks) all in my stomach for not apparently reason (no change in diet or exercise), a blown up knee filled with fluid, a 5-day-long almost unstoppable migraine, a cervical cancer scare, and now this.

I’d just like to go six months, SIX MONTHS for mooses sake, without any NEW health issues. Not no health issues at all, just no new ones. I can’t afford it, they are completely depressing, and I have no idea why or how to make them better. I’ve tried Western med, herbal remedies, acupuncture, massage (which does help migraines but is super expensive), reflexology, cranial sacral therapy, etc. My next thing to try is reiki  and energy work, if I can find an affordable practitioner. Nothing seems to help, and these issues just seem to keep coming at me. I don’t know what to do.

End of mini rant. You were warned, by the title.

-Essin’ Em

This is part of my 30 Days of Letters endevor. This is supposed to be a letter to your dreams.  I didn’t know if they meant like dreams you have at night (which I have been having some freaking crazy ones as of late), or dreams like your hopes and goals. I decided to go with the latter.

Dear Dreams…

It’s so interesting how you’ve changed over time. When I was five, I wanted nothing more in the world to be an archaeologist, like Indiana Jones. Then, it was a vet. When I got to high school, I decided I wanted to be a counselor for gifted children, and went into college expecting to do so. Somewhere in there, I discovered sex ed, and dreamed of working for Planned Parenthood, which brought me to grad school. From there, I fell into the world Feminist Porn and Porn for Women, and then into the world of sex toys. I wanted to be a feminist pornographer/sex toy shop owner with a studio/dungeon in the basement.

And now? I’m not sure. I am a sex educator, I am a feminist pornographer, I am a blogger, I am a writer, I am a reviewer, I am a marketer. I’m not sure what direction the tide will take me next; things are always changing in life, and it seems even more so in the sexuality field.

I had dreams of living in Europe…not likely with my three cats and partner now (although a long term visit may be in order). I had dreams of owning a house, which I almost did back in Philly. Now $15,000 of medical debt is going to push that one to the back burner for a while.

I have dreams of being able to easily walk up stairs, and maybe go for a jog. A realistic dream in the long run perhaps, but very expensive and time consuming and difficult to find a doctor who will do knee replacements on someone this young. This dream seems like a more long term one.

So for now, as I look at it, my dreams are:

*Getting out of the epic amount of debt Q and I share

*Moving back to Colorado by May 2011

*Celebrating our love with a wedding in October 2011

*Speaking at more colleges and universities (long term – be as cool as Tristan and Ducky and Nina Hartley and Midori and Megan Andelloux and the rest of the heavy hitters of sex ed)

*Traveling with Q to Europe – she’s never been, and I miss it badly

*Eventually owning our own home (10 years?)

*In the next 10 years, owning a Hybrid

*Add more states to my “I’ve been there!” list

*Try more cupcakeries and vegetarian restuarants across the US

*Figure out what to do about further education. I always thought that I’d want a PhD, need a PhD, have no other plan than to finally get my doctorate. Now I’m not sure.

*Meet many more amazing people, both online and in real life

*Live an outstanding, crazy and fulfilling life with Q and our kitties

*Enact change and fight for social justice and equality.

Dreams, I will try my best to reach for you, and honor you, but I don’t want to be so specific anymore. I want more of a concept and less of the exact science. I want to dream big, and aim in many directions. Thank you dreams, for being there, for changing with me, for helping me grown.

-Essin’ Em

I’m back. I’m alive, but barely. It was an emotional roller coaster of a trip. For those of you that follow me on Twitter or Facebook, thank you for putting up with the drama.  

Above is a picture I took from my hotel room’s balcony of the beautiful beach. I spent all of 1.5-2 hours on it over 5 days.

Highlights of what happened:

*My aunt’s partner is ok. She’s recovering from the double mastectomy and reconstruction. My aunt is not a naturally good caretaker, so a lot of that fell to us as far as getting pudding cups for her to eat, encouraging icing, keeping my aunt from leaving her drugged up partner alone to go to dinner with us, etc.

*My grandfather does know I’m a “lesbian.” I think my aunt blames myself, and the Amelia Erhardt barbie she gave me when I was little. Despite him knowing about this, I’ve been discourage from both my aunt and my grandfather from talking about Q. Needless to say, he will not be coming to the wedding.

*My sister and mother clearly dislike me. At one point, my sister directly told me that my presence makes her life miserable.  10 minutes later, she asked for advice on shoes. They have so normalized their dislike of me that it no longer interrupts their flow when they tell me such things.

*I had amazing food on the trip. Seasons 52 (a restaurant) is AMAZING, as was the Bruschetta with Goat Cheese Creme Brulee I got at O’Gradys in Delray Beach.

*My grandfathers partner/common law wife is mentally and emotionally abusive. To the point where he is scared to go home, but more scared to be late getting home. I don’t know what I can do about this.

*I don’t think my family recognizes my disability, particularly as far as needing to take my meds regularly, and with food.

*I did find two nice cardigans for cheap at TJMaxxx, and bought my sister an outrageously expensive purse for her birthday.

*I finished all 700 pages of the Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes, Volume 2.

*I only cried 3 times in 5 days.

*I experienced a horrible case of disability discrimination from a Southwest Airlines gate attendant.  They’ve always been very disability aware, and I filed a complaint. I’m interested to see their response.

*I will not see my family (mother/sister) again until either January or next summer, and my aunt/her partner/my grandfather until next summer.  Will there be phone/email fights? Yes. But will I feel like I’m the worst person in the world for being myself? Not again until January or the summer.

That’s all. Happy to be home with Q and the kitties.

-Essin’ Em

When I got into Phoenix after my trip to Denver, I could not walk on my own accord, and had to rock the airport wheelchair not only to the baggage claim, but even to my car. When I woke up on Sunday morning at the hotel, my left knee was literally the size of a melon; a cantaloupe to be more specific. I couldn’t bend it.

Luckily, at Thunder was a friend who happened to be a nurse. I bought some vet wrap for a non-kinky purpose; I used it for compression. When I got “home” to Phoenix, we had a quick bit to eat, and then headed to a local ER. The one my friend recommended was more than 35 minutes away, so we chose one in a hoity-toity area near us, assuming that because the area was rick, they’d be able to hired decent staff.

Boy, was I wrong.  Not only did they not have anyone on staff to help me with a wheel chair, but once I waited the few requisite hours to make it to triage, the nurse there not only had no idea what synvisc (my injections) were, but couldn’t seem to figure out how to put my sulfa drug allergy in my chart. Sulfa drug allergies are incredibly common, yet she had no clue, and finally gave up, just writing it on my allergy bracelet. It got worse from there. 

We were put in a room with no pillows (forget my neck — I wanted to elevate my leg), no ice pack, and no way to press a button or get ahold of a nurse. Once the nurse finally came in, he rattled off a list of things it could be, and possible solutions. Not so with the doctor — he gave me more percocet (despite the fact that I told him I already was ON narcotics to handle the pain), and said that if I didn’t have a blood clot (which I didn’t), then it wasn’t an emergency, and it didn’t matter. No offer to drain my knee, or deal with the fact my foot was as large as my calf.  In fact, when I pointed out I thought my allergic reaction to the red in my tattoo might be infected, he told me “no, that’s just the ink spreading out.” I had circles of reddish-purple irritation ONLY around the red leaves, yet his brilliant answer was that the ink was spreading out. Right.

Finally, after the ultra sounds (negative for blood clots), and waiting for another 3 hours with no nurse checking on me (no one ever asked me my pain level — every ER I’ve been to has always asked CONSTANTLY where I’d am with pain), and Q having to ask not once, not twice, but three times just to get a pillow for my knee, I was sent home. I asked the doctor if he’d be willing to drain my knee, or put some sort of anti inflammatory in it, but he looked me in the eye and told me it wouldn’t help. He told me doctor’s don’t like to touch other doctor’s patients. I pointed out my doctor wasn’t in state, so he told me to find a surgeon here, but I’d have a hard time.  I explained back to him what he just said, and asked him to drain my knee, PLEASE. I reminded him that it took forever to get into an ortho as a new patient. He told me later on that he talked to an ortho in the ER, and he had promised to get me in his office in the next few days, and that he was “obligated” by the referral to see me.

I found out the next day when I called that he was under absolutely no obligation to see me, at any point, and that his next “new patient” appointment was more than two weeks away, and that ER doctors (at this ER) lie to their patients about this all the time.

I caused a stink. I explained that this wasn’t just random knee pain, but that I couldn’t even bend my knee enough to sit down on the toilet, that I couldn’t function at all. I called my ortho in Denver; mooses bless him. He was in surgery, but his PA called me back right away, and he texted her from outside the OR with his suggestions (draining/aspirating the knee, and injecting it with cortisone to alliviate the swelling). The PA had the ortho tech call SynVisc to see if this was a common reaction, and they called me back to let me know it was unusual (especially in one knee) but not unheard of. And finally, I snuck in on Tuesday to the Ortho in AZ.

What did he do? He looked at it for about 15 seconds, told me the only thing for immediate relief was to drain it right away, and inject it with cortisone. Surprise. When he drained it, he literally drained almost a full cup of fluid from it.  You know those cups you have to pee in? Full of fluid of grossness from my knee.

Suddenly, I could actually bend my knee. It still hurt, and I still needed the cane, but I could actually put a slight amount of pressure on it without it giving out on me. 

I was so angry at that ER doctor. And then I found out that I knew someone who’d gone to the same ER; he had a blood clot, and they sent him home because it was a “small one.” Two days later, he had an embolism in his lungs. So I guess that not having a cup of fluid drained from my leg isn’t that big of a deal, because it couldn’t have killed me.

But this whole experience made me question how Q viewed me, whether she’d given up, whether she’d finally realized how difficult it was going to be living and dealing with someone like me.  But that’s a whole new post.

-Essin’ Em

As most of you know, I have epic epic epic knee problems.

Friday, I got a new version of SynVisc (synthetic viscosupplementation) injected in my knees. It didn’t really work 2 years ago, but was worth a try since it was covered. The difference? Two years ago, it was 2ccs per knee, one time a week, for three weeks. Now it was 6ccs per knee, all at once.

As usually the numbing needle and draining needle hurt worse than the insertion needle. Q, who hates doctors, was a trooper and held my hand. I have been using a cane since then, and taking it easy; not walking much, not lifting ANYTHING, etc.

Yet somehow, while my right knee is stiff, yet ok, my left knee is now completely unbendable, bigger than a cantelope (literally- I will take pics) and can support no weight at all. Spending my last day at Thunder looking for a kinky nurse/doctor/EMT. Flying this afternoon will be interesting.

-Essin’ Em

So sometimes, things supposed to “help” my knees just make them worse. And then what do you do?

-Essin’ Em

As I try to live a healthier lifestyle (even before this wedding necessitated weight loss), I’ve been working out my arms. I can’t do much cardio with my knees and hips (just swimming, and our pool is broken, and a recumbent bike, which I don’t have access to), so working out my upper body and stretching out everyday is the best that I can do for now.

Q has noticed the increase in my muscle tone, especially when we’re fucking, so at the very least, there  is that. I like working on my arms too, because I don’t have to get dressed all fancy in work out gear; I often just sit or stand naked in the living room and use our dumbells.

I need to get some heavier once, and resistance bands too, as I continue to my goal of getting as in shape as I can without a pool or recumbent bike. I may be a fat and disabled, but I will be fit, fat and disabled, so there.

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday to you all!

-Essin’ Em

I love love love massages. Not just for the relaxation, but massage is one of the few things I’ve found (aside from my epic amounts of seizure medication) that can significantly impact my migraines. I try to get one a month. Expensive? Yes, but it really helps cut down my migraines from 2-3 a week to 4-5 a month, which really really helps. I wish I could get them more, but they are too pricey.

Sometimes, Q will rub my shoulders and neck. She has strong hands, but I really need deep tissue massage to make a difference, and that takes a lot of oomph that is hard to get after a full day at work.

The Jimmy Jane massage stone has revolutionized my health. Really.

Why? It’s very easy to use/hold (it’s actually super disability friendly, as you don’t need to grab onto it tightly — you can just rest your hands on it and push it around…great for days I’m having nerve pain in my hands), so you don’t need to grip tightly, or even really exert that much energy to use it. It feels ok on just the plain skin, but add a little lotions (or oil from a massage candle), and suddenly, it’s almost like a professional level massage in bed, or on the couch, or wheverever you’re doing it.

I didn’t expect to love it, really. I thought it would be like the multitude of massagers I’ve tried that didn’t do diddly squat, and ended up in the graveyard of unwanted toys. I mean, it doesn’t even vibrate, so why would it do anything for me?

I don’t know, but it is AWESOME. Really. Q loves it too, both using it and having me use it on her back.  The coolness of it is super refreshing here in Arizona, but I also really likes how it warms up to the body.

I wish I had cons. You all know I always try to put cons in a review.  But I mean, the packaging was nice (and reusable to store it), the massager did the job it was supposed to, and did it far better than I could have imagined, it’s easy to clean (soap and warm water, or you can boil it/dishwash it as well). I just can’t find anything less than stellar to say about this piece of ceramic.

Oh! Maybe if it came in black, you know, to match everything else. There you go.

Five glowing stars for this toy/massager/thing of awesome. The end. Thanks Babeland!

Click here to choose one ofthe Jimmy Jane massage stones in various shapes!

-Essin’ Em

Sadly, my quest to queer (and plus-size-ify) Say Yes to the Dress has ended, and I’ve refunded the donations I’ve gotten (unless I was told to keep them for other purposes, like Sexually Able).

Why?

Well, originally, I told them I had a $1000 budget (twice what I was expecting to pay, but worth it to be on there for my own marketing). They told me I need $1500-$2000 to shop in Kleinfeld’s, the shop featured on the show. I was going to give up, but you, dear readers and twitter followers, encouraged me to go on it, and started donating money to make it feasible.

I was excited. Q was going to come with me, my best friend was going to fly out from Denver, I was set. I even had my little sister scan pictures of my mother and father’s wedding from 1969 (my mother wore a peacock blue dress, and the producers wanted pictures).

Then last Monday, I was told that apparently, Kleinfeld’s “can’t” do a red plus size dress for less than $3500. Never mind than apparently almost any white dress is dyable to red…they just couldn’t do it for such a “low” budget, and they wouldn’t book me an appointment.

And so, I gave up. Why? Because my own ethics won’t allow me to spend a huge amount of money on a wedding dress for ONE DAY, and I’m certainly not going to ask other people to help me pay for that. I’m sure I can find, or even have a custom dress made for under $1000. I’ve found ones I like online for $500, but I really do want to try in on, obviously.

So thank you, for your support. I will say that the producer I worked with on the show (Katy) was nothing but nice, understanding, and open-minded.  She seemed super excited in the first place, and very disappointed at the budget levels from Kleinfeld’s.  I just wish they’d either be willing to subsidize dresses, or perhaps also have a “budget” location for filming.

Thanks again for all your help, tweeting, support and more. It’s been more than appreciated.

-Essin’ Em