As the token Canuck in the group, I find it kinda funny this is not the first time I’ve been the one to post on an American holiday. Still, I hope you’ll accept my best wishes for you all today.

Happy fourth of July!

Today most of you are likely heading off to BarBQ’s, or at least hanging out with family or friends. If you’re like me, you’ll eye the food once, thinking oooh, that’s not good. And then you’ll eat anyway.

I’m going to admit my very least favourite thing about me is: My fingers. They’re weird. They sort of twist at the upper knuckle like they’ve all been broken at some point. They’re just ugly, and short of wearing gloves forever, there’s no way of hiding it. The capper is that I have beautiful nails which naturally have a french-manicure sort of colouring to them.

I have the usual issues: my bum’s kinda big, my thighs are, too. I have that bit of waddle under my arms that continues waving to people even when I’ve finished. But none of that bothers me. (Sometimes, sure. Like when Angelina Jolie’s latest movie trailer comes on, and hubby’s tongue near falls out of his mouth.) But for the most part, I’m really comfortable with who I am. My body is (for the most part) the thing which carries me from one place to another, and I think who I am is more important than how I look.

My favourite things about me are odd, too. (Yeah, you’re surprised) One is a scar I have on my shoulder from when I was burned with coffee as a child. This stupid scar was the bane of my existence growing up. People would stare. Ask if it hurt. (er, it was 12 years old at that point. If it still hurt, we had bigger issues.) I hated that thing, and when I was told I was a candidate for cosmetic surgery for it once I’d stopped growing, I was eager to stop growing. But I’ve never had the surgery. Because I’ve rather grown used to it. And it’s made me a stronger person. And without it, I’d never have learned to read as young as I did (I had to stay inside a lot that year, and I was only 2. I was reading well by the time I was 3) And without that foundation I’m not sure I’d have wanted to be a writer. So it’s so tied up with who and what I am…erasing it at this point would be like erasing a part of my soul. (which sounds much more melodramatic than I intended.)

My second thing is a freckle I have. On my upper lip. I never really paid it much mind, but my husband finds it absolutely adorable, and as a result, I rather like it, too.

So it’s love/hate your body week here on TNG. Sorry I’m late to the party. I forgot it was Thursday and therefore my turn! I’m going to start with what I hate because it’s actually a shorter list lol. I’m carrying much more weight than I’m comfortable with right now. I keep saying I’m going to start running again, take care of this, but it hasn’t happened.

See the weight isn’t all bad. When I’m thinner I’m very flat chested. Now? Cleavage, baby. I’m really liking that part and Army Guy ain’t complaining either.

Also on the love list is my hair. It’s waist length and kind of an auburny-brown-red color. Not too thick, but not thin and has enough curl to make it interesting but I can blow dry it stick straight if I feel the urge.

And it wouldn’t seem right not to mention tattoos. (Why hasn’t anyone else??) I love my tats and because I love them, it makes it easier to love my body.

(And I’ll put some positives in just to keep with Crystal’s theme. Promise. )

In my case, “things about my body I hate” — well, if we’re going to talk functionality, the whole fibromyalgia deal tops the list. I could do quite well without that, thanks very much. If, however, we’re looking at pure aesthetics, I’ll just repeat most other women in saying, “My weight.”

It’s not that I have a problem with overweight women. Hell, one of my ex-girlfriends was a plus size woman, and she’s gorgeous. But, I’m at that uncomfortable weight between “average” and “plus”, where there really seems to be a dearth of decently-fitting clothes. (Specifically, skirts and pants. Argh. I can find plenty of stretchy shirts, but they don’t seem to make anything else in that material, and I rather doubt the rest of the world wants to see me walking around in a top and underwear. ^_^)

It’s also basically impossible from my hormone problems for me to lose weight, yet because of my insulin resistance, I really should. Sigh. Gotta love the catch-22s.

My best feature? My eyes. Growing up, my mom used to tell me I had “Egyptian eyes” because of the slight curvature and long eyelashes. Apparently, her eyes were similar when she was a kid but she grew out of them (not to mention singing half her lashes off), and she always said the shape would probably change when I was 16 or 17. Since I’m now 23 and this hasn’t happened, I’m going to assume I’m safe.

Are these the bodies of lazy slobs, couch potatoes, closet bingers? Are these statues versions of ancient Before photos, showing what we used to look like before we took hydroxycut or phen phen or lived on grapefruit juice, desperately trying to copy those air-brushed hotties or metabolistically speedy freaks who look fantastic in string bikinis?

No.

These are images of the goddess. Images that were worshipped by men. Worshipped for the curve of their thighs and the ample sensuality of her breasts. Diefied for the fertility in her hips, promising the richness of the crop and the miracle of new life, season after season.

Does this knowledge make me feel better about myself as I lie across my bed, red faced from wrestling a stubborn zipper? Not at all. I too, am a victim of our obsession with body image. At least I didnt come of age in the 70’s when Twiggy was considered a sexpot. I may have drowned myself in double fudge chocolate ice cream.

I’ve always been pleasantly plump, and being a writer is 50% creativity, 50% sitting, so I’ve gained substantial  posterior on my journey.  I now flop in places I should bounce, and jiggle in places I should…well…NOT.

But I’m trying to logic myself out of my depression. As a teenager I just wanted to be hot. Now? I just want to be strong and healthy. I love my husband and my life and I want to experience it for as long as I can, in as good health as I can. So I’m working out in order to ensure that future.

And I’m trying to remember the goddess. The paragon of femininity who is not ashamed of her body, who revels in her voluptuous repose. And reminding myself that beauty is not static, and that we are all the goddess, in our own, unique way.

So this week’s theme is about physical insecurities. We all have them; we all wish we could change things about the way we look.

This came to my attention from a recent discussion on Romance Divas about plus-sized heroines. Some people didn’t like big heroines because they felt they had too many “issues.”

Here’s a snippet of my response to that thread:

body image issues and problems with self-confidence are not the purview of plus sized women. There’s no person, no matter what their size, who doesn’t have things they dislike about themselves physically. Two of the most gorgeous women I know, Lillian Feisty and Eden Bradley, have both complained to me about things they hate about their appearance, things that make them feel less confident, less attractive, less sexy than they want to be.

I’ve written several plus sized heroines, some had body issues, some didn’t. ALL of them had issues of some kind or other, because every person has to constantly grow. I just want to point out that not all plus sized women loathe themselves and shoving all your characters into that stereotype makes for cookie-cutter characterization. There’s more to people than their weight, and dwelling on that with plus sized characters is selling them short as PEOPLE, which is what you want your readers to believe, that these could be real people they empathize with.

So I wanted our discussion this week to be one thing we love about our looks and one thing we hate. No matter how gorgeous we are, there’s always one or ten things we’d like to change, and I think that’s important to bring up…and to bring out in our writing. People are people, they have insecurities, they have issues, so I’m keepin’ it real with that this week.

Thing I Hate: I have shelf-butt. You know how you’ve seen women with big booties that really stick out and are almost flat on top, like you could set a drink there and it wouldn’t tip over and spill? Yeah, I have one of those. Also, it makes it a total bitch to find jeans that fit right without having that gap in the back where the jeans don’t come back in to hug my waist because the shelf-butt goes out so far.

Thing I Love: Dude, I have bad-ass awesome hair. It’s curly. Naturally curly. And not frizzy or poofy at all with a little mousse. I have the lowest maintenance hair on the planet, and it looks like I spend hours a day on it and spend a fortune to make it as pretty as it is. I lurrrrrv it.

In my most recent release “Resisting Command”, DNA manipulation plays a big part in the plot.  It began with an idea.

What if there was a “genetic war” where two alien species vied for dominance through genetic manipulation?  What if humans had been space travelers long before the twentieth century and spawned a whole new race of people that look NOTHING like humans?

My newest hero,  who is featured in the book I’m working on now, has been genetically changed through DNA manipulation.  He wants to be part of this alien race and rejects his human origins.  It’s dangerous and almost gets him killed.  Ultimately, he must face the truth.  That he allowed himself to be used by an alien to avoid facing his reality.

To me, genetic splicing is all about control.  We genetically change our food to feed more.  We genetically enhance our animals-through natural selection or in the lab, the results are the same.  Look what we’ve done with dog breeding?  The idea that we can use a lab to “make life easier” has its good points and its dangers.

In a way, I agree with Dayna.  We are arrogant.  We often find new ways to interfere with nature, but we rarely know the consequences.  But then, the strides we’ve made against disease and hunger are truly amazing and essential to our survival.

As with everything else, it’s a balance.  In my books, I can explore the “what ifs” with the only long suffering being my characters.  Real life scientists explore them with much larger implication.

All in all, I sometimes wonder if we know what we’re doing.  I always think of the Chinese curse, “May you live in interesting times.”  We certainly do.

this week. Awesome topic Crystal.

I’m a Christian. Yep, I said it. I believe in God. Heaven. Hell. The Bible. The Ten Commandments. All of that stuff. It was my upbringing and nothing profound has happened in my life to alter my perception of that fact.

However, I also say…to each his/her own. Live “your” life the way you want. I have never and will never hold that against any one. I’m African American. There is too much stuff in my race’s history to hold “who” and “what” you are against you or judge you or be prejudiced against you. I absolutely love that everyone is different. I’ve already stated in a comment, how boring as hell would it be if everyone was the damn same. If there were too many blond haired/skinny/blue eyed OR light skinned/skinny/hazel eyed people in the world…I’d freaking go insane.

God, in his infinite wisdom meant for everyone to be different and for everyone to have a choice to be exactly who they want to be. Yes, some people were born with genetic frailties that make them even “more” different. To me, it’s all about differences. There are always two different sides to the coin. Black/White - Smart/Not So Smart - Those Who Can/Those Who Can’t - Those Who Will/Those Who Won’t.

If everyone were like me, there wouldn’t be a scientist or mathematician in the world. Who’d be around to save anybody then? Who would experiment and try to find cures for the diseases that our mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, suffer from? Again…it’s all about differences. There IS a reason for everything and everybody. Everyone has a purpose. Whether or not we like what that purpose is…good or bad…they are who they are.

Science, in itself, is about discovery. Giving people hope. I’d love a procedure or a drug that could get rid of all murderers, child abusers/molestors/pedofiles, diseases that effect children, deafness, blindness. But where do we cross the line? We’ve already agreed that humans are arrogant. When is too far…too far? When do we say stop? When do we say enough is enough?

In the end, if we’re not able to do this, I think we’ll destroy ourselves in the process of trying to find the perfect cure for everything that is wrong in the world.

Yeah, I said it. I think as human beings, we’re pretty damnd arrogant. I think it boils down to the passage in the Bible where God put us in charge…and we took it to mean we should use the earth in whatever way we see fit for our own benefit.

I know, harsh much?

But honestly…I’ve realised in my time being a  parent that taking care of something means putting it first, no matter what I might want. And when ut comes to the planet, we don’t.

We’ve got some messed up priorities, too…paying movie stars more than we pay doctors is a prime example.

So when it comes to genetic engineering…I think there is great potential in it…and once again, we’re screwing it up. Choosing gender? Please.Why not try to bring back some of the plant and animal life we’ve made extinct because it’s more important for there to be a few billion humans kicking around instead.

But I have a bias when it comes to kids and gender. My entire family wants girls. When I was pregnant with boy #1, I might’ve chosen to have a girl…til I saw his lil face. When I had boy #4…people kept saying “you want a girl, right?” And truthfully, it didn’t matter. Healthy mattered.The idea of missing out on any of my kids….the beautiful boys they are…because I was hung up on their plumbing just underscores for me how screwed up humans are.

All of the genetics conversation has been very interesting but everything I’d say has pretty much been covered! Thanks y’all.

It makes good subject matter for a book though. Obviously, I’m not the only one who thinks so since so many authors have written about the possibility of altering our genes intentionally and the benefits/repercussions of doing so. One of the most interesting takes I’ve seen is Charles Ingrid’s Marked Man and Last Recall. I loved both books. They’re set in a post-apocalyptic LA several generations after human’s dna was intentionally merged with several types of animals. That merging is what has enabled them to survive, and they realize that, but almost every major character in the books are completely wrapped up in finding a “pure” human, in returning the gene pool to what it once was. Some people are willing to go way too far to ensure that of course. Lots of fun stuff going on in these two books and I won’t give it at all away in case someone wants to check them out.

And speaking of unusual genetics, RG and I both have new releases tomorrow! Mine is Captured Moon: Lunar Mates Book 6. It’s about werewolf twins Rule and Lawe going after the woman of their dreams. The problem is she’s not sure she wants to be caught! It will be available from Cobblestone Press.

RG’s is Who Needs Another Superhero? the sequel to Who Wants to Date a Superhero? There is no one around but Rock to save the day when Dayna goes chasing after The Pearl of Isis and a story that could be the death of her. And when he gets his hands on her, all bets are off. Look for it tomorrow at Ellora’s Cave!

Crystal, you have picked a right doozy of a topic this week. *G*

Genetic manipulation is personal to me on multiple levels. I have been an avid science fiction/fantasy reader since I was nine years old, and as such, I have read many “cautionary tales” on the matter. There are so many things that could possibly go wrong with unchecked and long-term use of genetic manipulation that I am very concerned about the matter.

The question of simply boy vs. girl… well, while I can’t have children myself due to several medical conditions, I have to admit I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with a boy-child, and thus would prefer a girl if I could. However, that’s why they have adoption.

I don’t think that it is right on a moral level to manipulate the genes of a child after it is created. Partially, I wonder, would genetically altering its sex result in a transsexual child? Seeing as my ex-fiance was a preoperative female-to-male transsexual, that is an extremely hard road. There is so much more about gender than simply sex characteristics; they have actually found many differences between the male and female brain. So tampering with gender while the baby is “in progress” worries me, because the transgendered life path is a very difficult one to walk — and the sort of folk who would want to pre-select their baby’s gender aren’t, I think, liable to be overly supportive.

On another level, where does genetic manipulation stop? I know — or rather, I should say, I knew — someone who believes that “gifted” people are the future and that anything lesser is worthless. This person has actually spoken in favor of “wiping” people with certain mental disabilities from the gene pool. I ask, is that not eugenics? How is that different from what the Nazis tried to do in the Third World War?

Certainly, were I to have a child and find out that it would have a serious mental handicap, such as Downs’ Syndrome, I don’t think I could personally care for a child with those needs. There are other ones, however, that I would feel myself more prepared to handle, like ADHD or bipolar disorder. I, personally, would likely abort if I found out my child had Downs’. (Realistically speaking, if I found out I were pregnant at all, I’d be aborting. There are too many risks for me to attempt to carry a pregnancy to term.)

I can understand being personally uncomfortable with certain handicaps. I can’t understand wanting to wipe these people off the Earth, because they are some of the kindest and most honest people I know. Yes, they may not be as intelligent as you or I, but what matters most is the heart.

If one were to say that people with mental handicaps should be genetically altered / aborted, or that living people should be sterilized (as some have suggested), how far does it go? I read one person recently state that anyone with a disability should be “removed” from the gene pool. That, by the way, would include people like me. Yes, my life is hellish someday; just last night, I had to take a vicodin, two ultram, and multiple muscle relaxants to get the pain to ease up so I could sleep. But it’s my life, and I’d like to keep on living it, thank you very much.

I don’t personally intend to pass down my genetics, because in the case of both my male partners, fibromyalgia and related conditions run in their families. Were I to have children under these circumstances, the outcome would be almost certain to have it at some point in his or her life. I don’t feel that’s fair. Other people feel that the gamble is safer, and that’s their choice.

I think people need to be more accepting of each other as they are, rather than wanting them to be something needlessly different. I have no doubt that if certain persons could pre-program their children to be devout worshipers of Christ, they would. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. It shouldn’t.

And for all the good that could come of genetic manipulation, I am deeply afraid of the day when it becomes common practice, because I do not know where they will draw the line.