Morning After Reflections
The Body-ody-ody-ody issue... Warning: this newsletter discusses abortion and Roe v. Wade being overturned.
It’s an uphill battle to feel at home in one’s body.
Things aren’t quite as dire as Sisyphus pushing his boulder or Kate Bush running to make her deal with God1, but it is frustrating. Whenever I find myself in a particularly hard time or start to spiral down into a pit of despair, my brain throws body insecurity on top like an extra sock in a nearly stuffed load of laundry. It’s small but holds the power to dye all the white linens pink.2
I’d say that most women I know have a complicated relationship or some sort of estrangement from their bodies. Even as I write that I realize it’s reductive. Most people I know have some sort of complex relationship with their bodies. Body image, sex, health, and for some individuals the possibility of popping-out small children is a lot to contend with. It’s scary to think how little power we hold over our own bodies. Or at least it’s scary to me.
I’ve never been able to reconcile my body’s ability to do this thing that feels so completely wrong for me where I’ve been in my life thus far. I hear men my age say “when I have children…” because this is an easy prospect. For me it has always been an if. If I can overcome the fears of how pregnancy might change my body, brain chemistry, and daily life. Then maybe it’d be okay.
I planned how to get Plan B years before I ever started having sex and have been so micro-careful that I feel it’s something that needs unpacking in therapy. Yet, I’m one of the most privileged. I live in a liberal state. My birth control is covered by insurance. I have people who would drive me to a planned parenthood and stay with me while I recovered, and I have the savings to pay for it. In other words, I have options. So many people don’t. They don’t have options before, after, or during pregnancy, and after yesterday they have even less.
But you are not here for what you already know or for academic analysis! And lord knows if you are looking for an education, there are more knowledgable people who can give it to you.
Instead, I’ll sum up my last 48 hours3 just for the hell of it:
I woke up Friday morning with a pep in my step. I was feeling good in my body. I’d stretched five mornings in a row (which I never do) and had a fresh hair cut from the family run place across the street. Thursday afternoon I'd taken myself on a solo adventure to one of my favorite bookstores where I allowed myself ONE book (a nearly impossible feat) having to do with LA. I was distracted by three thrift stores on the way there and had my will crumble in the last one, over beautiful vinatge beaded purses. So one 1930s black leather purse, one gift for my mother, and one Joan Didion novel richer, I returned home on the bus while plowing through "The Women's Movement" section of Joan Didion's The White Album and then had a nice little dinner of cheese, apple, hummus, and a 9:30 pm burrito while watching the new Doctor Strange movie. So again, I woke Friday morning with a pep in my step. I was well rested and ready to face my demons (job applications). I was up by nine with a fresh cup of English Breakfast in hand when I recieved a notification...
Didion’s disappointment in the women’s movement is summed up by her suspicion that, “the movement is no longer a cause but a symptom.”4 I don’t know if I agree with many of Didion’s findings in the essay, but that final sentiment feels familiar. My Instagram feed becomes flooded with the same unverified resources and tweets of outcry. People compare my body with the protections afforded to guns. Pictures of signs I’ve seen before pop up. We repeat imagery from The Handmaid’s Tale.
I don’t mean to entirely dismiss it, but I wonder what I will possibly accomplish with another story repost? What new thing could I possibly say?
And once I’ve said it, is that all? How do I live with the knowledge of how little I’ve done? How do I move on with my day?
When I originally started this draft it was meant to focus on my body image. How various levels of maintenance never feel like enough.5 How oscillating between a Megan Thee Stallion song level confidence and feeling like a blob is exhausting, but it’s not nearly as exhausting as all of the fear and anger I’ve been stoking since fighting the anti-abortion girls way back in Catholic school religion class.
One time on the way to the school dance, I remember being outnumbered in an impromptu debate. I was told by my friends that people would look back at our society and think of abortion as a horrific type of genocide. All but one friend went inside without me, and I cried on the corner for ten minutes.
In college, I went to see lawyer Gloria Allred speak to a room full of the USC Student Assembly for Gender Empowerment. She stood up to tell our audience that gender equality cannot and will not exist without abortion. It’s never felt more revelatory and true to me than in that moment.
So Friday morning, faced with the ruling we’ve all feared for so long, I simply went about my day. I went to lunch. I wrote a cover letter. I bought toilet paper. I made plans for next week. I finished The White Album. I can’t remember if I stretched.
Sometimes the only way to deal with that complex relationship with your body is to live in it.
At the end of the day, I kept my plans for a night out, determined to not sit around in hopeless moping. I tore up my closet to find the perfect blend of temperature, comfort, and fashion. After throwing out the first two qualifiers in favor of fashion, I felt near fabulous when I arrived at a karaoke bar.
Two hours and two drinks in, my performance of Kate Bush’s “Running Up that Hill” commences. It’s a euphoric, terrifying experience. I strain my poor vocal cords as far as they can go and dance to the Kate Bush renaissance of our time. Momentarily, I am completely at home and in control of my body. My body works only for me. Belongs only to me. We’re at the top of the hill, with no need for a deal because we’ve embraced each other, never to be parted again.
And yet…
A half-hour later, I’m in an 80s-themed club6. My brain knows every song lyric, but my body is fading. She’s too hot or too tired. She doesn’t instinctively know the moves anymore. I keep having to pull her back into another dance. She starts, flies, sputters, and dies down again. I curse her for ruining my fun.
Today, I can feel my body preparing for war on me. The cramping, tensing, and nausea that comes with a particularly cruel period. But I will try to be kind to her. Give her nettle tea, Advil, and vitamins. I will remember she never means to betray me. She just gets confused about her function sometimes, as we all do.
Despite our lack of synchronicity, my body is not the enemy. We may be in a dysfunctional relationship neither of us can leave, but we both try our best.
Will I fail her by giving up my new stretching routine? Will I forget to take my pill and then take too many, throwing my hormones out of wack for a week? Will I neglect her need for medicine, exercise, or most commonly a glass of water? Or will she fail me without realizing it by getting pregnant?
I don’t know.
But to everyone who became a little more terrified of their body yesterday morning - to everyone who feels out of control, powerless or trapped -
I am truly sorry.
Some Resources for this Era:
Plan C abortion pills by mail.
Another option for Abortion pills by mail.
Find abortion services near you.
Planned Parenthood’s Abortion Resources (you can look for a clinic near you).
Reprocare Healthline - services to support people having abortions at home, which are medically safe but can put you at legal risk.
Repro Legal Helpline: a free confidential helpline to learn your rights and help with self-managed abortions.
More information about safe self-managed abortions.
Repro Legal Defense Fund, which advocates for people being arrested or investigated for self-managed abortion.
A group that helps raise funding for abortions.
This is by no means an exhaustive list.
Whatever you do please stay safe. You are not alone. Please know I am here if you need someone to talk to or a ride anywhere.
Outfit of this Era:
This Era’s Recommendations:
Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love - the entire album!
A fun little day to yourself.
Anything and everything Megan Thee Stallion has given us but especially “Thot Shit.”
Karaoke (private room or a bar!)
“Shoulda Woulda Coulda” Episode 4.11 of Sex and the City.
A social media break.
The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune for an instant boost of serotonin.
Wheat Thins.
@hellicity_merriman on Instagram for great American Girl Doll memes.
I’d recommend Didion but I know she’s just going to come up again in the next one.
I swear this song has been in my Spotify wrapped since 2018, but I’m a Stranger Things fan so who will believe me.
This has never happened to me, but all those movies can’t be lying right?
yes, it’s all about me. this is my newsletter.
The White Album pg 118
That reference goes out to you Nora Ephron and “On Maintenance” in I Feel Bad About My Neck. As she brilliantly wrote, “Maintenance takes up so much of my life that I barely have time to sit down at the computer.” pg 31
My musical taste was finally put to good use.