Category Archives: Joceline

by Joceline

So I’ve noticed something lately that annoys me more than it should.  Maybe it’s because young women my age are just at that grey area between being youthful college kids and responsible adults, but I sometimes see us putting on the “helpless little girl” act more than is necessary.  Sure, I partake in this charade when there’s a tire that needs changing, because I don’t really trust my own ability to effectively tighten lug nuts.  But it’s not just pretending to be helpless that bothers me–it’s the affectation of weird little quirks that some women think makes them so! Cute! And twee!

I blame Zooey Deschanel for this. I blame Zooey Deschanel for a lot of things.

Why does this annoy me so much?  Because a list of quirks does not a personality make.  Especially when they are, as I suspect, fake quirks.  See: hipsters.  Then combine hipsters with fifties housewives and you get, in list form, because I think in lists now (I read too many Cracked articles)–five ways grown-ass women act like delicate night-blooming flowers:

1) Pretending to hate the sound of the word “moist”.  I don’t know how this got started, but let’s clear it up now: there is nothing gross about the sound of “moist”.  Ditto for the word “panties”.  I once had a friend who pretended to be grossed out by the word “coupon”, and I say pretended, because let’s be real here: there isn’t anything gross about most sounds, except maybe HEEUURRGGHH splat splat splat splat (the sound of someone projectile vomiting after a Mexican food buffet).  People who squeal about how gross “moist” sounds are either overly fastidious, or pretending to be so for the sake of appearing delicate.

Things that are actually gross: infected butt wounds, maggots on rotting animals, the trough that serves as the men’s bathroom at the Foxfield Races, sliding through said trough for the money that people throw into it.

Swimming through hundreds of strangers’ urine? Now that’s moist.

2) Being afraid of non-scary things.  Similar to 1), pretending that you’re scared of something that is not remotely scary doesn’t make you a special snowflake.  Being afraid of things like babies, mushrooms, or other random non-threatening things is illogical, not quirky.  I can only imagine these people wait for something innocuous that everyone likes to come up in conversation just so they can be different and pipe up, “I’m scared of kittens!  They’re so…small!  And fluffy and generally immobile!  And unable to hurt me!”

Actually if you google “scary baby” this is what you get, and I’m not gonna lie, it’s moderately terrifying. So maybe if you have only seen babies that look like this, then yeah, you can be scared of them.

3) Being proud of being directionally challenged.  Getting lost happens, in spite of (or sometimes because of) smartphones.  In fact, once Siri sent me in an infinite loop in the middle of rural Virginia.  But incompetence is not something to brag about.  Small children get lost easily, and there is nothing attractive about adult women acting like small children.  It’s kind of like saying “I’m so bad at math!  Teehee, leave that hard stuff to the menfolk!”   

“And while he’s at it, my brother handles the GPS as well! Me woman too pretty for technology!”

4) Talking about how they’re always cold, like it’s cute.  My roommate actually is always cold.  You know what she did?  She got an electric blanket and didn’t whine.  She loves that thing, I think she would marry it if she could.  My point is, being perpetually cold when things like sweaters exist does not make you lovably fragile.  It just makes you unprepared.

5) I can’t think of another one, but maybe I’ll try to explain why this annoys me more articulately.  It’s kind of that “show, don’t tell” thing they teach you in high-school English.  Don’t tell me various facts about yourself like it’s going to show me what kind of person you are.  It’d be like someone walking around saying “I always give change to homeless people” instead of just living charitably.  If you have to proclaim your quirks to everyone, they’re probably not very real in the first place.  And if you’re pretending to be squeamish or dumb because you think it’s cute, please stop for the rest of our sakes.

by Joceline

1) A friendly car horn, for when the light has turned green but the driver in front isn’t paying attention. Maybe a soft “toot” or something.  Or a friendly “ding”, like, “Ding!  The light is green but you didn’t notice!  A mistake anyone could have made!”  I just hate feeling like I’m antagonizing someone, especially if they’re old.

2) An automatic flush that doesn’t think you’ve finished peeing because you’re actually hovering.  Is this just me? Maybe because you have to lean forward, out of the sensor’s range, when you hover?

I just don’t like being rushed by a bathroom appliance, you know?

On a semi-related note, I have never flushed a public toilet with my hand–I’ve always used my feet.  I know other people who do this too so don’t get mad!

3)  A way I could get eight glasses of water per day inside me without having to drink it.  (I know, it’s called an IV, but for everyday life).  Yes, I’m still talking about not drinking enough any water. I tend to feel guilty about around New Year’s resolution time, maybe because it’s something I literally cannot make myself do.  The lack of self-control rankles.

Speaking of not healthy, this happened a lot over the past month of vacation. I think fake cheese flavor is laced with crack or something.

4) A word for the feeling you get when you make out with someone in a dream, then run into them later that day.  My friend from undergrad calls it a dream hangover, which I like, but I wish there were some way to express that unique mix of embarrassment, lingering residual dream-intimacy, and embarrassment.

I have no ideas for a post for today, so instead, look at these hilarious prints by artist Aled Lewis made with toy animals and wit!  All photos from Aled Lewis.

Well, it’s officially pants season in Charlottesville, which brings with it the dubious pleasure of getting reacquainted with my thighs.  They aren’t a problem in the summer, what with shorts and skirts letting me forget their existence.  Also, one of the perks of working during the summer is having no bikini season. But Autumn comes, and brings with it the Return of the Thighs.

I’m joking, but I did want to write about something that I never, ever talk about (so naturally the logical thing is to share it on the internet).  Why?  Well, it’s vaguely embarrassing, and it makes me seem petty and insecure.  Like facebook stalking your ex.  Or even worse, your ex’s new girlfriend.  Everyone does it, but it’s not something you want to get caught doing.

I know–what the heck am I talking about, before you get too bored and go back to Facebook?

I’m talking about losing weight. Or rather, thinking about losing weight, or thinking about exercising, or estimating my calorie intake for the day before I get fro-yo (and no matter what the number is, I usually get the fro-yo anyway.  I said thinking about losing weight, after all).  I am not alone in this, either.  Almost 80% of college-age women in this study said they wanted to lose some weight, despite the fact that most of them were at a normal BMI.  I did a snap poll of my girlfriends, and almost every single one said that they’d like to lose a pound or two, or that they’d been on a diet once  or more in their life, or that they think about the calories in what they’re eating at least some, if not most, of the time.

Quickly! Estimate how calories are in this banana!  Most of my girlfriends can do this. If you’ve ever watched what you’re eating before, calorie counts just become something you carry around in your head, like Backstreet Boys lyrics.

But is it just me, or does no one talk about this??  It’s so counterintuitive, because we’re inundated with weight-loss/diet ads and skinny people every time we  get online, watch TV, or open a magazine–but in conversation, it doesn’t come up much.  I’ll be frank and say: I’d like to look the way I do with Spanx on.  Being 4’11″ means that my frame shows jiggle rather unforgivingly, especially after a weekend of indulgence or that sort of thing.  To stay the same (let alone lose), I count calories on my iPhone with a handy app (MyFitnessPal! I recommend it to my patients), I try to eat a balanced diet blah blah…and I woefully neglect exercising.   Oops.

But I’ll also tell you I never talk about my own efforts to lose weight with anyone.  As evidence, I’ve tried to write this post for at least three weeks, and it’s sat in the Drafts folder unfinished for that long.  Also, once a friend found the aforementioned MyFitnessPal app on my phone, and I felt as though he’d caught me with compromising photos.  If I’m like many women and would like to tone off a few pounds, why is admitting it so embarrassing?  I’ve thought about all the reasons I feel weird talking about it, and this is what I came up with:

1) It’s vain.

Yeah, it’s embarrassing to have people know that I’m preoccupied with my appearance.  Especially after posting about how Beauty is overrated and you can love everyone without taking their looks into account. Shouldn’t I be worrying about my mind/learning/morality/helping others/any of the myriad other things that are more important than what I look like?

Yes!  There are so many more important things.  But here’s my point: having some vanity doesn’t reduce me to just being a vain person.  Devoting some of my mental energy to my body doesn’t take away from those other thoughts–just because I watch what I eat doesn’t mean I can’t also think about deeper subjects.  A happy, well-adjusted, well-rounded person can have lofty thoughts of bettering their mind or society while also aiming for superficial goals. One of my favorite Walt Whitman quotes is, “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.”  I…don’t think he was talking about weight loss, but it applies here–I can believe that having a good personality trumps being beautiful, while continuing to use makeup/watch my weight/be a little vain, from time to time.  I can worry about what I eat and whether people can pay for healthcare at the same time–I’ve got plenty of neuroticism to spread around, don’t fret.

2) It sounds judgmental…of myself.  And accordingly, of others.

And if I’m already normal-sized and -shaped, and I’d like to lose some weight, what kind of message does that send to other people?  Am I judging them, too?  This is actually what I most fear while writing this post–that it’ll make you think I judge people who are overweight and think everyone should be striving to be unrealistically attractive.  Please don’t think that.  I don’t know how to explain, but I guess we always hold ourselves to much higher standards than we expect of others.  Also, we tend to be much less forgiving of our own flaws than of other people’s.

3) It smacks of poor body-image.

Before I started this post I talked to Emily A (the queen of having good body image) and asked her, “I want to post about losing weight, but how do I talk about it without making it sound like I’m completely unhappy with myself?”

It’s hard, because we’re at a time in our lives when we’re trying to broadcast confidence.  And admitting something like “I watch my weight” feels vulnerable.  It’s a little embarrassing to come out and say, yeah, there are some things I’d change about myself–because I’m worried that it’ll sound like I’m insecure or that I hate the way I look.  I’m usually spewing positivity and self-love, etc., but I think it’s okay to look in the mirror and want to change something.  It’s completely possible to love your body as it is, while still shooting for a goal. Like Emily said to me: it’s like having a six-year-old.  You think she’s amazing as is, but you still want what’s best for her; same thing when it comes to food, health, nutrition, weight.  You want her to be healthy and happy, and sometimes that involves pushing for a change, even though you can love her the whole time.

I spend a fair amount of time counseling patients about weight loss, so I have all these thoughts about it that would be good in completely unrelated posts–like how you develop disordered relationships with food, or forming bad eating habits.  Anyway, I’ve agonized over posting this for too many weeks, so I’m just going to wrap it up here and say: trying to lose weight shouldn’t be embarrassing!  If more people our age talked about it, maybe we all would feel less alone on those days where we have terrible body image.  Plus, all this maintenance is hard work, and we’re not doing each other any favors by pretending we nonchalantly look like this without trying.  Try!  And take pride in the trying.

I think I’ve mentioned this in a blog post before (but I’m too lazy to check so I’m just going to plagiarize from myself): I hate when I’m at the dentist and he/she says accusingly, “I can tell you don’t floss. Your gums are bleeding.” Yeah, obviously they’re bleeding, you’re jabbing a needle-sharp piece of metal into them.

But let’s be honest, I don’t really floss.  Or didn’t use to.  But now I do.  And maybe, by the end of this blog post, maybe you will too…

First, what you really need to do is spend a day shadowing in a dental clinic in an under-served area.  What, not really on your to-do list for this week?  Well, don’t worry, I did it for you on my Family Medicine rotation.  I’m going to go ahead and speak from a place of tremendous privilege and say–I’ve always had dental insurance.  I go twice a year to the dentist to get my gums prodded (and judged).  And even then, even then, they once found seven cavities at one visit. 

Side note: if your dentist ever pulls out a laser-sonar-magic wand thing, and says that it will detect cavities that “can’t yet be found on x-ray“, just know that she probably just bought herself a  new tooth toy and needs to pay for it.  Seven cavities later, she did.

Anyway, what I’m driving at is: I keep my teeth in generally good health, and I’ve never seen how bad they can get.  My only experience with cavities is the undetectable-on-x-ray ones that get filled with some white stuff that’s almost impossible to distinguish from my actual tooth.  So, when I saw patients whose teeth were bothering them so much that they finally went to the dentist, after years of never coming in…well.  Let me say, I started bringing a toothbrush to work.

This is actually a really tame one, you can search “tooth decay” on google images for more fun.  Or don’t.  Brush your teeth instead.

It’s not just the looks.  It’s the thought of horrible, throbbing pain as bacteria eat their way inside your teeth, into your gums and jawbone and bloodstream and arrghhhhh.  And also the drilling.  I thought feeling the drill vibrate through my entire skull was pretty bad, but watching it sink into someone’s teeth, spewing tooth dust and leaving horrible empty holes inside their molars, is almost worse. Or pulling teeth out!  They don’t pop out cleanly–you have to actually dig them out, with an array of tools like sharpened spoons and pliers, literal pliers.  And extracted molars look like deformed alien hands, with their roots all splayed out and bloodied.

After talking about poop and grilled cheese sandwich abscesses all the time, I never thought that teeth would be the thing to gross me out. But there you are.  Alien hands.

Anyway.  Onto flossing!  I decided to be really virtuous and get all that gunk out from between my teeth.  Maybe this is only news to me, as a non-flosser, but…holy halitosis.  Do you happen to be familiar with that particular smell, that I like to call “old-man-coffee-breath?”  Well.  I drink coffee.  And despite not being an old man, I was gripped with the sudden realization that the contents of my own mouth could have proudly held their own at a convention of geriatric mouth-breathers.  But really.  Does my breath actually smell like this?  Have people just been really polite all my life?  Did you know your mouth bacteria are mostly anaerobes, same as in your colon?  Isn’t that just lovely?  Do you have any gum?

And there you have it: how to motivate yourself to be a daily flosser.  Just floss once…and smell it. It won’t even be a chore anymore, it’ll be like public service, for your love life. It’s also oddly satisfying in a gross way, like picking a scab. Happy hygiene!