Whoreticulture: The industry and science of whores and whore-related topics. Whoreticulturists work and conduct research in the disciplines of OB-GYNery, Brazilian waxers and shavers, adultery, personal hygiene mavens and easy women. The word is composite, from two words, whore, from Greek meaning "harlot" or "dear", and the word "culture". Like NPR's Science Friday, Whoreticulture Friday exists to educate and spark discussion on the science of Whorology. Whoreticulture Friday is not for children. Or squeamish people. Or Mother-In-Laws.
Today's topic: When Mommy IS the whore.
So the other day I'm in the kitchen with Oldest Daughter and Current Husband, and we were talking about her ER visit. More specifically, we were talking about how I blogged about it. CH asked OD how she felt about my making her issues public, and she and I explained to him that she read the blog before it was posted.
CH: "So do you read Mom's blog very often?"
ME: "Uh, NEVER. You are NEVER to read the blog."
OD: "I don't, but why would it matter? I read the stuff about me anyway, DON'T I?"
OD and I appraise each other with hard stares. She thinks I'm writing about her and not telling her. I think she's reading the blog and not telling me. A moment of uncomfortable ovarian distrust ensues. I break the silence.
ME: "Of course you do. I'm just saying that there is some adult content on there, and I don't think it's appropriate for you. Something you read might make your pupils burn out."
OD: (makes choking noise.) "Uh, I think my pupils burned out when...(she looks at Me and CH)...uh, never mind."
OD: "I can't say it with HIM in here!"
OD leaves the room, laughing.
CH: "What was THAT? I get no respect around here."
ME: "I have no idea, Rodney Dangerfield. But I'm guessing it has something to do with her period."
CH and I both take a moment to contemplate the 27 years it's been since we were her age. Ouch. We really don't get it. We both sort of shrug our shoulders and go back to whatever we were doing. Before long, OD comes back into the kitchen, glances at CH, and hands me a note:
"I was going to say that my pupils have already been burned out because I was looking for brown eyeliner and the side pocket of your makeup bag was open and there were condoms in it!
TELL DAD AND I WILL CHEW YOUR ARM OFF!"
She stands in the kitchen, HUGE smirk on her face, waiting for my reaction. I quickly mull over some kind of response:
- "Um...they're for when your brother is older and needs to learn about protection?" Because at this point I am willing to throw her little brother under the bus so she doesn't think I am doing the nasty with her father.
- "Um, I don't use those with Daddy!" No, that's not right either. I love her father, and all of my guitarist crushes have security. I DO use them with Daddy. Crap.
- "If your father would get the damned vasectomy I wouldn't need to lug those around with my Clinique products, now would I? Go take it up with him, I'm not a whore, he's lazy! Marry someone who gets snipped, Princess, because you're just playing Russian Roulette during all of those nooners!" Is the truth appropriate here?
- "OD, why are you putting condoms in my makeup bag? Where did you get these, health class?" A good offense is the best defense.
ME: "What does Sex mean?"
SON: "It's a bad word."
ME: "No, it's not a bad word. Sex is not bad, it's when people use the word and don't understand it that it's bad. That's why kids usually shouldn't talk about it, because they can't really understand it until they're older. What does it mean?"
OD: "It's when two people start kissing and stuff."
ME: "Who has sex?"
OD: "College students and bad teenagers."
I hope she thinks I'm a college student, because I'm two decades past being a bad teenager. And by the way? I DID ask OD's permission to run her note in the blog. It's interesting that she's okay with me writing about it on the blog, but still seems to think I haven't told her father. When I asked her if I could write about it, she looked confused, and said, "Why?" I told her it's funny, and that other moms go through the same thing. She just shrugged her shoulders and said, "Whatever. It's your reputation."
Happy Whoreticulture Friday! Have a great weekend!