Everything I hate about 50 Shades of Grey

So I read 50 Shades of Grey on the weekend. I finished it as much "in one sitting" as it is possible for a mother of two small children to pull off without endangering her kids. The first chapter is truly terribly written, but I kept on going because I hadn't reached the sex yet, but by the time I did I was too far in to extricate myself. It reached the point where I was reading as quickly as possible, just so I could mercifully reach the end.

It made me cross. Not just because of the writing, the heroine's constant "inner goddess" twaddle or the annoying lip biting, but because of the example this, the fastest selling paperback of all time, is setting to younger women. I was disturbed to learn that it is popular among "teenage girls and college women". Is this going to be the first literary erotic role modeling these girls have? Will it shape their views on how relationships are supposed to work? Will the popularity of this book mean the gents assume this is what all women want in real life? I'm terrified for them all.

First up, pedophilia. Never acceptable. Even if it is between a teenage son of a crack whore and his adopted mother's friend, and somehow "saved" him. What a crock. This is exactly the kind of crap pedophiles tell themselves to justify their actions, and having it defended repeatedly in this book (by the main, exceptional successful, character no less) is deplorable.

In a tale about BDSM the power imbalance is obviously going to be a key plot point, but the power imbalance here extends way outside the bedroom. When our two main players meet he is a billionaire company owner while she is a broke college girl. She requires his approval in order to complete a task for her overbearing room mate, least she endangers her cushy living conditions.

The power starts and remains completely in his hands. As the novel plays out he constantly reminds her by buying ludicrously expensive gifts that she feels uncomfortable accepting, probably because she realises he is not lavishing affection, but rather reinforcing his power. This is further underlined by him constantly knowing her location and home addresses. Even she calls it stalking.

But what can Anastasia do? She has brought herself up on a steady diet of historical British novels, where the heroine's first love is usually her one true love, and they then live out their happily ever after.

And, after all, Anastasia does think she is in love. With a man she has known for a week or two. That, ladies and gentlemen, is called hormones. Just hormones. How can she possibly love him in that time frame?

And if she hadn't run (after he beat her) when the heady mix of pheromones wears thin she would find herself firmly ensconced in a relationship with a man who gets off on her pain.  A man who is willing to boldly confront a virgin with a contract about sticking his fist up her bum, and then smack her with a belt a few days later. And she will be trapped there by her own upbringing - striving to "fix" him, looking for her happily ever after, and no doubt failing miserably.

It concerns me deeply that this kind of novel is being so widely read and lauded. Yes, it has sex scenes, but it is not sexy. There is nothing sexy about such an imbalanced, unhealthy relationship.

Shaped

Shapewear.  Ughh. I've succumbed to the ravages.

First up, here is an interesting link: Chuck Norris Jokes

Right, now all the lads are gone, let's crack on, shall we? After Peanut, my body bounced back. It might have been all the exercise. (She was too small to complain when I stuffed her in a stroller for hours at a time. Things have changed.) It might have been the smaller meals. (Mr A was away for 8 months, so I ate like a girl.) Or it might have been that after one child, your body still recalls what it used to look like. Whatever the reason, I rejoiced.

This time? Not so much. There was no bounce. More like a weighty flop. And after almost two years of looking at my abs beseechingly (for my abs beseechingly, more like) I've finally realised that, until a minor miracle occurs and my diet and exercise become supportive of my midsection, nothing is going to change.

Which of course, while true, is absolutely no help to me now. I have parties to attend, dammit! Frocks to rock!

So I purchased what Mr Accident kindly calls Vanity Pants. I justified it by finding a 1940s quote on the net, something along the lines of "If you find yourself needing supportive undergarments, then for the sake of humanity, just go and bloody buy some!" I may be paraphrasing. 

Shimmying into the underwear shop took some bravery. I'm not a fancy-knicker-buyer at the best of times, and these were not the best times. I found the shapewear section by aiming for the large wall of beige. From the descriptions on the labels, those pants could do anything. Whittle this, lift that... I was starting to think I was buying a handy western cowboy. Perhaps he could whittle me a saddle to sit atop my waistly saddle bags.

I figured the "light control" pants wouldn't cut it, and steered straight to the industrial strength. And I bypassed the little underpant shaped ones, honing in on a set that run bum to boob. In beige. With seams. SO sexy. I was hoping that, by having the end of the pants as far away from the fat as possible, the chub would just even itself out and I would avoid spillage.

No such luck. Somehow (in a way that totally defies my understanding) the roll of blubber from my tummy migrates to two small pouches under my arms. It's warm. It's soft. It's in the wrong place. It's confusing! But, it's still an improvement. 

I'm sold. My jeans look better, my fancy frocks skim instead of stick, and my only regret is I didn't buy another pair.

So, you lot. Do you wear shapewear? Do let me know, so we can admire our under-arm bulges together...

Tree Day

Australians don't tend to over-complicate nomenclature. "Oh look, it's a brown snake! What'll we call it? Brown snake? Well, that makes sense to me..." 

Brown snake
(image from here)

"So we've built this flash bridge. It's over the Sydney Harbour..."

The Sydney Harbour Bridge
(image from here)

And don't forget "red belly black snakes", "red back spiders" and "the Great Sandy Desert." Yup, we're just a regular font of imagination, down here. (This makes me feel better about Peanut naming her horse "Horse" and her fish "Fish". It's in her blood.)

So when our delightful northern cousins decided to have Arbour Day celebrations, I can just imagine the confusion that generated Down Under. "Arbour Day? What the flaming heck is THAT? Oh, planting trees? Yeah, we'll be in on that... but only if we can call it Tree Day."  And so it came to pass.

It's National Tree Day this week - Friday for schools, Sunday for the rest of us. 

Peanut and Bug helped me pick out our tree yesterday. We're going to plant it in the front yard, if it ever stops raining. I considered registering our site as an official location (you get a free Lorax mustache kit!) but I think I'd rather just keep it as a family tradition. Also, I can't be bothered - I've too much laundry to be posting letters. 

It will be nice to leave something behind on our street when we move on at the end of the year. Perhaps when we are passing through Canberra again one day we can drop in and visit it. 

There is still time for you to go out and grab a tree if you want to join in. Ours was only $15 - not much, really, for a lifetime of shade, beauty, and oxygen production. So go on, hug the earth - stick a tree in it. 

A How-to Guide to Becoming a Frugal Foodie

{Today we have a guest post from the team at Frugal Dad. Thanks for the info, guys!}

While the definition of "foodie" is somewhat debated, most can agree that a foodie simply loves the sensuous experience of food. Not just any food, however: food comprised of high quality ingredients and adventurous pairings. A foodie is curious about and appreciates a vast array of food options. By using cost conscious websites like CouponCravings.com for deals, coupons and savings advice you can improve the quality of your life and be -- yes -- a frugal foodie. Here, you’ll find tips on how to prepare and savor quality foods on a budget. 

DIY Foodie

You aren’t about to blow serious cash on your local gastro-pubs to find out what the new trends are popular in the world of foodies. While molecular gastronomy is a hit with foodies lately, these creations require serious investment. The frugal way to become a foodie is to bring your focus home. Think about the quality of your ingredients and price of the equipment you need. Try searching food blogs for ideas and inspiration. Alice Waters is widely held as the person who inspired the foodie movement in the U.S., a champion of recipes with simple, quality ingredients using only a pan, a slow cooker and a wooden spoon to make foodie magic.

Slow Cooking 

If you buy the less expensive cuts of meat at the grocery store, you can slow cook or braise it. If you work all day, you can put a pork shoulder in a slow cooker with a marinade (that can be as simple as a single bottle of root beer!), and when you get home, you have tender, juicy pork that will feed you for a week.

The Whole Chicken

You will also save money by buying unprocessed meats -- for example, opt for an entire chicken rather than just the drums or breasts. Not only can you use the meat, but you can use the bones as well. Bone broth is the most nutritious broth you can consume because marrow is packed with minerals essential for your own bone and joint health. Fancy that! Of course, “using the whole chicken” can be a metaphor for all of the food you use in your home. If you can find a way to use it, use it!

Shop Farmer’s Markets

Another aspect of foodie culture is enjoying locally grown, organic produce. This is because the food will be more appropriately ripened since the farmers know they will not have to transport their food long distances. Farmer’s market prices are cheaper than grocery stores since they do not have to pay corporate middle men, truckers, or anything of the sort to get their food to you.

So, now that you know it’s possible to be a frugal foodie, head to your local farmer’s market this week to smell the tomatoes!

All grown up

I spent hours this afternoon trawling through the Accidental photo archives. It's hard to believe how quickly the girls have grown. The dogs, too. And Mr Accident and I used to be so young! 

I don't normally notice the passage of time, but sometimes I just have a moment of clarity. I had one today, watching Peanut swim her first whole lap of the pool. 

She hopped out, dripping wet, and ran towards me grinning. 

And time slowed down. 

I realised that somehow over the past three years that I became a wife, and a mother, but I've been so busy being a wife and a mum I rarely stopped to actually noticed it. 

I've become a grown up. 

What a surprise!

It's your turn

I think it's time for a delurker post.

I love checking up on my blog stats. Not so much the numbers, encouraging as they are, but the locations! Fascinating.

I have plenty of Australian visitors, and a few from America, too. A couple from the UK (I think that's you, Gartcott!) and some from South Africa (Hi Stel!) But who else is here?

I'm turning this post over to you, my dear semi-regular reader, my adored occasional or never-before commenter. Come in! sit down! And write...

The "hen-d" of an era: bye bye birdies

Ethical question: is it ok to eat your own pets? Even if they are chickens? I'm firmly in the eating is ok camp. Mr A is not.

My position is based on the argument that, if you wouldn't eat our chickens, why would you eat any chickens? At least ours were ethically raised, free range and only occasionally chased by a crazy puppy. I hear puppy chasing is de riguer in those battery hen houses. And the puppy is a wolf.

Mr A's stance is that they are cute and fluffy and our pets. It's a pretty solid argument. It's certainly not worth upsetting marital harmony for the sake of two dinners, so Mr A won.

We're moving at the end of this year - Sydney, this time. I've been hitting up Google Earth and the real estate sites, and it's growing increasingly obvious that it's not going to be a chicken friendly location. Since Canberra has a dearth of anonymous chicken adoption drop locations, complete with friendly nuns and a strict chicken education system, I had to find an alternative. Luckily, a coincidental chat with another mum at play school led me to the perfect home. She was about to buy chooks that day!

I spent a delightful morning chasing the chooks around the back yard. It is surprisingly difficult to stuff two large chickens into a small mandarin box. Get one in - no worries. Get two in? IMPOSSIBLE. The dogs and the toddler were not helping. Stop opening the box, Bug! Stop chasing the hens under the trampoline, Panzer! Mien gott.

So, we're now henless.

Tomorrow's job is to reclaim the backyard. Scrape all the pine bark off the grass, take down the fences, scrub out the henhouse and turn it back into a kennel. And somehow recover the grass. Do you have any lawn tips? I could use them...