A Sumptuous and Silly Story

In the Land of Women

Once upon a time there was a village. This village was highly unusual because it consisted of only women. These women would call out each morning to her sisters, "COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO." The call would be passed from hut to hut and the sisters would gather at their special meeting place in the centre of the village and sing and dance around the fire as the sun rose, greeting the day, thanking the earth for everything they had. Then each woman would take her hot beverage and go meditate in whichever style they pleased; painting, yoga, walking, sitting, generating ideas and pondering the world, life's little (and not so little) mysteries. 

Their village was a beautiful piece of land with a river passing through it and forest all around. There were communal vegetable gardens interspersed all through the space. In this village there was a girl named Heather. Heather had long golden locks and walked about the village strumming original tunes about love and bicycles and cherry trees with big, bright red, waxy cherries.

There were many bake-offs in this village with big peach cobblers with real vanilla beans grown on Heath's porch, or apple pies made with cheese from the goats that roamed the village. 

It was a peaceful place.

To Be Continued...

The Hard Stuff- Brandon

I liked the way you called me girl, you were the first one to talk to me at my new job, I was so nervous about being new on the road and it felt nice to be talked to. I was really attracted to you. You're lips were amazing to kiss, so cushy and yummy.

I had fun playing scrabble with you and your friend. We laughed a lot and I made tea.

Making love with you was intense. You were kind of aggressive and I wasn't sure how I felt about it, but I was turned on so I went with it. At one point I cried because the aggressiveness was quite emotional for me. You didn't know how to deal with it and you left to go to the bathroom. We stayed up almost all night fucking and then slept intertwined.

The next day I ran into a friend and she asked me why my face was shining so brightly. I told her about you and how much I thought we had connected. I was really stoked. I thought you're text messages where you were worried about the cats getting out were very sweet and it was even sweeter that you went back to make sure they were comfortable. 

Little did I know you were taking $900 out of my drawer. Did you take right away before you left my house or were you not able to resist the second time you went back?? Did you feel guilty? Do you ever think about me? Do you know how much it hurt me? I cried all night. I couldn't breathe when I realized what you had done, I just froze. 

It was hard for me to trust people for a while. I felt very alone, because I'm pretty new to Toronto and now I was questioning who could I really feel safe with? Who could I invite over to my house? I didn't have many people over for a while.

It's not the amount of money that hurts so much. Money is just paper. You hurt my feelings really, really bad. I've felt so sad, so frustrated and angry, cried so much. I've thought about hurting you many times, but I don't think that would make me feel better. I guess I just need time and deep breaths. At the end of the day, I just feel sorry for you.

By: Anonymous

Who's your favourite female artist?

I choose Joan Biaz for her full vibratos. Any Suggestions?

How to design a city for women

http://www.theatlanticcities.com/commute/2013/09/how-design-city-women/6739/

Contributed by: Whitney French

The bargain of being a woman

http://www.shakesville.com/2009/08/terrible-bargain-we-have-regretfully.html

Contributed by: Hayley Easto

Trigger Warning

Before you visit this website please note the contents in the URL.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/regajha/27-survivors-of-sexual-assault-quoting-the-people-who-attack

Contributed by: Whitney French

Today's Woman

A Dept store Sweden introduced these normal-size mannequins. Instead of size 00, these gals are a size 12 and 16. Some are saying they "condone obesity." Pfft, the average woman is a size 14. "LIKE" and "SHARE" this picture if you think mannequins should look like this in store.

Contributed by: Steph Galas

The Sandy Vagina

By: Danielle Douglas

Miles from Nowhere: another book review about a bicycle adventure :)

Miles from Nowhere, By: Barbara Savage

I have just completed reading the delightful tale of Barbara and Larry, written from Barbara's perspective, of their 2 year and 23,000 mile trek on bicycle around the world. What an incredible tale of adventure. I really felt like I was travelling right along with them and we visited places I've never been and reminisced in travels past.

I came across this book through the previous book I read: http://softpinkpetals.blogspot.com/2013/08/where-pavement-ends-book-report.html
which got the Barbara Savage award and is on "The Mountaineers" list of good reads. After these two books I think I'm onto something and will be having a go at a few other books on this list.

While reading Miles, set from 1979 to 1980, I was thinking I would love to be in touch with the writer, Barbara, to tell her how much I enjoyed her book. Unfortunately on the last page it is revealed that she passed in a bike accident around 3 years after completing her journey. How sad I am for her late husband, whom she sounds very much in love with through her writing.

I am so amazed at the possibility that bicycles offer. A way of seeing the world with minimal fossil fuels wasted and a small eco-footprint. And just the sheer strength of the bicycle. They had many mechanical difficulties of course, but none which they could not fix themselves and were not able to overcome. It is a truly magnificent machine and I am continuing to fall in love with them more every day.

By: Rose

The Kitchen

I met him in a Kitchen. I thought he was younger than me, a boy. He's definitely a boy, and I'm definitely ageist.

Part of his charm is that he's American. But he apologizes more than most Canadians I know. Really it's that he grew up on a farm, in a house, or in a field of some sort.

He has deliberate hands that explored my body as soon as possible. He likes my energy.

I told him I wanted my physical interactions with people to mirror my emotional connections with them. What I say I want and what I do are separate entities.

My skin cells said let's try this. We hung out and had sex. It was fun, funny, positive. Kissing him feels real enough. I don't really mind what it meeeeaaaans. But it might get to that point if he doesn't have a solid apology for not texting me back right now. Cellphones. Dignity. He licked my clitoris and I gently squeezed his face with the inside of my legs.

There's also maybe a fertilized egg inside of me. I was ovulating and my vagina swallowed the condom. Or his penis wiggled out of it. My hungry vagina. Wiener. Either way. I feel like I'm pregnant, probably. Which is of course quite terrifying. It's the first time I've ever believed it could have happened.

I kind of expected this of myself subliminally? Now I might have to get an abortion and then I imagine I will not be able to have my own children later. Or I could go live with my mom and have a beautiful child. These are my options.

On the toilet I ask my body, nicely, politely, to please bleed. I'd just like to see slimy arches of red transfiguring in the water in the white bowl, if you kindly could bleed. Splotch my favorite pants in the morning. I'd be relived, thanks. Menstruate fuck.

For some reason I always capitalize Kitchen. Like it's a place.

I would tell him if I am pregnant. Maybe he would never complain about condoms again. It would be nice if in Sexual Education the dinks had to wear a fake belly, a beleivable wig, maybe some classy lipstick. At least for a day. It wouldn't be enough, but it makes me feel better.

Hmm.

Past lovers, old friends

You float in the back of my mind

From time to time

And I don't like it

I wish you would go away

Be in front of me,

when you're in front of me

And out of my mind,

when you're not

But maybe I'm giving you too much credit

I always tried to reframe the images

Of people in my mind

My past lovers

Old friend

To see what they represented

It's because you're unsolved

But their is no solution

I may or may not understand you

And you, I

But it doesn't really matter

And so, I'd like to let you go

Thank you for your visit

Into my world,

And I wish you adieu.

Love,
Rose