Who You Gonna Call?

Ghostbusters!
(or if you happened to work on the Epic circa 2012, JON DUSOE!)

The recently release of the revamped Ghostbusters blew me away. I loved it. I laughed uproariously throughout, jumped at all the jump-scares, and gasped with relief when Kristen Wiig’s character caught Melissa McCarthy’s.

And the battle scene…I’ll get to that.

I had taken in all the hubbub surrounding the release of this movie with a grain of salt. Cards on the table, I’m not a huge OG Ghostbusters fan. I watched it as a kid, having a vague recollection of enjoying the animated and live action series, and that’s about it. I had rewatched it on Netflix sometime last year and thought it did NOT hold up- it was demeaning to women, the jokes were dated and frankly, not funny, and the only main character of color was kind of a stereotype. Plus I’m not a Bill Murray fan (and here’s where I lose people). BUT IT’S TRUE.

Frankly, this remount was made with my demographic in mind.

Reasons I was excited for this release:
1. I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE the four women in the lead roles. Kate and Leslie KILL on SNL, Kristen Wiig is so enjoyable whether she’s playing zany or serious (though lately her serious roles are super good, she’s grown SO MUCH as an actor since leaving SNL), and Melissa McCarthy is just my favorite, no contest.
2. The trailer had me laughing WAY TOO LOUD and snorting.
3. Being a mild fan of GB for most of my life, this looked like a remake made with fans in mind, similar to how Force Awakens and Star Trek were approached- it’s own thing, with plenty of lore still intact to satiate the more hard-core fans.
4. It’s not a blatant rehashing, but a new story (a la Force Awakens and Star Trek)
5. FEMALE-LED COMEDY THAT’S NOT ABOUT ROMANCE. Hallelujah!
6. FEMALE-LED SCI-FI THAT’S NOT ABOUT ROMANCE OR SEX!
7. Piss-boys being upset. Even if the movie sucked, I would have gone, just to piss the sexist eejits off.

Now, having grown up a fan of Sci-Fi and fantasy series, I’m used to not being explicitly represented in media. Females, particularly female leads, are rare (usually 1 in 4 or 1 in 3- Leia, Hermione, Black Widow, etc) and they almost always, on top of being whip-smart and badass, are characterized as “beautiful” or “sexy” (heck, even Hermione has the Yule Ball in Goblet of Fire).

When I first became obsessed with Star Wars: The Phantom Menace (don’t judge, that movie was aimed at my age demo- 9-10 year olds), I wanted to BE a Jedi. But there weren’t any female Jedi, none with any significance to the story anyway. Padme Amidala is a badass in her own way, being an excellent Queen and later Senator, but she’s ultimately the love interest, the beauty who can kick butt but still pines for the male lead (and dies for it). I started obsessing over the Jedi Order, loving Obi-Wan Kenobi (and creating a costume the summer after the movie released to wear for Halloween) and then Luke. As I read more into the Expanded Universe, I found the female Jedi I was longing for: Jaina Solo, Mara Jade Skywalker, Tenel Ka, Tahiri, etc. But these female Jedi were book-only (and now no longer canon, dammit). So you can understand my subtle envy of the 10 year old girls nowadays who can follow along to Rey’s journey, dress up as her, and know she will become the female Jedi we’ve been longing for.

There is a picture that circulated upon the premiere of Ghostbusters of Kristen Wiig creating some tiny fans, who were all dressed in the iconic jumpsuits and ecto packs. People zoom in on the excited face of one little girl, looking up at Kristen with such awe, that no one can deny the good this new movie has done. The movie could be awful, but the fact that it is GOOD, means we as women in need of non-romantic, female-led media feel validated, feel represented.

And then there was the battle scene.
Oh. My. Lanta. At first, I watched it in awe for the amazing effects and moves, appreciating just how freaking awesome the four took names. But then, facebook posts with similar reactions pointed out something just as important: it’s one of the only (if not the only) female fight scene that is entirely choreographed to NOT amplify the female body. It’s choreographed just how it would be if it were four men fighting those ghosts, how WE would fight the ghosts, because let’s be honest, when you’re fighting for your life, you’re not worrying how your tits and ass look, you’re just making sure they don’t get chopped off by that ghostly scimitar. Seriously.

Why is this important?
Because representation matters. Having no romantic plots (beyond Kristen’s character’s crush on Hemsworth, which is nothing compared to the amount of dogged pursuing and rape-y objectification of women Murray’s character does in the original), and putting them in the same costumes and choreo that a man would wear and do, means we as women are seen closer to equal, and not objects. It means kids-girls and boys- see this as normal, as opposed to a rarity in worth of 1000+ word thinkpieces on blogs.

And if no other girl who prefers action to makeup has to grow up always idolizing only the boy characters because they do stuff, as opposed to the girl characters who are the beauty, because they have a plethora of characters like them to look up to, then that is a world a bit brighter.

Body Confidence Post Miscarriage

I’m currently in the middle of writing up my reactions to the new Ghostbusters film, but am taking a break to discuss something that keeps rearing its ugly head in my life: body confidence.

As I’ve written about before, I struggled a lot with self-acceptance growing up. And I had reached a good point this year. Beachbody has really helped me on my journey. It’s the miscarriage that messed it all up.

This is the first midriff baring selfie I’ve taken in months. Immediately following the miscarriage, my midsection went from on-the-way-to-being-toned to no tone whatsoever like that *snap*. It looked like it had when I started two years prior. And while it’s cool to show your midriff no matter the “state” it’s in (wear that bikini, a beach body is a body on the beach), I was proud of my abs; I worked hard on them and wanted to show them off.

I wasn’t that far along in my pregnancy, only 8 weeks, but that’s enough time for hormones to take a toll. Within the first few days-weeks of implementation, the uterus starts expanding, hormone levels rise, a whole bunch of things start happening really fast. And then, suddenly, it all STOPS. And evacuates. And for me at least, this has left my midsection worse off than it was before. It feels like more stuff just hangs around there and my thighs than before.

My butt is bigger too, though whether that’s due to hormones or from the fact that my office job- which I started right around the time I conceived- keeps me sitting on it for 8 hours a day, I’m not sure. And unlike current trends, I DO NOT want it big. I want to fit in the shorts I own, thank you very much. I try to get up and take extended walk breaks every day at work, and work out twice or more a day, etc, and yet it keeps expanding. Each time I sit in my office chair it feels like giving up.

These physical changes add to the emotional toll I keep battling to pay. Justin and I are in therapy, every other week or so, to talk things through with a professional. It’s worth it, to have him with me, to have him there to get his insight and expand our communication as a couple. What sucks is that, though the immediate pain is gone, and the initial grief, a pain continues in the form of sad resignation when my period starts yet again, and rage at any movie trailer featuring a pregnant woman (Justin had to physically restrain me during the Bridget Jones’ Baby trailer in the movie theater otherwise I would’ve double-middle-fingered the screen), or any talk of facebook friends being pregnant or giving birth (I love you, but FUCK YOU and your healthy pregnancy (with the exception of pregnant friends who have also suffered miscarriages/infertility because you know this rage)). It’s exhausting to keep going when you’re starting from square one yet again. When you’re trying to conceive, actively trying, and you get that positive pregnancy test, it feels like you won the lottery. Trying to conceive is like playing roulette. You can try to stack the odds, but it’s always a gamble, and it’s never in your favor (This is why those who “accidentally” get pregnant get the “FUCK YOU,” because, fuck you). So when you’ve won the lottery, a miscarriage is like casino security coming over as you and your partner joyfully stumble towards the exit with your winnings and takes it all back. Oops, sorry, that wasn’t for you. Try again. At least now you know you CAN win, right?

Right.

And with each cycle that passes, I feel more and more like a failure. I feel guilty enjoying things I wouldn’t have been able to do if I were still pregnant- drinking alcohol, eating sushi, going on roller coasters. I’m ready to give those up- I try to do so each month during the “two week wait” just in case only to find my efforts have been in vain. When asked WHY I’m not drinking when out with people, I stumble over the explanation- usually I go with “I just don’t want to,” but the real reason is “I MIGHT be pregnant, but I don’t know, it’s too early, but I’m trying to be safe just in case because studies have shown that there is no safe amount of alcohol to consume while pregnant and I’ll feel guilty if I do end up pregnant and I have a drink.” My imperfect body, though strong and enduring in road races and workouts, continues to fail me both in physical appearance and fertility.

I write this, not as a pity party, but as a reminder for later-Me and others reading this of the time not spoken of- the time between the miscarriage and the viable pregnancy. It’s not an immediate transition from one to the next. It’s a long, arduous journey of doubt, frustration, false-hope, depression; towards the elusive dream of one day having a child that is genetically from you.