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boodieWild Women Do
And apparently they do it at "Wild Woman Workshop Weekends" where according to the flyer that was being thrust at me excitedly, I could 'Unlock my inner woman' 'Discover my hidden girl child' 'tap into the creative force within my body'.
It all sounded far to new age for my liking, and why oh why did we have to discover our 'inner woman' 40kms up a dirt track in the middle of a wilderness area, why not for once couldn't we find our 'inner woman' in a nice 5 star hotel, with pool, spa, sauna and room service, I wouldn't be adverse to that sort of 'Wild Woman Workshop Weekend'.
Carol, my friend, snorted at me when I said this to her, 'at a 5 star hotel you would be hard pressed to find a slightly mischievous woman, it's all about getting in touch with yourself'
I looked at her in horror 'What do you mean, getting in touch with yourself?' and I had nightmare visions of 30 woman all laying flat on their backs, mirror in hand, acquainting themselves with their nether regions, and being encouraged to give a nick name to the more salient parts.
Carol must have guessed where my imagination was taking me, she hit me with the flyer, 'behave' she said, 'anyway, I signed us both up, we leave tomorrow afternoon at 3, I'll come and pick you up after work, it costs $100 so bring that with you, read the information sheet, pack lightly and I'll see you tomorrow.'
Of she swanned, leaving me open mouthed and resigned to my fate, I looked at the flyer more closely, hmmm, 'pack lightly,' what did that mean, the list of activities seemed fairly innocuous, 'music,' oh god, hordes of woman wearing next to nothing dancing around in a circle, sort of in time, to the atonal and monotonous beat of a bongo, or perhaps we had to make our musical instruments from our surroundings.
Back to this pack lightly, bugger that, I ain't freezing my tits of for no one, jeans, track pants, a pillow AND a doona, towel, torch, matches, and what was this, 'there will be no smoking, no chocolate, no coffee or tea' I nodded, after a weekend deprived of chocolate, caffeine and a decent nights sleep, I would certainly be a Wild Woman, though not in the way they meant.
I added sleeping bag to list when I got to the part about accommodation, 'designed to awaken the senses to the lost 'woman' inside, our pioneering spirit' which meant we'd be sleeping either on the floor, or a bed made of branches.
Music, dancing, yep women and bongos, please oh god, let them all keep their clothes on, hordes of naked woman dancing, breasts swaying in all directions, so what else was there, 'appreciation of nature,' more hideous visions of naked women assaulting poor innocent trees by hugging them.
It was then I knew that 'toilet facilities' meant either a drop box, or it would be part of 'nature appreciation' to dig a hole and bury the waste next to another poor innocent tree, who never harmed anyone in its' life, and this was the thanks it was getting.
Oh and lucky us, we were having a "special workshop" presented by this Woman from the U.S on the subject of.......'menstrual art'. Oh EWWWWWWWW, no way Jose, and oh god, even worse, 'women who are menstruating this weekend are asked to refrain from using artificial protection, as you may want to use your goddess flow to create your own art work'. Oh and it gets even better 'if you wish to participate in creating your own art piece, but are not menstruating, then for a small fee we can supply you with a vial'.
Dracula would be impressed.
A quick look on the Internet using Google confirmed my suspicions, this was big stuff in the States, the New York Post had ordained it a legitimate artistic expression, and now it was heading here.
This weekend was getting worse by the minute; perhaps I can fall downstairs and break something, perhaps Carol will fall downstairs and break something, for this I am forking over $100 of my hard earned money. Jesus, if I ever felt the need to create art with my 'goddess flow' I could bloody well (excuse the pun) do it at home for nothing.
Promptly at 3pm the next day, Carol picked me up, she frowned at my bulging carisak, and said 'you were supposed to pack lightly' I looked at her, 'I have my reasons'. I threw it into the boot, next to her backpack, she'd taken to heart the instruction to 'pack lightly'; barely big enough to hold a spare change of clothes, I slammed the boot shut and slid into the seat next to her.
'Um Carol?' she looked at me, 'did you read that entire flyer, all the way through' she nodded her head, 'really?' I blinked, perhaps Carol was into that sort of thing, it's the quiet ones you have to watch out for. 'Sooooo it doesn't worry you, you don't think it's a bit icky.' We pulled up at a traffic light and she turned in her seat to look at me, 'What are you blathering about, how can a weekend spent with other women be icky, I'm surprised at you.'
I got the flyer out of my handbag and waited til we pulled up at the next set of traffic lights, 'aren't you in the slightest bit put off by the special workshop, you're a woman of many hidden depths' I handed it to her and watched as she read it, the she looked at me, 'it's an art class, what's so icky about an art class'.
I looked at Carol, 'ummm, Carol, do you know what they mean by menstrual art?' she shrugged her shoulders, 'some branch of art, I guess like cubism'.
Oh god, how do I put this, 'Pull over at the next traffic lights, we have to have a talk, and I don't think while you're driving is the best time to give you a shock'
Carol stared at me, but did as I asked, 'you've been weird about this weekend ever since I first mentioned it, if you didn't want to come, I don't understand why you didn't just say so.' For a moment I lost the power of speech, say no to Carol about anything, can't be done, she steamrolls over any and all objections, but now wasn't the time to point this out.
I went through my list, mentioning naked women, dancing, gyrating goosebumped breasts, bongos, branch beds, drop boxes, digging holes, bathing in freezing cold streams, leaving the best to last, 'now onto the menstrual art, do you really not know what it is?'
Carol looked at me; she was getting angry, I could tell, 'I told you I didn't, what is your problem!'
I took a deep breath, 'menstrual art is making pictures using the blood from your period'
It was at this moment in time that I wished I'd brought a camera with me, the look on her face was priceless, her jaw dropped, a look of utter horror crossed her face, then she went a funny puce colour 'that's, just just, oh EWWWWWWW, that's disgusting!!'.
I grinned, 'So there's a limit to how wild a Woman you want to be, huh? I think we deserve a drink, and I know just the place.' A couple of hours later we were stretched out by a pool, enjoying room service and looking forward to a gourmet meal, I looked at Carol, 'Now this is how Wild Women spend their weekends.'
(c) Denise Altoff 2002
And apparently they do it at "Wild Woman Workshop Weekends" where according to the flyer that was being thrust at me excitedly, I could 'Unlock my inner woman' 'Discover my hidden girl child' 'tap into the creative force within my body'.
It all sounded far to new age for my liking, and why oh why did we have to discover our 'inner woman' 40kms up a dirt track in the middle of a wilderness area, why not for once couldn't we find our 'inner woman' in a nice 5 star hotel, with pool, spa, sauna and room service, I wouldn't be adverse to that sort of 'Wild Woman Workshop Weekend'.
Carol, my friend, snorted at me when I said this to her, 'at a 5 star hotel you would be hard pressed to find a slightly mischievous woman, it's all about getting in touch with yourself'
I looked at her in horror 'What do you mean, getting in touch with yourself?' and I had nightmare visions of 30 woman all laying flat on their backs, mirror in hand, acquainting themselves with their nether regions, and being encouraged to give a nick name to the more salient parts.
Carol must have guessed where my imagination was taking me, she hit me with the flyer, 'behave' she said, 'anyway, I signed us both up, we leave tomorrow afternoon at 3, I'll come and pick you up after work, it costs $100 so bring that with you, read the information sheet, pack lightly and I'll see you tomorrow.'
Of she swanned, leaving me open mouthed and resigned to my fate, I looked at the flyer more closely, hmmm, 'pack lightly,' what did that mean, the list of activities seemed fairly innocuous, 'music,' oh god, hordes of woman wearing next to nothing dancing around in a circle, sort of in time, to the atonal and monotonous beat of a bongo, or perhaps we had to make our musical instruments from our surroundings.
Back to this pack lightly, bugger that, I ain't freezing my tits of for no one, jeans, track pants, a pillow AND a doona, towel, torch, matches, and what was this, 'there will be no smoking, no chocolate, no coffee or tea' I nodded, after a weekend deprived of chocolate, caffeine and a decent nights sleep, I would certainly be a Wild Woman, though not in the way they meant.
I added sleeping bag to list when I got to the part about accommodation, 'designed to awaken the senses to the lost 'woman' inside, our pioneering spirit' which meant we'd be sleeping either on the floor, or a bed made of branches.
Music, dancing, yep women and bongos, please oh god, let them all keep their clothes on, hordes of naked woman dancing, breasts swaying in all directions, so what else was there, 'appreciation of nature,' more hideous visions of naked women assaulting poor innocent trees by hugging them.
It was then I knew that 'toilet facilities' meant either a drop box, or it would be part of 'nature appreciation' to dig a hole and bury the waste next to another poor innocent tree, who never harmed anyone in its' life, and this was the thanks it was getting.
Oh and lucky us, we were having a "special workshop" presented by this Woman from the U.S on the subject of.......'menstrual art'. Oh EWWWWWWWW, no way Jose, and oh god, even worse, 'women who are menstruating this weekend are asked to refrain from using artificial protection, as you may want to use your goddess flow to create your own art work'. Oh and it gets even better 'if you wish to participate in creating your own art piece, but are not menstruating, then for a small fee we can supply you with a vial'.
Dracula would be impressed.
A quick look on the Internet using Google confirmed my suspicions, this was big stuff in the States, the New York Post had ordained it a legitimate artistic expression, and now it was heading here.
This weekend was getting worse by the minute; perhaps I can fall downstairs and break something, perhaps Carol will fall downstairs and break something, for this I am forking over $100 of my hard earned money. Jesus, if I ever felt the need to create art with my 'goddess flow' I could bloody well (excuse the pun) do it at home for nothing.
Promptly at 3pm the next day, Carol picked me up, she frowned at my bulging carisak, and said 'you were supposed to pack lightly' I looked at her, 'I have my reasons'. I threw it into the boot, next to her backpack, she'd taken to heart the instruction to 'pack lightly'; barely big enough to hold a spare change of clothes, I slammed the boot shut and slid into the seat next to her.
'Um Carol?' she looked at me, 'did you read that entire flyer, all the way through' she nodded her head, 'really?' I blinked, perhaps Carol was into that sort of thing, it's the quiet ones you have to watch out for. 'Sooooo it doesn't worry you, you don't think it's a bit icky.' We pulled up at a traffic light and she turned in her seat to look at me, 'What are you blathering about, how can a weekend spent with other women be icky, I'm surprised at you.'
I got the flyer out of my handbag and waited til we pulled up at the next set of traffic lights, 'aren't you in the slightest bit put off by the special workshop, you're a woman of many hidden depths' I handed it to her and watched as she read it, the she looked at me, 'it's an art class, what's so icky about an art class'.
I looked at Carol, 'ummm, Carol, do you know what they mean by menstrual art?' she shrugged her shoulders, 'some branch of art, I guess like cubism'.
Oh god, how do I put this, 'Pull over at the next traffic lights, we have to have a talk, and I don't think while you're driving is the best time to give you a shock'
Carol stared at me, but did as I asked, 'you've been weird about this weekend ever since I first mentioned it, if you didn't want to come, I don't understand why you didn't just say so.' For a moment I lost the power of speech, say no to Carol about anything, can't be done, she steamrolls over any and all objections, but now wasn't the time to point this out.
I went through my list, mentioning naked women, dancing, gyrating goosebumped breasts, bongos, branch beds, drop boxes, digging holes, bathing in freezing cold streams, leaving the best to last, 'now onto the menstrual art, do you really not know what it is?'
Carol looked at me; she was getting angry, I could tell, 'I told you I didn't, what is your problem!'
I took a deep breath, 'menstrual art is making pictures using the blood from your period'
It was at this moment in time that I wished I'd brought a camera with me, the look on her face was priceless, her jaw dropped, a look of utter horror crossed her face, then she went a funny puce colour 'that's, just just, oh EWWWWWWW, that's disgusting!!'.
I grinned, 'So there's a limit to how wild a Woman you want to be, huh? I think we deserve a drink, and I know just the place.' A couple of hours later we were stretched out by a pool, enjoying room service and looking forward to a gourmet meal, I looked at Carol, 'Now this is how Wild Women spend their weekends.'
(c) Denise Altoff 2002
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no subject
Date: 2002-11-22 04:06 am (UTC)ARGH!
ARGH!
The best day of my life was the day I discovered I could soak up my 'goddless flow' with TAMPONS! It's what nature intended. :P
no subject
Date: 2002-11-22 04:46 am (UTC)bongos anyone
8-)
no subject
Date: 2002-11-22 07:33 am (UTC)I love you, boo ^.^
no subject
Date: 2002-11-23 02:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-22 09:58 am (UTC)Great story. I "ewwwed" and "ahhhed" in all the right places. 8)
no subject
Date: 2002-11-23 02:50 am (UTC)*g*
no subject
Date: 2002-11-24 05:19 pm (UTC)A vial? How vile!
Please don't think that all American women are really into this kind of idiocy -- it's them damnyankees in Noo Yawk what's doing this! (And probably several dozen airy-fairy Californians. And don't come at ME with offended reactions to that, anyone, because I was BORN in California, and I have come to the conclusion that it's a great place to be from -- FAR from!)
Sheesh!
And anyone who doesn't think it's possible to be wild in a five-star hotel is just not aware of a lot of things! (Like the fact that there are BEDS in those hotels . . . (grin))
But this was funny -- I laughed out loud!
Wonderfully written!
no subject
Date: 2002-11-26 04:43 am (UTC)Thanks..
That sort of thing appeals to a very small sub set here, the "i wish I was born in the 60s when it was ok to be a hippy' sort
Re:
Date: 2002-11-26 09:59 am (UTC)Your story belongs in "Funny Times" or something like that ("Funny Times" is a humor/satire tabloid here in the U.S., rather left-leaning but open to anything that's truly funny, and yours is truly funny)!