Well, fooey

I forget where I am in documenting the Amazing Adriamycin Adventure, but in reality that part of the cancer treatment is about over. I have had the last infusion of Adriamycin-Cytoxin, last Tuesday, and now I have a three-week break before I start the taxol infusions. I'm grateful. Of course.

My latest complaint though is that chemo has robbed me of my greatest culinary consolation--garlic! As of today, suddenly--I can almost pinpoint the hour--garlic tastes terrible and has an awful pervasive aftertaste. So much so that I had to triple-wash my hands and soak my nighttime mouth guard in mouthwash. And guess what I innocently did this morning before I knew? I cooked! I cooked lentil soup with lots of garlic, brussels sprouts with garlicky tomato sauce, and I made a garlicky onion dip for a treat with some potato-veggie chips that have always been a favorite of mine because they are so garlicky, K's pizza almost made me cry, because it was so nasty.

Well, things change, Hopefully I'll get garlic back when this is all over. Meanwhile I have developed a taste for fruit and milk products, with or without cereals, and delicate vegetable purees. In other words, I eat like a baby.

My fingers still smell like garlic...

Something I keep seeing

One of the things I can't square with my experience is the "feminist sex problem." The one where feminists of my generation were suppoosed to have turned their backs on sex, to have equated seuality with patriarchal oppression--where we were supposed to have abandoned our sexual bodies and turned our backs on anything flirtatious and fun.

Because we all cut off our hair and threw away our underwear and wore nothing but generic "masculine" clothes, don't you know, and we were just horrified at the idea of rambling around in bed. Yes.

I see this coming from people I would think would know better than to spread such nonsense. People who I think generally have good ideas. But they weren't there then, so they are free to make up history as it suits their current prejudices, I guess.

This is not how I experienced those years. I was (and am) a fairly plain-dressing person, fond of jeans and loose shirts, and not fond of silky undies (to mke they are sweaty and cut into my skin, not sexy feelings). But for me, these clothing choices were always highly sensual, and the little decorations that I did wear (remember the lace-trimmed henley tee? the embroidered chambray shirt?) seemed sexy to me. And to the nice fellow, oddly enough. As for hair--I kept mine long, mostly, but it was a pretty fancy deal the couple times I had it short. Either way, my hair was simple, but it was part of the sexual body I had. My choice: not to repel the patriarchy, but to be comfy in my body and therefore freely sexual. In my terms.

There are a lot of nuances to sex and sexuality, and really truly telling people that the young women of forty years ago were anti-sex if they weren't into whatever body presentation you have currently decided is the accepted sex-positive one is not helpful in any way: not helpful to anybody's feminism, and not helpful to anybody's sexuality.