The Pain

A much anticipated play-date with the gang from the pole studio and after just a couple of minutes, an innocent tumble causes my neck to break down. Leaving me unable to move without having to endure extremely excruciating bolts of pain shooting through my entire backside. When that first, all too familiar sting of agonizing ache gives notice of its presence, I get chills. All the bones in my body freeze, but at the same time, I start sweating. A panic attack emerges from deep inside. Oh no, not again…

I’ve been seeing a physical therapist this year. She’s been a lot of help and I almost thought (almost), that my days of searing neck pains were over. How naïve of me.

It’s been ten days now, since the play-date that went wrong. Ten days and I am not feeling one bit better. In fact, I’m almost feeling worse. Once the first wave of pain had settled, a second one suddenly came shooting out of my right shoulder. A piercing, blade-like pain that had me horizontal for almost three days. And once that started to calm down, a third wave began to spread. This time, it’s the usual spot on the right side of my neck that is in complete lockdown. If I lay down, I can’t move. I have to keep absolutely still. Otherwise it cuts me like a knife. If I sit or stand, I can’t turn my head to either side. I have to stare straight ahead and not make any sudden movements. This basically has me walking around like a damn robot. And I am not amused.

I haven’t been able to work out for a week and a half. And tomorrow, I’m supposed to run a pole dance workshop for everyone at the office. I have already postponed it once and I refuse to let my neck get the best of me and do it again. So, I will drug myself. With all the pain killers I can find. And keep my fingers crossed that I won’t die from the pain.

This is probably one of the reasons why I, unlike my friends at the pole studio, hate the pain that some of the exercises, tricks, spins and stretches cause. The others embrace the pain and see it as proof of progress. For me, pain is horror. It’s fear and shame and turns my entire world upside down.

I have hurt enough.

There are no words for this awesomeness

The introduction for this year's Miss Pole Dance Australia:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ce7HgItK4Vs&playnext_from=TL&videos=XDRldtZlOXE&feature=rec-fresh%2Bdiv-r-12-HM

I've got chills. And tears in my eyes.

There is NOTHING about this performance that I don't love.

I know it's probably obvious by now, but holy shit how I love pole dancing!

Hair-do or hair-don't?

I have never been the kind of girl who has a full head of long, beautiful hair. My hair is thin and works best when it’s cut really short and just messed with. I did try though, a couple of times, to let my hair grow. When I was fourteen it was black and reached pretty far down on my back. But every single time that I have decided to let my hair grow, I have also decided to cut it off again, as soon as it got too long. Because I always realize that that kind of hair doesn’t fit me. And I don’t really like it. It’s too much work.

I have also never been a particularly feminine person. I’ve always loved video games, playing outside and getting dirty. Hanging out with my older brother was one of my favorite things as a child (and it still is from time to time). And my figure is not tiny and delicate.

As I got older and more aware of the state of things (here meaning the social construction of gender which takes place everywhere every day), it became more and more interesting for me to push and test the boundaries of being female. For a lot of people, both men and women, it is critical to portray classically stereotypical versions of femininity and masculinity. And that’s fine, as long as it’s what they really want AND they allow everyone else to break away from this if desired.

I always hated the color pink. It made me feel girlie and cute, which I hated. Until a couple of years ago my wardrobe consisted mostly of black clothes, which it in part still does, but lately I have been rediscovering the fun in color and being girlie sometimes. Nowadays, I love pink. It goes really well with all that black.

And the hair still continues to change. Like a mood ring surrounding my face. I guess I like the idea of not staying the same all the time. I have had every single hair color on the market. From pink and green to silver and white blond. It’s fun and it keeps people on their toes. Hairstyles have that same effect. People always notice when someone has changed their hair, especially if it is a dramatic change. Because it means they have to change the way they see that person.

About a month ago, I shaved my hair off. Not completely bald, I have a couple of millimeters left. A buzz cut. I had wanted to do that since high school, but never dared until now.

It’s a funny thing, having no hair. It makes a lot of everyday situations easier. Getting ready in the morning, going swimming, not having to color it, being outside when it’s raining. But it also means one major thing; I am now a woman without hair. In a lot of people’s eyes, those two things don’t go together at all.

I have always attracted curious by-passers with my crazy hairdo’s and colors, but when they look at me now, it’s not with eyes saying “Wow, she’s actually got green hair”, but with more of a difficulty to understand. I have no hair. For some reason that upsets people. Which in turn makes it very interesting for me to challenge their perception of what it is to be female and feminine.

I like being able to be both masculine and feminine in my looks, but being perceived as feminine without having any hair to work with is a fun challenge. Especially considering that, for a lot of people, femininity is in the hair. I’ll enjoy proving them wrong.

Långhelg snabbt

Torsdag. Tömma vinden på skit.

Fredag. Slappa hemma.

Lördag. Upp i ottan. Dra till sommarstugan. Tvätta och måla båt. Lägga i annan båt + flytbrygga. Hem till föräldrarna. Grilla, öla och softa.

Söndag. Lastbilshyrning med brors fru som chaufför. Kasta skiten från vinden. Bjucka brors familj på käk. Softa med råttorna.

Friend

It wasn't too long ago that she could barely count the names of all her friends. They were everywhere; at school, at parties, when she needed somebody to talk to, when she wanted to reminess about her childhood or just wanted to meet for coffee,

Maybe that is the very definition of friendship. Someone who is always there. No matter what.

She considered herself lucky.

Not in love, that was always her curse, but always lucky in friendship.

But then, the people from school showed their true faces. And the line was broken.

The people she had known since she was a kid stopped calling or stopped responding to her efforts.

As she fell in love with her soulmate, and for the first time in her life was lucky in love, her best friend disappeared from her life and with her, all the friends they had shared.

A handful of people, gone, just like that.

When they were all single, there was talk of the “lost friends”. People from the same group who had found love and “moved to Girlfriendville/Boyfriendville” and was never again to be heard from.

She was once one of those who hated this place. This social state of being that meant saying goodbye to your friends and giving everything for a person who was new in their life. How could they? How dared they?

But as the people she had always considered her friends started to disappear from her life, she realized the truth. It all happened when she met him. As if her happiness was too much for them to handle. As if she was only worth something as long as she was unhappy.

Love, in their opinion, meant that she was lost. Tied down. Not at all released, as she herself saw it.

And so they abandoned her.

She tried to keep the bond strong, but it was no use. They had already decided. Judge, jury and executioner.

But, she had love. And in that love she had friendship as well. He became her lover, her partner and her best friend. And she loved him with all of her heart.

But the word “friendship” lost all its' meaning. And the world never looked the same again.

New comic strip

If you can't change your life, change the channel

Thåström is so fucking good. I get chills every time I hear this song (and I'm listening to it quite a lot right now, since I'm choreographing a pole routine to it):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMVvHmBV_xs