Monday, October 18, 2010

Book giveaway for sex ed grad students! What To Expect When You Expect To Be Expecting Some Expectations

Here's my full disclosure, because apparently the FCC or the FAA or somebody wants everyone to know who the puppetmasters of the blogosphere are.  And because I don't know any other way, I will fully disclose in narrative form:

So this guy emails me about a month ago and asks if I want to do some shilling for the "What To Expectbrand.  You know, What To Expect When You're Expecting--the pregnancy Bible--and a number of other titles that deal with post-pregnancy (i.e. child-rearing), as well as a website that has tons of articles and resources for pregnancy and beyond.

I was pretty flattered that they would be interested in marketing their stuff on my blog, and wondered why any reputable operation would want to be associated with what I do here.  After a while (a really long time, actually) it dawned on me that on my Blogger profile, I included What To Expect When You're Expecting among my favorite books, along with a couple kids' books and William S. Burroughs's Naked Lunch.  I was just trying to be funny.




But honestly, when I made up my profile, What To Expect When You're Expecting (heretofore referred to as WTEWYE because I'm sick and tired of typing out that long-ass title) was the most recent grownup book I had read.  And then, as now, I recommended it to anyone expecting to expect something, especially one or more children.


Reading WTEWYE, it dawned on me that it's really a Sex Ed text for graduate students in the discipline.  It made me recall my first exposure to the Sex Ed genre, a children's book with cartoon figures approximating what happens "when a man and a woman want to get as close to each other as they can," tossed to me by my dad after a perfunctory introduction ("Uh...your mom and I think you should read this") when I was in the fourth grade.  Then I thought of the fifth grade assembly when our P.E. teacher, Mr. Moyer, showed us a film and afterward, in his deep Virginia drawl, fielded some anonymously penned questions from the crowd.  He answered two of the queries ("No, boys can not have periods," and "It is very unlikely that you would urinate during intercourse") before concluding, "I believe the rest of these questions should be answered in the home."  


Of course, WTEWYE is light years beyond the basics of how to not get your classmates pregnant.  As amazing as it is to learn about sex for the first time, the process of pregnancy blows it out of the water: it seems as unlikely as any science fiction plot dreamed up by teenage fanboys obsessed with engorged breasts.


WTEWYE explains this extremely complicated process of pregnancy in a way that is easy for the layperson to understand, and it does so without coming off as condescending.  The writing is straightforward and familiar, as if your really smart friend were laying out all the facts for you.  It's also very frank about risks without ever being even slightly alarmist, and that kept me alert, but not paranoid.  (I have talked to a couple people who didn't want to read WTEWYE when they were expecting because they thought they would be freaked out by knowing about the risks inherent with certain stages of pregnancy.  To me, it seems crazy to deny yourself information.  Whatevz.)   


What I really appreciated about WTEWYE is that, even though it's clearly directed primarily at women, as they are statistically much more likely to become pregnant, it doesn't exclude male readers at all. The edition I read even had a regular segment about what dudes could do to be helpful or at least not make things any worse.  I have thumbed through some of the very gendered books about pregnancy (Girlfriend's Guide, Caveman's Pregnancy Companion, e.g.), and found them only mildly amusing, and more than a little annoying.  In contrast, for me, the tone of WTEWYE was for the most part pitch-perfect.


So there you have my full endorsement, without reservations.  As if they need it: 93% of preggos who use any kind of pregnancy guide read WTEWYE.  I guess the What To Expect marketing geniuses figured tastemakers like me (*coughbullshitcough*) could convert the other whatever percent is left after you do the math.  Instead, I'm going to take this opportunity to mock the Pregnancy Bible, the Koran of Conception, the Gestation Dissertation.  With great affection, of course.

The edition of WTEWYE that my wife and I read was a hand-me-down from a friend, and was a bit dated.  It included a nutrition section called "The Best Odds Diet," which is not what they call it in the new version.  In fact, the new edition tells the reader that there are many ways to eat well during pregnancy, and they don't have to follow a particular diet.  So my mockery is anachronistic.  But still.

Unlike the nutrition advice in the latest edition, The Best Odds Diet laid out a very strict regimen of self-denial in the interest of fetal health and maintenance of mom's girlish figure.  My resourceful wife, however, quickly found another reliable expert who argued that in the case of multiples, an expectant mother should eat whatever the hell she craves in order to bring those babies to term.  Dr. Mom lustily followed the latter advice and carried our girls for 37 weeks, working full-time well into the third trimester.  But we sometimes read the Best Odds Diet just for laughs.

And the thing in that old edition of WTEWYE that really won me over was a suggestion for dealing with "intimacy issues" later in the pregnancy.  It recommended that, rather than intercourse, an amorous couple might consider enjoying a milkshake in bed.  It would be just as romantic, but not as uncomfortable.

Then it told us to turn to the page with the recipe for the Best Odds milkshake.  I don't think there was even any milk or yogurt in it, much less sugar and cream.  It was an ascetic blend of frozen bananas, ice, flax seed, and like some twigs and grass, I think.  The recipe was as sensual as a quarterly financial report.

So, you are hoping to knock pregnant boots till the break of dawn, but instead you end up in bed with a mug of frozen mirthlessness.

You might think that this would have eroded some of the credibility the book had in my estimation.  On the contrary, it made me love the book even more.  It was just trying so damn hard!  And its intentions were so good.  All it wanted was for us to do everything we could to keep ourselves and our babies as healthy as possible.  And the latest edition wants the same thing.  It just doesn't demand as much self-denial.

Okay.  Now.  Back to my full disclosure.  The guy from What To Expect asked me to write a review and/or include a link to the WTE website in exchange for providing some books for me to give my readers, as well as copies for me to review.  I asked if I could have some copies to donate to my wife's clinic instead.  (My wife is a doc at a community clinic where most of the patients are uninsured or covered by public programs, and don't have a lot of resources.)  So he said how about we give a bunch of books to the clinic and give some away to your readers?  And I was all, cool.

So, to make it interesting, I decided to turn this into a contest.  If you don't expect to be expecting, and you don't want any of these books, I still encourage you to play the game, just for laughs.  Also, remember that these books make great gifts for your knocked up friends or new parents that you know.

The Contest

To win one of these books, please share your embarrassing Sex Ed story in the comments section.  My wife, who, along with the Jehovah's Witness kid, was one of the only two students in her fifth grade class whose parents wouldn't let her attend the Sex Ed assembly, will choose her twelve favorite stories.

I'll announce the winners next Monday-ish, and then we'll set you up with whichever of the What To Expect titles you want.  Does that sound fair?

Remember, don't let your disinterest in these books stop you from telling about how you learned about the birds and the bees.  This shit fascinates me.  But not in a pervy way.  

Also, if you want a book but don't have a story, just let me know in the comments.  I have no idea what kind of response to expect from this.   

****

Here's something cute that has nothing to do with anything


60 comments:

  1. K, I will bite... This is really embarrassing because I have never heard it from anyone else... When I was in my teens my mother told me that if I let a guy fondle my boobs that he could cause me to have cancer...and me being gullible believed my 'sainted' mother... Which brings me to when I was dating my first bf, we were necking and naturally it led to fondling... when he got to the boobies, like a dummy I mentioned what my mother said and he believing what I said made him stop... A few days after that he came to me and said he was having the guilts thinking he may have caused cancer in some girls he knew... Its been too many years to remember if we ever resolved the issue of whether we figured it was a lie or not....I think after we had parted ways, I figured my mom was just being a kill joy, and no, I never did tell the old bf I figured it out...so, I guess this falls under the category of pre-coital...lol

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  2. I discovered a comic style illustrated book on Freuds theories of human sexuality on the top of my parents bookshelf. You know the whole oral stage bull... Well this book fully illustrated Freuds belief about sexuality, including all his hair brained ideas about incest and our libido and how everything from a cigar to an ackward glance at our mothers pertains to sex. Well I was but a wee lad, and I thought that was the coolest comic book ever.

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  3. I'm boring. I learned the exact same way you did. Since as early as I can remember we had that same white hard cover book with the cartoons. I used to spend hours looking at the multitude of tiny cartoon sperm that lined the bright red inner covers. If I remember correctly, one of those buggers even had a Tom Selleck mustache. So when I smell cum, I picture Tom Selleck. Let me tell you, living in NYC that happens quite a bit.

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  4. "Best Odds Diet"? Wow. I would figure that if you were eating for two or three, any notions of a "diet" would pretty much go out the window.

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  5. I was in like 6th or 7th grade I'd just gone to my doctor and the pubes were starting to come in. The doctor politely explained about how sperm would soon be produced in my nether regions. Afterward, my dad (old school Cuban) came up to me and said something along the lines of, "Well, your body is changing and you're going to be a man soon. We should talk about this if you want." I'm pretty sure learned about sex from my friends in school. The ones who taught me that certain shoes definitely helped you to run a lot faster.

    I had to. My dad isn't really much of a talker. I mean, he's the kind of guy that will put up a fence when his dogs get into a lil scuffle. He will split the property in half to avoid the problem. He quit a job once because the owner held a meeting to tell everyone that they shouldn't be on their cellphones out on the shop floor. My dad's beef was that he should've just talked to the cell phone offenders. He quit a JOB over this.

    He said, "When I was your age, I took a shower with my father and he explained the body to me. Do you want to.."

    I shook my head at this, while looking at my feet.

    "Well, you'll be hearing words in school from your little friends. Penny and pooty."

    I just said to him, "I know. I know these things," and nodded hard enough to pop my head off my body. We were in the doorway to the house. The door where he'd tied a string to the knob to help yank one of my teeth off. The doorway of suckage. I just kept nodding and nodding. I knew how crazy I looked. I also knew the weirdness would just send him away. And he did. He walked off to the car and I soon followed to go wherever we were going.

    Anywhere but there.

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  6. The state i grew up in wouldn't teach us about sex, the most you heard .. well.. you didn't hear. there was a section in your health book that you were supposed to take home and read with your parents. seeing as my mom was doing chemotherapy and was way to sick to talk to me about it, and i was never close to my dad, and my siblings all told me that at 13 i was too young to know about the birds and the bees, i read it myself, found out that somehow his things gets in your thing and presto!.. so i watched lots of (normal) movies on cable and listened to the dirty kids in math class and eventually figured it all out. when i was about 16 i was driving around with my dad and he asked what i knew about sex, i basically told him i knew enough and so he just gave me some advice - "don't start naked, always start with at least a t-shirt on." my dad was a bit of a perv, so, instead of asking anything i just laughed. but, i'm now 21, getting married in a month, (so still waiting for that birds and bees moment) and that comment still rings in my head. i just hope my step mom doesn't buy me any lingerie.. i mean.. t-shirts. lol

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  7. We learned about the birds and the bees in 5th grade and again in 8th grade. In 5th grade, they split the boys and the girls into two classes to describe the changes that would happen to our bodies. Then they brought us back together for the Q&A which was conducted by passing anonymous slips of paper to the teacher with questions which she either threw out (if they were inappropriate) or answered out loud (really awkward for the guys asking about wet dreams). In 8th grade boys and girls were together and instead of watching the whole banana-condom thing, we saw a video of the inside of man's penis via a small camera so we could see the process of ejaculation. Again, majorly awkward for the guys. Thinking back, I do not remember feeling uncomfortable at all with education on women's bodies or reproductive roles. Then again, I don't remember seeing a video of a woman cumming. Do the rest of you find that sex ed for women was restricted to our reproductive capacity and not our sexuality? Was it the same for men?

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  8. Okay first off, great post. I had to stop reading for a moment after this part:

    "even though it's clearly directed primarily at women, as they are statistically much more likely to become pregnant, it doesn't exclude male readers at all."

    hilarious! As for the part about the milkshakes, no way dude!!! I'm so glad that our version of the book didn't contain that. I probably would have gotten pissed and threw the book away.

    Onto my story. Like you, I was given a book. I want to say maybe 4th or 5th grade. I read it, never paid it much attention and just put it on the bookshelf. Then about 7th grade or so, I decided that it was time to experiment with "pleasuring myself" (don't give me the perv badge) only problem is I had no idea how. I remembered that a section in that book talked about masterbation so I dug it out and got to reading. Lo and behold, it helped me get on track! A few years later when it was time for the real thing, I figured hey, the book worked pretty well last time, maybe it'll help me with sex as well. Yeah, that didn't work out so well. It made no mention of how to prevent it from being over so quickly!

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  9. My husband was all packed up and heading off to drive 4 hours away and spend his first night in the college dorm when his mother stopped him in the driveway and handed him a book. She said "I've had this for awhile and I kept meaning to give it to you." He looked down and it was a sex-ed book for tweens, complete with comic book style pictures and very simple text. Obviously she'd been "meaning to give it to him" for 8 years. All he could muster in reply was: "Thanks."
    It's amazing he hadn't impregnated 5 girls by then. Or maybe he did. He doesn't know since he still hasn't read the book.

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  10. I know how not to get pregnant- date the men I date who think babies are fungus. done.

    I don't need the book, but I couldn't resist commenting.

    I went to Christian school. in 6th grade, all the Jr High kids had to go to an assembly in the chapel to learn about AIDS and sex (it was the nineties). this must have been painful for my Christian school teachers but I think it was California law. they told us how AIDS spreads and told us to not have sex. not how sex works. not how to protect ourselves. just don't have sex. then the boys had to leave the room and they asked the girls if we had any questions. we were all too scared to ask any (mostly scared of dying of AIDS). then they handed out individual maxi pads and deodorant samples. then we went back to class. thus concludes my sex ed.

    good thing I was friends with so many boys and learned all sorts of stuff entirely too young just from listening to them. how is it boys always know this stuff first?

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  11. I went to a Catholic school that started us off with hellfire and brimstone, then led into how babies are made--by married couples only, who had been given a sacramental blessing that turned the filthy, dirty, heinous act into a miracle. Not a miracle pure enough for the Mother of God, but still, at least not a sin for married people, if they were trying to efficiently make a baby for Jesus and didn't enjoy it too much.

    After the vague scare tactics about not touching or thinking about one's dirty bits came a highly clinical lesson that we were supposed to read with our parents, starting in third grade. I read the chapters with my parents and didn't understand all the big words or eerie insinuations, but I dutifully asked no questions, so as not to seem too interested in those dirty bits.

    In particular, I confused the words "masturbation" and "menstruation." One day, I heard some older girls giggling outside the school bathroom, joking that another girl who was taking too long in there was probably "masturbating" and damning herself to hell. On another occasion, I heard mean gossip about a girl who came out of a stall with blood on her hands because she had been "menstruating." The girls talking about it wrinkled up their noses and made retching sounds.

    I failed to distinguish between the two words, and somehow in my mind I had concluded that the M-word was when a girl touched herself down there, and God made her bleed out of the crotch and die and go to hell.

    Until I got the words straightened out, that was scarier than the Bloody-Mary-in-the-bathroom-mirror legend.

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  12. I have several fun sex ed stories. I'll start with mine.

    My mother educated me about sex when I was in the 5th grade. She said that when a boy and girl get close...really, REALLY close...they have a baby.

    I refused to stand next to a boy in the lunch line until I got to high school (yes, I was sheltered and clueless) where my friend Wendy explained to me what was really going on. Thank God for Wendy.

    I was determined not to let the same thing happen to my daughter. When she started talking and discovering her body, I made sure to tell her the actual, grown-up scientific names for all her body parts.

    I thought I was so much better, smarter, and way more hip than my mother who never even acknowledged that we had private body parts.

    This backfired big time when my daughter was 3 and sitting in the grocery cart at a very crowded grocery store. As we made our way to the check out line, she stood up, grabbed her crotch and said in that glass cutting toddler voice, "my vagina itches!!!"

    I just smiled and said, "good thing your mother isn't here or she'd be embarrassed".

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  13. Here's another story about my daughter's sex education.

    One morning as I was putting on my makeup, my daughter (again, around 3 years old) was standing next to me, holding her stuffed purple Barney the dinosaur and sucking on her 2 middle fingers as was her signature.

    She asked, "mommy, when will I grow a tail?"

    I looked at her and saw that she was studying Barney's tail so I replied, "oh sweetie, people don't grow tails like dinosaurs do".

    She gave me an emphatic, "YES THEY DO!!!"

    I calmly replied, "no, baby, they don't. Animals have tails, people don't."

    Again she fiercely said, "Yes they do!! Daddy has a tail, I saw it right here!" And she pointed to Barney's crotch.

    I finished applying my makeup and we went out and bought everyone bathrobes.

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  14. And yet one more way we have warped our child:

    I always tried to answer my daughter's questions honestly and when the questions got harder I bought all kinds of books with all kinds of pictures and by the time she was in the 6th grade, I thought my kid had a pretty good understanding of the hows and whys of sex.

    As usual, I was wrong.

    One lazy Sunday afternoon, my daughter (around 12 years old now) fell asleep watching TV just as my husband gave me "the look".

    You don't get many chances for afternoon delight with kids in the house so we thought we'd take advantage of it since she was asleep.

    We went into our bedroom, shut the door tightly, and proceeded to do what mommies and daddies do. And I'm not talking swinging from the chandelier or anything, just the basics since we didn't want to wake the daughter.

    We heard a door slam and knew that sleeping beauty was awake so we did the "oh we were just napping too" routine.

    She didn't buy it. And she was pissed. Big time. It was almost a full day before I could even get her to tell me what was wrong.

    Finally, she said, "I HEARD YOU!" I had no clue what she was talking about but after several hours of comforting, begging, bribing, I finally learned that she had heard her mommy and daddy having sex.

    We all know how disturbing it can be to picture your parents in the act so I tried to be sympathetic with her and explained to her that we do that because we love each other, blah, blah, blah.

    I reminded her that we'd talked about all this before and I thought she understood that this is what mommies and daddies do when they love each other.

    She said she knew all that and that wasn't why she was mad. She was mad because evidently I hadn't adequately explained the mechanics of it to her.

    She said, "I didn't know there was so much motion involved!!!"

    Under my breath and with clenched teeth I said to my husband, "I told you you were making too much noise!"

    His clenched teeth whisper reply was, "you were the one doing all the moaning!"

    I felt so awful. I guess in my attempt to help her avoid premarital sex (for as long as possible anyway) I failed to explain to her the pleasure and intimacy part of it all.

    I thought, oh my god she was just going to lay there and think of England!

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  16. Well mine isn't very exciting, but I'll share it anyway.

    My cousin Ashley (who is three years older than me) and I used to play barbies all the time. When I was about 7, she started developing this odd habit of stripping down the barbie and ken and making them dry hump each other. Sometimes she liked to let them go at it in a bowl of water so I suppose it wasn't ALL dry. Anyway, she told me that babies were made that way and for awhile I was convinced that men had a smooth, relatively flat genital area. Shrug. I don't want to talk about how I found out otherwise. Shudder.

    Then, of course, I learned the real stuff from my dad's dirty magazines and my 5th grade sex ed assembly. Good times. They didn't let us ask questions...probably because Dixie Freeman threw up when they started talking about period blood.

    My mother never mentioned sex to me until I was 16 years old. "You know about..."

    "Yeah", I said.

    "Ugh. Oh that's just great. I have to go lie down now."

    I still bring up this conversation when she wants to complain about what a "whore bag" I was. "You do realize it was your fault, right? Hey...mom. Say VAGINA."

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  17. No sex ed in school ~ different country, different culture.

    Just wanted to post that when I played the video of Cobra screeching my two dogs jumped off the sofa, ears all perked up. No wonder your pooch is on prozac ;~)

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  18. My husband and I got engaged while we were away together at school. (18 years old at the time.) The next time we were in town, we had a celebratory dinner at my father's house. My dad is a 30-year Army Veteran who hardly says a word and intimidates the shit out of people.

    When he cleared his throat to give a toast, I was shocked because he is so introvert. Instead of a typical "Welcome to the family, congratulations" speech my dad asked in front of my entire family, fiance and in-laws-to-be if I needed to have the "birds-and-the-bees" convo. Then he proceeded to go into detail before I could interrupt him to tell him my mom had beat him to the punch about 10 years before.

    My brother-in-law quickly pipped in that it was probably "way to late" for that speech. I was mortified; however, everyone just giggled and took it as a joke (even though I am pretty sure my dad was dead serious.)

    Four years later and we are expecting our first...

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  19. I'm pulling for cancer boobs and Genie of the Catholic School Mystery.

    Me? I was eight. I was in the car with my mom when a country song came on the radio (maybe Merle Haggard's "Okie from Muskogee's Comin' Home" with a line about making love over the telephone. I was at an age when I asked questions not to learn something new but to confirm my own correctness. I thought the singer might have meant that he was saying "I love you" over the telephone and he really meant it. I was not correct. My mom let me know how not correct I was by using the words "penis" and "vagina" more times in one conversation than even my Ob-Gyn has been able to best. Oh, and that penis and that vagina? They had to love each other first. I remember that, too.

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  20. I learned about sex from a neighbor girl who babysitted me when I was 5. She didn't explain much but just told me that the boys parts went inside the girls parts. Then I learned more than I ever wanted to about how to have sex when my neighbors found some of my older brother's unlabeled porn. Thinking it was just a regular DVD we put it in to see what was on it. There are things you can never quite scrub from memory and I was only like 10.

    the What To Expect books are the best though. I got pregnant at 17 and I don't know if I would have handled it as well without that book.

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  21. Unlike a lot of my friends growing up, my mom never held back. She was very vocal, and when I didn't fully let her know that I understood what she was saying, she would draw me a picture.
    One such moment included a road trip when I was probably only about 9 years old. She didn't think that I was understanding what she was talking about, so ... speeding down the highway, she pulls out a pad of paper and starts drawing some highly-questionable pictures out for me .... in order to better understand the human anatomy :)

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  22. I learned about the actual "delivery method" during a Girl Scout presentation. We all arrived with our Mothers. They sat in chairs and we sat on the floor in front of them. I just remember the speaker walking around making this hand motion. The fingers of her left hand made a circle and her pointer and middle finger of her right hand kept going in and out of the circle as she talked. I remember looking back at my Mom and asking "REALLY?????" She just smiled and nodded.

    My daughter however...had it all figured out at the tender age of 5. I overheard her playing with her dragon figures.

    Dragon 1: "Hey...guess what! I'm pregnant!"
    Dragon 2: "really? How did that happen?"
    Dragon 1: "well, the male sat of me and fertalized me and pretty soon a baby is going to come out of my bottom!"

    THANK YOU ANIMAL PLANET! I actually called her PRE-SCHOOL teacher to let her know just in case she was "that kid" spreading the word on the playground! Geesh!

    I happened to be pregnant with our youngest at the time and I was just waiting for her to ask me "Mom...did Daddy sit on you?" Thankfully she never did!

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  23. What a great bunch of stories! So many explanations for lifelong sexual dysfunction. I love it. Please keep them coming.

    BTW, Elly Lou--there is nothing boring about a mustachioed sperm. In fact, thank you for the halloween costume idea.

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  25. There was no sex ed when I was in school. I went to public school but was raised Catholic.

    My mother read Dr. Spock and his advice to parents about all things involving breasts and genitals was if the kid didn't ask, don't tell. I never asked about anything. She never told me anything.

    My parents married because my mom was pregnant at 18. My sister got pregnant just before her 18th birthday. No one ever mentioned it until she was about 8 months along.

    Bottom line? I have no clue how I even knew where babies came from. I sure breathed much easier when I hit 19 and somehow managed to skip god's love and not be struck pregnant by immaculate conception.

    My sister's daughter also got pregnant at 18. I'm holding my breath that her 18 year old son doesn't get anyone pregnant. He'll be 19 in December. The tension is killing me.

    I don't want any of these books. If I win it, the kid's sure to knock up some girl. I just know it.

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  26. 5th grade Sex Ed has secured itself the prestigious lifetime achievement award for “Most Embarrassing Moment”. Nothing in the 20 years since that fateful day has EVER come close and I can honestly say that nothing ever will. In fact, if I wasn’t planning on getting knocked up in the next year and actually interested in reading about the horrific and unbelievable things that will soon be occurring inside my body (eek!) I would not be volunteering this story. Thank God for internet anonymity.

    Sex Ed started with the girls from my 5th grade class leaving and joining the 5th grade girls next door, filling in the seats that the boys left. I was unlucky enough to get a seat next to the meanest girl in the 5th grade. This chick picked fights with boys (and dressed like them) and was someone I avoided at all costs on the playground. She could always cut in line at the water fountain and never was I ever caught making eye contact. But I digress. My unlucky seat was only the beginning of the horror.

    Sex Ed was a subject that invoked a strange combination of fear and excitement. As the lights went down and the video projector started, that “fear and excitement” soon turned into “fear and fear.” As the generic female voice talked about developing breasts and changing bodies, blah, blah, blah. I could feel my face heating up. Then she started talking about periods. Blood. Monthly. It will happen to you. And that’s when I fainted. I fainted and fell backwards on top of the meanest girl in school during Sex Ed.

    How one is expected to recover from that, I don’t know. But I do know that the humiliation didn’t stop there. I came to lying on the classroom floor surrounded by teachers, paramedics, and the school nurse. To add insult to injury, I had peed in my pants. Of course, the school immediately called my emergency contact who happened to be my stay-at-home mom, who should have been home with her other 3 kids and instead was oddly absent. After going down the list of emergency contacts they finally got to what must have been 15th on the list - my extremely socially awkward and anything-but-motherly grandma, who picked me up with a spare pair of her nude granny underwear. I was actually more comfortable leaving on the ones I had peed in than wearing or even touching those.

    After making it home and being tucked in bed to recover, I started plotting to never return to school again. Unfortunately, my mom’s assessment was that I was fine other than being "too sensitive" and I was packed off to school again the next day to be stared at by fellow students and teachers alike. People whispered, pointed and giggled. I was beet red all day.

    I spent the rest of that week in the library during Sex Ed since I hadn’t been singled out and humiliated enough and to my surprise my infamy traveled so that my 6th grade teacher also opted to send me to the library during Sex Ed and eliminate any risk of that fainting thing happening again. In 7th grade, I moved on to a different school and thought I had left the past behind when one day while in the girl’s P.E. locker room, the scariest girl from the 5th grade said loud enough for the whole room to hear “Hey, aren’t you the girl that passed out in Sex Ed?” Which made the whole room snicker. I thought to myself “you haven’t been kicked out of school yet???” and resigned myself to the fact that I will always be the girl that passed out in Sex Ed.

    Maybe it is time to graduate to “the girl that passed out reading WTEWYE.”

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  27. So yes, this is way too fucking long, but apparently I still have a lot of shit I'm working through ok!

    I haven't read ALL the other comments on here, but I think my experience was fucked up enough that I oughta get a book. Especially considering that The Wife and I are expecting to be expecting to be expecting in a year or less. (yipe)

    It came in two waves. First of all, I was, -just like Dr. Mom- also not sent to sex ed with all the other kids. In fact, I wasn't sent to history or science either. I was home-schooled. And yeh, despite the odds, I think I turned out pretty fuckin normal so stop staring at me. In fact my social skills routinely got me mocked at home-school groups because I was the freak that didn't spend all my time playing D&D and watching the original star trek.

    Aaanyway, the homeschooling part wasn't bad. What WAS bad was that when I was very young (2-7) my mom was a natural child birth and Lamaze INSTRUCTOR. And what does every good instructor keep close at hand but not under lock and key? Their teaching materials. My hippy mom, for whatever insane reason, after poppin me out in the upstairs bedroom of our farm house, decided that childbirth is the most magical and beautiful thing that a human being can participate in. I'm sure I'll agree as soon as a tiny sticky human with my DNA falls into my hands. However, this "miracle" holds no relevance to a 6 year old boy.

    One day I was playing in my mom ’s room, as I was wont to do, blissfully unaware that I was about to skip 35 years of research and development and jump straight to the punch line. The Mom had traveled most of the world with a pocket knife and a toothpick in the years before I unexpectedly arrived in her uterus (my timing has always been questionable), so it was not uncommon for the floor of her room to be littered with little boxes of color slides which we would organize into countries of origin and talk about how in some countries people don't use toilet paper but instead wipe with a hand and then smear the shit on the wall. (I learned early that in these countries it's important to remember at all times WHICH hand does that particular job and which hand does everything else. [like high fives]) I opened the box and extracted the slides, curious what country they were from. To my surprise, the slides were actaully from HOLYFUCKINGSHITOHMYFUCKINGGODWHATTHEFUCKISTHATland. I don't actually remember in detail what my virgin eyes beheld. I think I had a mild stroke, but I know I sat for about 3 years or a couple minutes and looked at the slides strewn on the ground like tiny concentrated CSI episodes. The veil was drawn back and my eyes had been opened (and cauterized). I had gone from absolute and total, (in the garden of Eden level) innocence to a realization so intense it has made grown men faint.

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  28. So, YES this got waaay too fucking long, apparently I'm still working through a lot of shit okay?!

    I haven't read ALL the other comments on here, but I think my experience was fucked up enough that I oughta get a book. Especially considering that The Wife and I are expecting to be expecting to be expecting in a year or less. (yipe)

    It came in two waves. First of all, I was, -just like Dr. Mom- also not sent to sex ed with all the other kids. In fact, I wasn't sent to history or science either. I was home-schooled. And yeh, despite the odds, I think I turned out pretty fuckin normal so stop staring at me. In fact my social skills routinely got me mocked at home-school groups because I was the freak that didn't spend all my time playing D&D and watching the original star trek.

    Aaanyway, the homeschooling part wasn't bad. What WAS bad was that when I was very young (2-7) my mom was a natural child birth and Lamaze INSTRUCTOR. And what does every good instructor keep close at hand but not under lock and key? Their teaching materials. My hippy mom, for whatever insane reason, after poppin me out in the upstairs bedroom of our farm house, decided that childbirth is the most magical and beautiful thing that a human being can participate in. I'm sure I'll agree as soon as a tiny sticky human with my DNA falls into my hands. However, this "miracle" holds no relevance to a 6 year old boy.

    ReplyDelete
  29. One day I was playing in my mom ’s room, as I was wont to do, blissfully unaware that I was about to skip 35 years of research and development and jump straight to the punch line. The Mom had traveled most of the world with a pocket knife and a toothpick in the years before I unexpectedly arrived in her uterus (my timing has always been questionable), so it was not uncommon for the floor of her room to be littered with little boxes of color slides which we would organize into countries of origin and talk about how in some countries people don't use toilet paper but instead wipe with a hand and then smear the shit on the wall. (I learned early that in these countries it's important to remember at all times WHICH hand does that particular job and which hand does everything else. [like high fives]) I opened the box and extracted the slides, curious what country they were from. To my surprise, the slides were actaully from HOLYFUCKINGSHITOHMYFUCKINGGODWHATTHEFUCKISTHATland. I don't actually remember in detail what my virgin eyes beheld. I think I had a mild stroke, but I know I sat for about 3 years or a couple minutes and looked at the slides strewn on the ground like tiny concentrated CSI episodes. The veil was drawn back and my eyes had been opened (and cauterized). I had gone from absolute and total, (in the garden of Eden level) innocence to a realization so intense it has made grown men faint.

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  30. I was the Doogie Howser of Sex Ed. I skipped 18 levels of education and went straight to med school. When my eyes stopped ringing I put the slides back, holding each gory specimen with only fingernails, crime-scene style. Indeed a crime had been committed. A brutal and grizzly attack on the mind of an unsuspecting child by the cruel cruel world. That bastard. As I put the last slide away, my curiosity momentarily overtook my revulsion. (Kind of like poking a dead body with a stick) and I pried one eyelid open for one last glimpse of the horror my mother taught these poor women... wait, one slide
    had a familiarity to it. I looked closer.

    I should not have looked closer. Somewhere, hidden beneath the squinting eyes, the vein coiled red neck, the mouth agape and shrieking like a warlord, was... my mother's face? The 2 inch techno-color slide format instantly made it impossible not to notice simultaneously that just south of that raging banshee head, was my tiny head protruding from darkness to join in the banshee scream. I didn't make a sound, but silently deep inside, my soul joined in that shrieking agony for a split second before I slammed the lid down on the box of slides and vowed to never open another container in our house again. I ran. And with time the wound scarred and then healed over. I was a man, I had seen the holey of holies, i knew the secret of life. And I could not explain it to a soul.

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  31. My mother later tried to "help" by explaining the context of what I saw but all I really remember from that conversation is that some chicks EAT their own placenta. And you're probably gonna poop when you have a kid.

    Many years later when I was about 12 my mother married my step father and we moved off the washington farm to a little condo in California. It had a shared bathroom. The kind that connects by a door at each end leading into a different bedroom.

    I awoke one morning, to an indistinct rhythmic thumping. I jumped out of bed to relieve the racehorse size piss I had accumulated through a night of dreaming of what consistency a breast might be made of. Charging into the bathroom as I always did, I found This time the connecting door was open. I stepped over to close it (being of an age where I was particularly fond of privacy) and was smashed in the face by the truck sized imagery of my step father, (whom I still had territorial beef with) just smashin my mom. This was only for a split second and blurred because my eyeballs actually threw up a litle, and but the damage was done. I knew my real estate case was lost. In fact I didn't really want the property anymore.

    The bright side was that due to my previous psychological damage, my brain had developed a callous so gnarly it made Bruce Lee's hands look like babyskin. So the sting of this new horror faded in mere hours and soon I was back to trolling the docks and punchin hookers like a normal 12 year old kid. So I don't think it really had any lasting effect. The end.

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  32. Okay, I'd really like to win this book so I don't have to buy it (again). I gave away the copy that I bought during my first pregnancy and I'm pregnant again but clueless. Mom-brain.

    I don't remember ever having sex ed. At school we were told all about STDs and we were instructed how to put on condoms, but as for what sex is all about -- nada. And my parents never brought up sex and I certainly wasn't going to ask any questions.

    The first time I had sex I was so clueless -- I didn't even know what an ORGASM was. I didn't have one of course, but I don't think I even waited for the guy to finish. It was so bad, after a few minutes I was bored and done with it.

    I know it's not a great story, but I'd love to win this book.

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  33. BTW, everytime I play a vid or BB&C my normal VERY mellow lazy dogs jump up and race around searching for the baby making that noise. maybe its not the dog, maybe you're kids hit some perfect psychotic clockwork orange dog note.

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  34. I vote for Peter! (Peter, my dogs did the exact same thing ~ must be perfect pitch, I commented on it earlier)

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  35. I was hoping not to have to re-live the humiliation of my sex ed story, but for a free book I guess I'll spill:

    The early sex ed for us in 5th grade was pretty uneventful - I seem to recall being pretty familiar with the material thanks to a book my mom gave me with cartoon pictures.

    Grade 9 sex ed was a different story. Our girls health class contained girls ranging from not having a clue to being very experienced - I was somewhere in the middle. I recall my cheeks flaming with embarrassment for most of the week long sex ed section. I remember the class being asked, "raise your hand if you are sexually active." TOTALLY humiliating. I sweated through in-depth discussion about std's, masturbation, what to do INSTEAD of intercourse (and how to do it) - you get the idea.

    On the day we were getting familiar with methods of birth control, I clearly remember fumbling to put a condom on a banana just to look over at my neighbor to watch her expertly roll the condom down with her mouth. I was way over my head.

    That same day our teacher was randomly selecting volunteers to practice with other methods - the sponge, diaphragm, female condom. It was all pretty foreign to me. So naturally I get called up to deal with the spermicidal foam.

    The idea was to fill the applicator with the foam, which came in a can like mouse or whipped cream. My hands trembling with the pressure of being watched by 30 of my peers, I pressed down the dispenser...and launched the applicator like a bottle rocket. It bounced off the ceiling, and the can errupted like a volcano painting me, my teacher, and the ceiling tiles with spermicidal foam. The class roared with laughter and I nearly died of embarassment. If there was a hole nearby, I would have gladly crawled in and remained there until graduation.

    On the bright side, the ceiling tiles were safely protected from any sperm that may have found it's way up there during the boys health class the following period.

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  36. Ah yes, anonymous questions for the teacher. I still recall, with blinding hilarity, when my classmate Tracy asked our PE teacher (Mr. Dave) if pubic hair was supposed to be curly or if some people had to curl it.

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  37. I don't remember much, if anything, about sex ed in school.

    I do remember at 10-years-old, my weekend mother told my nipples were showing and handed me two training bras. We never spoke of sex after that.

    Six years later, my step-mother, after watching me eat a burrito, turned to my father and said, "She's given a blow job." We had never spoken of anything sexual prior to this, and haven't done so since.

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  38. This stuff is gold!

    @Pete--as soon as I saw "home-schooled" I was like, this will not end well. And then you threw in "child birth instructor" and a single tear rolled down my leathery cheek for you.

    Keep it coming!

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  39. I hate this fucking book more than any pregnancy book on the market. I guess a guy has to make a buck, huh?

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  40. @Sylvia--You would not believe the cash I'm raking in from this deal! How many books can I send you?

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  41. The fucked up part dude, is that i never actually had sex ed, it was just like, something would come up, my mom would lay some heavy gnarly knowledge on me in factoid form like it was nothing and we would go on with our day. Like, oh yeh, chicks just bleed for a week. its normal, wanna see a tampon/slideshow? no? okay, how bout some more oatmeal.

    There's probably endless stories of how many awkward situations my callous,desensitized outlook on said topics caused me with peers throughout my youth. I just never understand why everyone was SO fucking twitterpated about the whole thing, I just thought it was sort of horrifying to know the body did that, whatev.

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  42. Great pitch salesman! Hehe... these books are actually great for academics like me. They turn normal, heartfelt experiences into scientific experiments that I can understand with my mechanical and simplistic mind.

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  43. brother -- i'm not here to enter the contest, but rather to congratulate you on a FANTASTIC giveaway. you're engaging all get out, and i reading your post, and then all these stories, was a delight!

    WELL DONE, beta dad.

    ReplyDelete
  44. I have been stopping by your blog ever since your illustrious "Blog of Note" designation, and you never disappoint. Another hilarious post. I laughed out loud when I read the part about enjoying a milkshake with your spouse rather than intercourse. That is good stuff. You are a very skilled writer, and very funny. Keep it up.

    But seriously, I don't need the book, in fact I am awaiting the finalization of my divorce and therefore am farther away from needing this book than ever. But, I had to comment anyway. The only thing that I remember from sex ed class that made me chuckle, was the insistence of a classmate of mine named Faith that her parents had only had sex twice, once to make her and once to make her brother. I remember the class as a whole laughing in unison at her. That's all I got.

    Marisa
    http://theimmaturematron.blogspot.com/

    ReplyDelete
  45. Because I was born with a science-oriented mind, my mother thought the best way to teach me about sex was for me to discover it through reading. She bought me a biology book in which chapter 16 explained everything (Here, read this, she said). It showed how a penis looked when it was erect, explaining why I stayed a virgin until I was in college. The best part about this enthralling book was the part that graphed how a woman's orgasm looks. It even says that women can have multiple orgasms but need to wait 2 to 3 minutes after they peak, but not more than 5 so they don't lost the momentum. Maybe I will let my husband read that.

    P.S. My son loves watching the videos of your girls. He calls them 'Coba' and 'Bunner bean'. HA!

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  46. I can still hear the theme song to a very dated sex ed movie they made us start with, "There's a New You Coming Every Day," which made me laugh uncontrollably while everyone else looked like they were in hell.

    They the PE teacher asked for anonymous questions and I submitted like 10 just to be a jackass. (Had to be careful to modify the handwriting.) Questions like:
    Q: Why are some people straight and some gay?
    A: Can't answer that.

    Q: Is it possible for a man to have only X or Y sperm?
    A: Interesting question. I don't know.

    Q: Why does masturbation hurt so much?
    A: What?? If that's the case, you really need to talk to your Dad.

    This went on for about 5 minutes until the doofus realized that he'd only seen a couple other guys submit questions, yet still had quite a pile to work through. So he stopped.

    I'm grateful I never had to teach me.

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  47. I'm crossing my fingers Shannon Green wins a book...or two. I don't want or need a book...but if I win, I donate it to Dr. Mom's free clinic.

    My European mother was also a Dr. Spock devotee, "don't ask, don't tell".

    Well, I asked "where do babies come from" when I was a toddler and immediately got a full explanation with diagrams...waaay too much information. Still, thanks to my over-zealous mom, my younger sister and I both knew more than the scientists from the moment we gurgled "babies?".

    Fast forward 30 years when my (married 6 years) sister was pregnant with her first and only child...she told me "it was an accident" - WTF?!

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  48. wow, I have never seen so many "comment deleted by author" notes on a page! haha.

    I'm also guessing that the one comment all in asian characters is like the most epic, mother of all sex ed stories and I cant read it!

    Sylvia! Stop drinkin that haterade sister. damn. did WTEWYE molest you in fourth grade or something?

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  49. Wow, this blog sure has blowed up over the last couple of weeks!

    I don't have any stories that could compare with the ones others have written. You have a tough decision ahead of you, Beta Dad!

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  50. I don't have babies, might never have babies, but I do have many embarrassing sexy-time stories, but can't seem to think of any sex-ed stories...so I'll spare you.

    But I always love your blog. :)

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  51. Well...I just wanted to say I just bought this book last night...so I wont be needing the contest :) Thanks for the insight before I crack it open!

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  52. You mean people actually learned valuable lessons in sex ed??? I must have had everything go in one ear and out the other...

    Long story short, one of my ex boyfriends had me completely convinced that getting an erection hurt... and because I am so loving and caring, I would jump on, or to, the task at hand, and make sure he did not "suffer" any longer than needed...

    We split, I dated, fell in love with someone else, and got engaged. After MONTHS of being together, he asked me why I "never say NO" and I related the previous story to him. He told me the truth... and I promptly went and read some sex education books and started watching Dr.What's-her-name (the old woman who knew everything about sex).

    I still feel stupid about it, although I can laugh about it now!

    PS there are some pretty good stories out there so far! I was laughing so hard reading the other comments!!!

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  53. Not sure what I like more, the original post or the comments. Great stories.

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  54. For the longest time of my tiny childhood life, I was convinced you got pregnant by polishing your own pearl. Talk about a paranoid child. Had a lot of unnecessary early pregnancy scares in my life.

    I'm currently knocked up....not sure if it was a result of the husbanator or pretending to be my own personal DJ, but whatevs.

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  55. Hubby and I are having our last attempt at IVF soon, so hopefully I will be "Up the Duff" soon.

    I think WTEWYE should have a section for the men after each chapter titled "HOW TO NOT MAKE IT WORSE"

    My sex-ed didn’t come until year 7. Which involved the entire three year 7 classes amassed in one area, with all our parents, watching hideously embarrassing videos about periods and erections, reading pamphlets about std's (like the videos hadn’t scared us off yet), then a Q & A at the end, with the anonymous questions put into a hat, or barrel...I can't remember what. 'Twas a night to forget.

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  56. A new moto website was launched: http://www.moto-vids.com

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  57. Well, I guess I'll share my story for anyone that happens to read down this far. As for me my parents were very very closed off. They didn't talk about anything with us. Everything I ever learned was mainly from books (Health books I would look into myself) or from my sister-in-laws. The only conversation I had with my mother was the day before my wedding. I asked her if she was going to give me any sort of talk and I found it awkward enough that I was the one who had to bring it up. She simply said "No, my mother didn't tell my anything and so I wasn't planning on telling you anything." I was stunned to say the least. I was greatful that I had already taken 2 college courses that dealt with marriage and health that I still felt like I would be fine. My sister-in-laws were great too. I was able to ask them anything and luckily they stepped in on that part of parenting because I can't imagine ignoring the subject of sex for my own kids.

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  58. Woo hoo! What a great way to start the week! How do I claim my book?

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  59. I know I'm totally late but I don't need a book anyway. I have them all and they are good reference books, but read cover-to-cover turn me into a total hypochondriac.

    My first intro to the birds and the bees was from my best friend in 5th grade: a black Jehovah's Witness. I think she just shared the information so I wouldn't feel so bad that she had to throw out the birthday card I gave her.

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