But seriously

But seriously...

A while ago I posted the following comment on Facebook:

Remember how embarrassed we all were when those adverts for 'masculine hygiene' wash came out, promoting a wash for a man's intimate area? The product was called 'Penisil', remember that? No, of course you don't because such a thing doesn't exist! But the fact that such a product does exist and is promoted for women shows the inherent misogyny in our society.

It got a few 'likes' and a couple of comments. My sentence structure looks a bit off; the last line probably should read 'the misogyny, inherent in out society'. It was a jokey comment but I was making a serious point; about the insidious misogyny which pervades our culture and seems designed to keep women...where? In our place? On our toes? Wrong footed from the off. Of course it's not that simple. Of course advertising, or if we care to get political about it, capitalism, exists to create false needs for things you didn't even realise you needed, things you didn't realise were a problem in the first place. It exists to sell, sell, sell.  It's in industry's interests to make you think that you stink - otherwise you'd never buy deodorant. But if you are a woman, it seems that mere soap and water and deodorant aren't enough. You need a special wash, especially for your 'intimate area'.  Basically, you are possession of the most toxic, dangerous and foul thing known to the human race - the vagina! The euphemisms or pseudonyms for this part of your body constitute the worst swear word in the English language, the worst insult you can throw at a man! (At a man, no less, if thrown at a woman, then your whole identity is encompassed, swallowed up, almost, by this one body part.) You have to buy these extra products to ensure that you don't stink up the playground, the workplace or the bedroom. And if a similar product exists for a man (someone I know suggested the name 'Ballsisil') then I've never seen the advertising for it.

I'm not sure if this sounds like the paranoid ramblings of a humourless, jack-boot wearing feminist or not. (I proudly admit to be a boot wearing feminist, not sure exactly what jack-boots actually are...) But I have a huge bug-bear about this issue. What issue? What can I call it? The demonisation of the vagina? The power of the mighty 'V'? At least the C-word is recognisably offensive, blunt, coarse, harsh. What I find more disturbing is the fact that the term 'douche' has become an acceptable, almost cosy and innocuous seeming slur. It's come over from across the pond of course, as so many things do. But many British people use it all the time now. And what is a douche? Well the proper interpretation would be that it is the French word for 'shower' but when employed by English speaking folk it is taken as short hand for douche-bag; a 'feminine hygiene' product for cleaning the vagina. All kinds of wrong. (Have just looked it up to check my facts and apparently this process is not recommended as it has been linked to cervical cancer, pelvic inflammatory disease, endometritis, and increased risk of sexually transmitted infections - not sure about the veracity of these claims but it doesn't really sound like a good thing all round!) Crucially, this is a product that, again, convinces you of your dirtiness (although it probably started out as an unsuccessful contraceptive device). It is now a buzzword to indicate that someone is an odious, obnoxious piece of human waste material - not just any old human waste material, female waste material! The worst kind.

 Saturday trip to the Dentist

Saturday morning saw me cringing in the hygienist's chair.I was alternately clutching the chair, twisting an imaginary object in my hands, screwing my eyes up tight and almost levitating in my seat.

I was subjected to a deep 'clean' and 'polish'. When I think of the word 'polish', I think of someone gently and carefully rubbing a soft cloth along a plane of shiny wood. Ha! Of all the deeply unpleasant experiences I've  had in the past three years - smear tests, having botox injected into the nerve in my eye (nothing to do with wrinkles - don't ask!) and it taking the anaesthetist 45 minutes to administer an epidural, prior to a Cesarean (my back really did look like a pin cushion), this had to be the worst. The eerie whining of the drill. The way the cleaning machine (instrument of torture) shot shock waves of pain into my nerve endings at every stroke, and the choking sensation of having that mouthful of cold water/powered tooth/fragments of polish clogging up the mouth, without the means to get rid of it, the horrible, prone, vulnerability of the situation!

It's hardly a new or revolutionary thing to state how unpleasant a trip to the dentist can be. I'm not breaking any new ground with this post. But perhaps because it is such a cliche, a trope of our culture, it makes it all the more of a shock when you are actually subjected to this voluntary assault. "It can't be as bad as all that!" You think, trying to banish all thoughts of the film 'Marathan Man' from your mind, before (and during) your visit. Actually, it's worse! :/