Saturday, December 05, 2009


I have a confession to make.

Chocolate is okay. Don't get me wrong, there are certain times of the month when I absolutely have to have some chocolate ice cream with chocolate syrup and chocolate chips or I will die. In our house that would be referred to as The Deanna Troi. On a day to day basis, however, I don't even give chocolate a thought.

I happily refer to myself as a "chick," and not a woman. This used to bug the daylights out of an ex-boyfriend who thought he was being progressive when he told me that it's a degrading term. I, for one, think chick sums it all up perfectly. I don't really understand modern womanhood. Or even womanhood of the past. To put it bluntly, I don't enjoy being a "girl." I don't think I ever really did.

Granted, it's better than the alternative to me. I certainly don't want to be a dude. First of all there's that whole business of having your personal parts hanging loose and being all vulnerable. Does anyone understand WHY a boy's bicycle has a cross bar and a girl's doesn't? That doesn't make a damn bit of sense to me. The other reason being a dude would suck is because of the expectations. Oh hell no. There's just too much they're expected to do and be, by simple dint of having a Y chromosome.

Every year I get closer to simply handing in my Girl Card and calling it a day. I realized this when we were packing up our closet, and I noticed that Rich's clothing occupied 3/4 of the damn thing. The other day when I finally busted through 3 weeks worth of laundry, when I got it all folded and placed on the bed I had a small pile consisting of two sweat suits, a thermal shirt, and one pair of jeans. Oh, I also had 6 pair of underpants. Everything else belonged to Rich and the kids. I own, basically, two pair of shoes that I actually wear. My Doc Martens and my flip flops. I do own a couple pair of dress shoes and heels, but I couldn't even tell you the last time they were applied to my feet.

I really, often feel like a fish out of water. The thing is, the older I get, the less I care.

Confession #2- My mother's wedding gown wouldn't button closed because my torso is larger than hers was. I was secretly delighted, even though it's a beautiful dress.

I have a friend, Nina, who occasionally manages to guilt me into proper skin care. We were conversing one day, and when she discovered I was using Dove bath soap on my face I heard the shriek all the way from Manhattan. She told me she could hear my face cracking all the way from Raleigh. So based on her recommendations I got on eBay and purchased some items to more properly take care of my skin. I used them. For a few weeks. Then I discovered that Livvie's Burts Bees baby shampoo makes a delightful face wash in the shower. I was packing the bathroom closet to move, and I discovered bottles and tubes and small tubs of things I didn't even remember I had. There was stuff to help clarify. There were exfoliants. There was cream to provide light moisture.

I chucked most of it into a trash bag and reapplied Neosporin to my split bottom lip (baby skulls can do some serious damage).

I wear makeup only when I am going to be seen in public with Coyote. When we go out together she always looks nice. It's embarrassing. The problem is, when I wear makeup I feel like I'm in drag. I always feel like I'm drawing way too much attention to myself. And forget lipstick. I own some. It doesn't get worn. I usually slap on some lip balm and call it good.

Confession #3- I watch Legally Blonde every time they show it on TV simply so I can feel inadequate. Every time I watch it I am overcome with the desire to purchase anything I can in pink, up to and including kitchen utensils. I never do though.

Ok, that's not true. When Rich bought my iPod Shuffle for Mother's Day a few years back I asked for the hot pink one.

I know nothing from handbags. My friend Jennyquarx rattles off brand names in conversation and my eyes glaze over. I have no idea what she's talking about. The only reason I know as much as I do about shoes is because it took me months to find the pair I wore on my wedding day. I like jewelry okay if it's simple and unobtrusive. I haven't painted my fingernails in years. Lingerie? Nope. Try sweats in the summer and fleece footie pajamas in the winter. I have known women who lived on ramen so they could afford the $100+ to get their hair cut and colored every 6 weeks. I color my own hair for the simple reason that when it's too dark people ask me if I'm not feeling well. I think I manage to get it cut 4 times a year.

Confession #4- I do not usually use shopping as therapy. Not in the way most women do. I have bought things as therapy. I cannot, however, abide shopping for hours at a time in stores or malls the way some people do.

My "retail therapy" has involved only single, big ticket purchases. While down in the dumps I have bought: a trip to Mexico, a trip to Ireland, a Sony Vaio laptop, a surround sound system, a DVD player, an Xbox, and a Nissan Frontier pickup truck. As a teen in NJ we did the requisite hanging out in the mall thing, but more often than not I'd park myself in B. Dalton or Waldenbooks while the other folks I was with roamed the rest of the mall. I know it drove them crazy. It even drives my mom crazy. She can wander outlet malls for hours. Every Saturday morning she feels the need to read the sale circulars to me. I make appropriate "mmhmm" and "oh cool" noises, but I barely listen.

Confession #5- Anniversary gifts and birthday gifts mean nothing to me. Having enough money to pay the cable bill does.

I have known many, many women who compare the sheer spectacularity of gifts received from their men as if it's some type of contest. I've known women who only consider men who make X amount of dollars a year, and I even know women who use blow jobs on their husbands in order to get permission to spend money. Then again, I seem to have met a lot of women who don't actually enjoy sex in the first place. At all. Not only with a particular partner.


And forget about bringing me flowers for any other reason than you simply saw them in the yard or in the woods and thought of me. Coyote has a fabulous post about apology flowers. I can't even count how many women I've known who believe them to be their right and downright expect them after a perceived affront.

One would think that it might bother me that Livvie is completely into the idea of princesses, to the point where for about a week recently we were directed to address her as Princess Livvie. It doesn't bother me a bit. In fact, it makes me happy that what I have is apparently not contagious. Knocking around on this planet at this time uncomfortable in my own skin is for the birds. Not that I want to do a complete 180 and turn into a superficial twat, but at least caring about my appearance might be nice. Occasionally buying myself new clothing that actually fits me would be a good idea. Spending money on myself before putting money into something the kids don't actually need would be nice every now and then.

I could start small. Move from only owning one pair of jeans that is a size too big into owning two pair of jeans that fit. Wear actual shoes every so often. Wash my face twice a day instead of only when I shower.

Baby steps, man. All suggestions are welcome.


Zen Coyote said...

i always use dove soap. sonja used to want to kill me for that. so sometimes i feel bad and try other stuff. but i always go back to dove.
want to know the funny part?
dr. oz recommends it. :)
i feel so... so... VINDICATED!!!!

Julie said...

Just for future reference, the baby shampoo makes for super soft skin.

Mellow Diva said...

This right here is one reason I am petrified to spawn. If I have a girl and she wants to be a pretty pink princess, I will be at a complete loss as how to proceed.

Julie said...

It's actually pretty easy to handle. Livvie doesn't even have an interest in the Disney princess movies other than Mulan, who is NOT a princess. She loves Princess Presto, the spelling princess from Super Why, and she's just in love with the dresses and accessories.

I just roll with it, agree when she tells me it's all so beautiful, and put her hair up.

Safeena said...

I understand your niggling thought of handing in your Girl Card. Most every day I am sure that I was hiding behind the stove when god handed out the feminine stuff. It just all feels so false and unreal but no, I don't feel masculine. Neuter is more like it, and we all know how much happier a cat is when it's neutered.

So much for that deep thought.

My token girl needs are haircolor, Hope in a Jar moisturizer and mascara. I own high heels but prefer boots and clogs; manicures? Are you insane? They would last a day.

Julie said...

Probably why I let you plant one on Rich at the wedding shindig, hon. :)

Chuck said...

I make a terrible girl, so I'm with you.

Dagny said...

as you know, I am also the makeup drag queen.

i wish I was girly.

but I am not.

Cyn said...

The Deanna Troi reference I so totally get. Loved that scene with Ricker's jaw hanging open as she describes the joy of chocolate. But to the point here, chocolate is more than just okay. Chocolate is the meaning of the universe. or at least the solution for not going postal. I have chocolate every single day. I probably did not when I was 5 but as far back as I can remember I have had chocolate as part of my daily routine. Working in a bakery in which my boss hands me the chocolate is a nice way to get my fix.

One of my coworkers, male, calls every woman that walks in the bakery "Miss". he called a woman that to get her attention the other day. I looked up and she was 60 if she was a day. She did not turn around. I can hardly blame her, I would not expect to be called "miss" either. Although I hate "ma'am" as well.

I took Molly on a walk yesterday without makeup on. By that I mean I only had foundation on. That to me is makeup-less. If I am not in bed then makeup should be worn. Otherwise I am practically naked and people will point and laugh at me. Perhaps even throw stones at me.

I am not a shoe person. If I could wear flip flop slippers every day I would be a happy gal. My girl card fails me there. But I am a girl on several things. Oh, not pink. Dislike pink very much.