Boobs

You know what I realized today?  I have really great Boobs. I do! I like to play with them.  Different shirts make um pop.  I don’t understand why woman feel violated when a man looks at their Boobs.  To any woman that feels that way I say spend a day at BYU Mormon University.  Men never looked at my Boobs out there.  I sort of forgot I had them.

When I was in high school I was in the pool with one of my best friends.  He and I were wrestling and he "accidentally" grabbed my Boob.  He did not let go right away.  Oh I felt so guilty!  I wondered if I needed to talk to my bishop.  I gave him a stern talking to about his getting fresh with me.  But secretly like it.  Probably why I felt so guilty.  That was the last time a man touch my Boobs. Now I would very much like a man to touch my Boobs.  They are very nice and I think we would both enjoy it. 

Right after I learned the truth of Joseph Smith I started spending time with a man.  My hands on Sex ED teacher.  It took about three sessions of making out before I let him see and touch my Boobs.  It was so fun.  I liked it.  I ended things with him after that.  He wanted to show me his penis and we all know what happens when I see a penis. (see: The “S” Talk)  It was just going too fast and I need time to heal…but I still like my Boobs.

To celebrate my Boobs losing their boobginity I went to Victory Secrets to buy two new bras.  I realized I will always get to ware fun underwear!   Mormons ware a T-Shirt and Bike Shorts under all their clothing to help them not have sex.  I get to ware sexy underwear and bounce around in it forever! I want to get fun colors and lacey and strappy and sexy. I want to wear them in front of a man.  Scandaliouse! It’s a whole new underwear world I live in!  

I just wish I could figure out a way to get a guy to play with my Boobs.  It is a real predicament.  I mean I can’t just walk up to some bloke on the street and say “Come on! Give um a squeeze won’t you?”  I could start by updating my wardrobe.  The other night I went to a bar alone(as usual) and I wore my slutiest outfit.  High heels, a swoop neck shirt, and a skirt that went above my knee.  I thought I was all set.  In-fact I worried I was giving of the wrong impression.  Gosh Damn It!  You should have seen these girls.  They knew how to treat there Boobs. They looked so good that I wanted to cup a feel.  They are all prancing around while I’m trying to convince this guy that ‘No. I’m not a flight attendant who just got off work.’  

So here I am.  26 with one fantastic rack and no one is shopping.  I don’t want a Boyfriend and I am certainly not ready to have sex.  I just want to enjoy the Boobalish-rights that have been denied of me all my life.  Is that too much to ask guys? I was unable to convince people I was not a flight attendant, or a school teacher, or a nun. I left the bar and walked around the city.  I poked my head into a few bars just to watch the people in their natural habitat.  At 12:01 I decided to stop in a bar and order one shot. 

“Hey honey where is your Boyfriend?,” said a greasy inebriate

“Oh ha…don’t have one” I said

“Where your girlfriends?”, Said greasy

“I’m just out by myself tonight. Thought I stop in a get a shot because it’s my birthday!” I said proudly

“You’re by yourself on your birthday?” Said Greasy

“Yeah… It’s okay. See I got a shot to celebrate. My girlfriends and I used to do shots to celebrate but we would use orange juice. They don’t drink… I don’t see them much anymore.”

I suddenly awoke to my sad situation and left.  It is strange leaving Mormonism.  I often wonder if I will be able too. I certainly can’t imagine going back and singing Praise to the Man.  It takes real courage to walk away.  There is so much pain when you discover the truth.  To stay happy you must focuses on the little things… or in my case the two big things.  

Book of Mormon Musical

I went to see The Book of Mormon musical yesterday.  I saw it by myself witch was fine.  It's to be expected when you are straddling two different worlds.  I decided to make it an event for myself.  I had my BreakingMormon T-shirt, my personal progress necklace,  my hopes up,  and my Book of Mormon with my new testimony in it.  This was my trip to meca. When BOM Musical first came out I hated it.  Oh... the idea that someone would mock the noble Joseph Smith.  Then I study the hidden history of Joseph Smith.  Within a matter of day’s Matt Stone and Trey Parker went from my enemies to my heroes.  To any non-Mormon this was just a fun show about a silly faith. To anyone who actually knows the truth behind Mormonism you see Stone and Parker are making a very clear statement about Joseph Smith and his Book of Mormon. 

The play is a comedy complete with spectacular musical numbers, Sequins, and giant Starbucks coffee cups.  Ben Platt played Elder Cunningham. A lovable nerd who is a compulsive liar.  His story parallels the story of Joseph Smith.  Mormons never to look too deeply into Joseph's  his life.  We should just read the Book of Mormon and pray.  Elder Cunningham rewrites the BOM to convert the villagers in Africa.  He is severely punished for writing his own religious text. (Irony) Nabulungi, a young African girl, is devastated when she learns what she was worshiping was a lie.  Devastating can only began to describe the emotions of finding the true story of Joseph Smith.  You praise and worship this man all your life.  Only to discover that he (and I’m biting my tough hard here) made mistakes.  

The lead characters name is Elder Price.  He was played by Nic Rouleau. Price was a hard working peter priesthood kid who knew the church was true…until he didn't.  I was surprised at how emotional this show would be.  Maybe I saw it too soon. I expected it to be hilarious and poke fun at the church. I didn't expect the second act to bring me to tears. It was cathartic. I wondered how many people in the room knew what it is like to try and leave the Mormon Church.  When Nic Rouleau sang I believe I realized I was watching myself two months ago.  Holding on desperately to something I didn’t really understand. The play beautifully illustrates how every Post-Mormon feels in a scene where Elder Price is in the doctors office. 

At intermission people asked me about my shirt.  It was fun. I answered questions and told them a little of my story.  I only said good thinking about the church.  I know I have bitterness and hard feelings but i'm working on letting that go. I don't want to viciously angry with the church.  I know that it's not all bad.  Mormons are really wonderful people. I have yet to find that balance but unlit I do I will smile and speak highly of the church.

Elder Price is sitting with 12 cups of coffee.  He has turned his back on the church.  “We are Brainwashed” “we are a cult” he said.  It’s a strong accusation that only a post-Mormon can understand.  I hate to say the church Brainwashed me but I will say that I have had Spooky Mormon Hell Dreams(see: Spooky Mormon Hell Dream).   I hate to call it a cult but I will say that I’m a member of faith that is very very hard to leave.  Elder price finds a happy medium between being a Mormon and being what he is.  He learns to love the church again.  Something I long to find. 

At the end the worst thing that can ever happen to a Mormon missionary happens.  They are dishonorably discharge from their mission.  I gasped! Being discharged from your mission is a death sentence to a young Mormon boy. I’m not sure people in the audience really understood that.  You are shamed.  Mormon girls won’t date you. People treat them like a mistake.  They have to explain to their friends and family.  Many men feel they are a failure. But my buddy Elder Price dose something heroic!

After the show I raced out to meet the actors.  I wanted them to sign my Book of Mormon.  When I tell Non-Mormons I’m leaving the Mormon faith they don’t think much of it.  Many faiths only take a second to leave.  You just say “I’m leaving.”  Not so simple with the Mormon faith.  It’s not a religion.  It’s a lifestyle. It’s your world. It’s everyone you know. It’s all you know.  It’s who you are every single day.  I’ve felt so alone these past two months.  No one understands what I’m going through. I don’t want to leave but I don’t know how to stay. 

As the actors were signing my BOM I told them my story.  I didn’t need to say much.  I saw sympathy and compassion in their eyes.  They knew!  They understood. For the first time I was surround by people who didn’t look at me from a distance.  They know the truth.  They sing and tap dance it every night.  They gave me hugs and told me I would be okay.  When Nic Rouleau AKA Elder Price walked out the door I quietly shouted “There he is!”.  I forgot he was an actor.  He was the only other Post-Mormon I knew.  He knew better than anyone what I must be going through.   Sure, he is not really a post-mormon but it is what I wanted to believe so I just believed.  That skill comes in handy. I wish there was such thing as an Elder Price.  I imagine he and I would run away together.  But there are no post-Mormons around here. Nic and I talked, he gave me big huge and told me how excited he was for me.  That everything would be okay.  

 

The actors all left but I stayed at the theater for some time.  I didn’t want it to end.  Come back my friends!  Alas, I was alone again.  I contemplated going back and seeing them again after their show the next night. I could come back every night. But then I remembered I’m not a creepy weirdo.  I would have to return to the world.  A world where men offer to help me get drunk, and woman ware things that show off their shoulders.  “I will be okay” I thought, “tomorrow is not another Latter Day.”

Seminary Buff

  You are lying in a peaceful field of butterflies. The wind playfully dances across your arms, the clouds are in the shapes of bunnies and centaurs are braiding your hair. All is right in the world. Whack! Sudden burning light scorches your retinas. The warm field of butterflies is dragged from you as your father tears off your covers and yells, “Wake up!  It’s 5am! Time for seminary!” 

There is a battle every teenager must fight.  It is the wake-up call, and the earlier in the morning, the fiercer the combat.  It takes every ounce of determination and very rarely is there a compromise.  Every morning the loud crack of the door coupled with the light and ceremonial tearing-off of the covers put me in a state of panic. I was convinced that ripping me from my sleep so abruptly was going to give me brain damage. I had to fight back. At first I tried to be diplomatic, but my father is not capable of peacefully awakening someone.  I had to take drastic measures. I only had one goal for my early morning church class: barely pass. Technically I could show up 20 minutes late and still be marked as present, though tardy. So, I developed a few schemes to help ensure my tardiness.  When you have to get up every morning at 5:00, you will be surprised at the lengths you will go to for an extra 10 minutes of sleep.
I started with the alarm clock.  Every night I would sneak into my father’s room and set the alarm clock back.  Sometimes I would turn it off entirely.  Unfortunately my father soon caught on to this. He puppy guarded his alarm clock so I had to try something else.

As far as I saw it, there were three things dad had on his side: the sound, the light, and the cold.  Sound was easy:  ear plugs. Light? …hmmm…duct tape!  How, you may ask?

5:00am:

Wack! Door bangs open.

 “Wake up! …Hey! What the??  Why is there duct tape all over your light switch?”

For 5 minutes my father had to peel away the sticky tape as I sweetly, slowly, and rationally drifted into wakeful reality. Then dad hid the duct tape. A worthy opponent, he was. Soon I went directly to the source by unscrewing the light bulb every night before bed. My father quickly adapted to this as well. One morning the lighting fixture just exploded. I was thrilled! But that very night my father was right there in the ceiling fixing it.  Curse his handyman hands!

While the fight against the light was an ongoing battle, it was the freezing-cold air that seemed to have me beat. Every morning he would steal the covers from me.  Electrocuting me back to life. I begged—I held my covers as tight as I could—but alas, there was nothing I could do... or was there?

Wack! “Wake up! Time for seminary! Here, I’ll turn your light on for you! Now you don’t need those covers –“

“Dad—don’t—I’m naked!” I screamed.  And I was naked. As an actress I was not going half-ass this role.  My father stared at me, stunned. He dropped the covers.

“WHY ARE YOU NAKED??", he said shielding his eyes, "Don’t you have pajamas?”

“Yes, but I just wanted to sleep naked.”

He was speechless.  There was nothing he could do. Then something amazing happened.  He left my room.  My covers were still on and he was gone.  From that day on I never wore PJs again.  My father was very annoyed.  He would bring it up at the dinner table.

 “She needs pajamas.” He would tell my Mom.

“No I don’t. I sleep just fine without them.” I would say.

My mother was smart enough to stay out of it.  I would come home from school and there would be a nice new pair of PJ’s laid out carefully on the bed. Unfortunately for my dad, sleeping in the buff was growing on me. I figured I’d better enjoy it then before I was forced to wear those Mormon Underwears every night.  Early morning wake-up calls were never as bad—I could lay with the butterflies in the sunny field just a little longer.

 I did pass seminary… “barely.”
  

The Perfect Problem

Dating in the Mormon community is a blood bath of high heels, bleached hair, and eating disorders.  

Utah has some funny statistics despite being nicknamed “Happy Valley”.  This state has one of the highest teen suicide rates.  Women pop anti-depressant pills like Pac Man. Plastic surgery is what gets you into heaven! I remember my brother telling me the reason Mormon men usually date stick-skinny women. They are terrified of an eternity of bad sex. 

 Mormons have a lot to live up to. People have callings that take up at least 20 hours a week.  More if you get a really “good” one.  Everyone is just perfect so to fit in you must be perfect too or else you can expect to die alone. The expectations put on Mormons are insane.  I don’t blame most Mormon men for being male chauvinists.  They don’t know any better.  Just like how most women have a laundry list of expectations for their men. (See: Poop Monsters) There is not a ton of respect on either side if you ask me.  People can't be loved for who they are, they are only loved for how much they believe in Joseph Smith.  If you are a single Mormon with a doubts about the church…better get a cat and name her Emily Dickinson.

The other night I was on one of my online creeper dates.  We went to see the movie “Silver Linings Playbook”.  At the end of the movie Pat declares his love for Tiffany.  They were far from perfect.  He was in a mental hospital and she slept around. Something happened in me. Uncontrollable tears began shooting out of my eyes. My date obviously noticed. (Yet again proving to myself that I’m the weird one on these dates.)  I realized that of all the relationships I have had, I was never loved for who I was. I have had men break things off with me for reasons like, “I would love you more if you had served a mission,” or “How often do you read your scriptures...not enough” or,  “I’m worried because your great grandparents are not pioneers.” or  “I need a woman who will raise our children to memorize the articles of faith,” or “I’m worried some day you might drink alcohol.”  Well, they were right about the alcohol. 

 I was a dating ninja at BYU.  My older sister had given me some really great marital advice. “If you want to get married you need to just pretend to have a perfect testimony. Then later after you get married you can question the church.” So I tried. Toting my scriptures around, wearing the full-sleeve dresses, attending all THREE hours of church, and hiding the fact that I was NOT a full-tithing payer. (Thank God because the Church don't give refunds.) Gosh, I was acting so hard I even fooled myself. I tried so hard to have a testimony but I always knew deep down it was not true. 

 Every year that I was at BYU, I would move to a new apartment complex because I had to “start over”.  I moved in with the perfect Mormon attitude.  I smiled, sat quietly, and talked about how badly I wanted to be a mommy...like right now.  Someone please put a baby in me. Inevitably my true independent, sarcastic and sacrilegious side would come out. Time to move again.  Time to pretend to be what you want.  Be submissive. I was not submissive. I was not in love with Joseph Smith. I was not perfect.  Therefore I was not a good person.  Though I did good for friends and family, I was not good enough where it counted.  In every relationship there would come a moment where I got tired of acting and just wanted to be myself.   My beautiful, loving, caring, compassionate, less-concerned-with-Mormonism self.   Hold on! Did you say less-concerned-with Mormonism?? …

I know—I’ll go get the cat.

In a way my stubborn desire to be loved for myself saved my life.  80% of married Mormons who have a partner who leave the church get divorced.  That means 80% of Mormons woman are more in love with a man who lives on another planet than the one they have on Earth.  

I still get choked-up at the thought of being loved by someone and never hiding from them.  How strange that must be.  It never even occurred to me that that was possible.  No more ninja moves. No more on the spot testimony bearing. No more lying to myself.  I could be with a man who won’t interrogate me about what I learned in church.  I will tell you this, when I get married, everyone will be invited, no underwear check at the door (see: Off-white Wedding).  Well everyone except Elohim…he knows what he did. 

Bon Voyage!

The Mormon church is like a Carnival cruise-line.  All of your activities are planned for you.  They tell you what to eat and drink. They tell you what shows to watch.  You only see parts of the world they want you see.  And everyone on the boat is your friend because you are all in it together.  Then one day you do something bad.  You study the church outside the approved LDS sites.  All of a sudden the boat stops and the toilets are backing up.  You want to stay on the ship because all your friends are there.  You like the food. You wanted to play Charades on the Lido Deck.  But it’s too late because everything stinks. I’m preparing to jump overboard but I don't know how to swim. 

 I’m so used to the church taking care of my every need. Protecting me from those hard decisions like who you are and what you want in life. Now I’m lost.  What will I do without all my structured activities?  How will I make friends?  How will I ever fit in?

   It’s astounding how different the world is outside the bubble.  Luckily there are people in this world who will throw you a life-line.  A few days ago I ran into an old high school friend.  She invited me to go to dinner with her and her boyfriend and a single lady and a married couple she knew.  At dinner I realized something funny.  I was eating dinner with a married couple…like two people who got married but still stayed friends with people who were not married. 

 In Mormon culture, once your friends get married you never see them again.  Most relationships are built for the purpose of finding your eternal companion.   If you have found one then there is no need for other entanglements.  I had a best friend for 2 years.  I loved her and did everything with her.  Once she got a boyfriend she stopped making time for me.  She would only spend time with me if I had a date.  Once she got engaged we had a complete falling-out.  She no longer needed me and she made that clear.  Funny thing is how common that is.  People could not understand why I was upset.  “oh that’s just normal. She is entering a new part of life and she needs to be friends with people she can relate to.”  Just because I wasn’t having sex I couldn’t be her friend? They were right in many ways.  We could not relate anymore. 

 The gap between those who are married and those who are still ( from the words of a prophet) “menace to society” is huge.  You aren’t even allowed to attend the same church service anymore.  The activities are different.  The heaven she will go to is different. The commandments are different. Even your underwear is different.  You really feel like a child. They get to sit at the big kid table while you still have to sit in church and learn the sin of masturbation. 

When I was at dinner I realized that my friend Abigail had experienced all the same things her married friends had.  She wasn’t different just because she was not married. And sitting with the, for once, I was not different.  I WAS NOT DIFFERENT.  I wasn't defined by my singleness.  I don’t even think we talked about dating while I was there. Odd.  In the church you can’t go a day without obsessing about marriage.  We all beg, “for the love of God please let this date go well!” It is the focal point of everything.  Especially at BYU.   I’m no longer defined by my love-life.   I know that I’m not immune from the pull to find someone.  But when I do find someone it will be for the love of love and not “for the Love of God!”  

Arrested Development

Remember when you were about 15 years old?  You started to wonder about life. What was right, or what was cool? You started making friends and developing your own perceptions of the world.  Maybe you drank beer for the first time.  Maybe you had sex.  Maybe you wore a strapless dress.  Or maybe you even read books about whatever you wanted.   If you don’t remember this, then you might have been raised a Mormon.  Growing up everything was planned for me.   No need to wonder about life; Church was life. What's cool? Doing your calling. What was right and wrong? Church was right. Not church = wrong.   Friends? At Church.  Your perception of the world? Do what Joseph Smith did, think as Joseph Smith thought. Beer? NO! Sex? no No NO!  For many, the church is a great way to extend your confused teenage years out into your late 20’s.

“I’ve made a huge mistake.”- Gob Bluth

  

I’m now realizing that I never went through that stage in life where you find yourself.   I was always too busy trying to fit into the church.  Most people slowly welcome in the world. They meet many different type of people.  They try different things.  Find out what ideas they like and don’t like. I find myself a 26-year-old woman with the  self-knowledge of a 12-year-old tweenager. I’m starting over.  Reinventing myself. I’m terrified.

Even little things like a drink stress me out.  I tried buying a beer tonight but the choices are overwhelming.  When I did finally pick one I based my choice on the one with the best logo.  I felt like such a bad-ass walking out of the store with six beers in a little box thing. When I tried to open it I did not have a bottle opener (of course) so I smashed the cap on the counter.  Then when I did get the lid off off it spilled all over.   All these bubbles.  Thick and foamy.  That's when I figured out I could have just screwed off the lid. Careful,  if I drink too much I don’t know what will happen.  

 There are little surprises along the way tho.  For instance: all my life I have been told how guilty I will feel if I break the law of chastity.  How awful the guilt will be because I’m doing something “wrong.”  After all my fun little make-outs with Mr. Mean I was expecting guilt to hit me like a mallet.  I did touch his penis and he touched me everywhere.  That guilt never came. I kept waiting but I never felt  ashamed even. Nothing.  It just feels natural to me. I have a Mormon friend who “messes up” with guys and constantly feels guilty.  I commented to one of my post-Mormon friends on-line about this.  She reminded me that the guilt comes from her belief structure.  I feel no guilt because I know I did not do anything wrong.  I know where and why these rules are put in place.  I recognize that they have little to do with God and more to do with creating sexual frustration to intice Mormons to get married young. Okay..okay... the church also recognizing sex it powerful and It is a good rule in life not to sleep around.  Sex is not something to mess around with.  If two people care about each other and want to have sex, who are they hurting?  I am glad I did not have sex with him- but that's only because  he was an ass.