Hair Technology

Amanda: Your hair looks nice today. Did you use product?
Me: No, still don't have any product to use.
Amanda: It looks different.
Me: I have a big heater vent on the floor of my bathroom. I shook my hair out over the vent to dry it.
Amanda: Really?
Me: Really.

Reminds Me of Fireflies

I joined Facebook this week. Not one, but two, gals I knew in high school have wedding pictures up. Lovely wedding pictures.

"I have a wonderful fiancee who makes me extremely happy. We will be getting married on September 20th. Yay!!! :) J- and I recently bought a house and two wonderful little dachshund puppies. Life is busy right now but I love the direction it's going. I couldn't be happier:)"

Between Monday and Tuesday I was helped (by my critique group and thesis adviser) to realize that there's little chance I'll be able to get my thesis sorted out and defended this semester. I'm anxious to get my MA. I've been going to school for so long I feel like I'm treading water. Graduate school feels like it's a holding pattern for me. I need to get out of it, and now I probably will have to wait just a little longer for that to happen.

"I couldn't be happier."

*Sigh* I'm not feeling especially over-joyed this week. Rather, I'm feeling generally low. Overall, I'm in the same place this year as I was last. My high school peers have houses, spouses, and grown-up jobs. However, not much has changed in my life. It feels like a failure of sorts.

Every now and again, I get hit by a melancholy. Its roots come from the summer of 2002 when I spent three months on my own in Arkansas running a business. It didn't go so well - the business didn't work out, I was lonely, and in general it was unpleasant. My most vivid memory of the only times during that summer when I felt freed from all the bad I was swimming through is this:

On nights when it was especially bad, I would get in my car and drive. I only had one Chris Isaak album at the time, Heart Shaped World, which my aunt gave me as a present. For some reason, that album was perfect for these night drives. Something about the music was just fundamentally right for it. So, I'd roll down my windows, pop in Chris Isaak, and drive down the dark highways with my hand out the window and fireflies spattering across the windshield. In the dark, in motion, it was just me and the music. Ever since, Chris Isaak has had a certain significance for me.

Tonight I'm listening to him and thinking of fireflies.

I believe there's an answer waiting when the day is done.
I believe if you just keep searching you'll find someone.
I believe that you and I just lost our way.
And I believe in a beautiful day.
I still believe in a beautiful day.

But not for me, and not for you...

-Chris Isaak, "I Believe"

Feminine Gender: Part II

Penny Red's post about learned femininity and gender roles also got me thinking back to the purpose of this whole adventure.

Anthropologically speaking, we know that gender is culturally created and fairly arbitrary. Even though I'm a biological female, that doesn't mean I have to assume female gender roles. Especially in the current cultural setting where, unlike, say Puritan New England, the divisions between what is feminine and masculine are less concrete. If I were to continue to hold to my old patterns of gender identity, in the larger scheme of things it'd be fine. I don't really have anyone pointing their finger at me and demanding I wear a dress.

Yet, I've decided I need to explore the culturally feminine. I've talked with Amanda about it in terms of broadening my comfort zone. I'm already comfortable with my tom boy traits, but start talking makeup and I get uneasy. I shouldn't be. I clearly identify as female, and I don't put myself as anything but female on the Queer spectrum, so it's not a question of feeling like my identity and physical body are incongruent.

Rather, it's that my early experiences impressed me with the idea of equating feminine with weak and if you spend your afternoons playing with a group of boys, you can't be weak. I've had a history of being shy and self-conscious where the only thing about myself I could really be confident about (since I'd proven myself in elementary school) was my toughness. I could hang out with the guys, stare 'em down, and tell the dirty jokes. That's what I knew. That's what I held onto as a defense mechanism. Besides, my mom is something of a tom boy herself. She's tough, she's a hunter, and in the past decade I could probably count on one hand the number of times I've seen her wear lipstick. The "girly" influences on my early life were few and far between.

These days I'm less shy, more confident, older, wiser, and all that jazz. I no longer need masculinity as a shield, but I'm still not entirely confident in being a girl. When I'm tense, I go to a "manly" place, because I still see that as my strength. I'd call myself a feminist, but how feminist can I really be if I keep on this track of proving myself as one of the guys? I've already found my strength in the culturally masculine, now I need to find my strength in the culturally feminine as well.

It's about acknowledging (embracing?) all aspects of myself. I can't imagine myself ever going to the far end of the girly spectrum, but being confident enough in my girliness to occasionally put on some makeup surely wouldn't be a bad thing.

Feminine Gender

I've begun searching for blogs that have some bearing on this one. This raises the question of what has bearing. What, exactly am I trying to accomplish by writing this?

The first good blog I've found is Penny Red, and I just read an especially interesting post about this idea of Pantomime Dames. She makes good points about the nature of femininity.

One of the things I studied as an undergrad. w/an anthropology minor was this concept of cultural identities, including at the basic level of gender. Bottom line: sex is physical, gender is behavioral. Penny Red's big point is that there's talk about male-to-female transsexuals "immitating" femininity, which is a crock because they're only do the same things any biological female is doing - assuming learned behaviors associated with the female gender.

Which brings me back to this blog. I've spent most of my life being, to a greater or lesser extent, uncomfortable with my femininity. I've tended to associate feminine traits with weakness, masculine traits with strength. With the intense desire to be strong and independent, I've grabbed onto masculine behaviors and shunned all things "girly." In the past couple of years I've eased up on this a bit. Still, at times when I, for instance, wear a dress, I tend to feel uncomfortable and self-conscious, as if I'm just pretending.

This is why Penny Red's post struck me so. I realize that your average m-t-f transgendered or transsexual is probably more comfortable with feminine behaviors that I, a biological female, am. It's an interesting thought.

Girls Night

When I first made my proposition to Amanda to embark on this adventure, I phrased it in terms of a girls night out.
Me: I'll hand myself wholly over to you. You can decide what I wear, where we go, who we go with, the whole shot.
Amanda made a kind of "whee!" noise. Obviously, things have expanded beyond one night at this point, but the girls night is still part of the plan.

November 8th is the date. It'll be me, Amanda, one of our mutual friends, and around five or so of Amanda's friends who she thinks I'll like. Amanda is excited about the logistics, and I'm not sure exactly what the night will look like. In the past few days she seems to have settled in on the idea of a sparty (spa-party). We'll each pitch in about $30 and then have our choice of three spa treatments. I'm a fan of bath salts and lotions, so it's not that far of a leap for me to go in for a facial. Amanda's said things about pedicures - and while I can only wonder what the point of one would be for me, (who, save by accident, never shows off her feet, especially not in November), but I have promised to let her boss me around, haven't I?

The upshot of the sparty is I'm not a big drinker, dancer, or pick-upper of men, i.e. traditional girls night staples for this crowd, and the spa idea appeals to my indulgent side. On one hand, a sparty would be very girly, but it's still easing me in because it's not something totally out of character for me.

Baby steps. It's all about baby steps.

Breaking In the Curling Iron

This week Amanda told me I had to curl my hair.
Me: But, I don't have time for that in the morning.
Amanda: Come on. Don't make excuses.
I tried arguing more, but she fixed me with a stern look and I knew there was nothing I could do.

The part that surprised me was my resistance to the idea. Here we are, only a week into the experiment, and I'm already trying to dig my heels in?
Me: Fine, I'll do it.
Amanda: Good. Do it Wednesday.

I debated. I could always "forget" and skip it. But, like I reminded myself, this whole thing was my idea. It's hardly much of an adventure if I wuss out and start making excuses, is it? Which isn't to say that I liked the idea, just that I'd made the promise to myself that I'd see it through.

Wednesday morning I pulled myself out of bed early and got out the curling iron I've had for at least three years now without using it once. It still had the plastic covering on the prongs. I think the last time I curled my hair was when I went to prom in high school. I did the best I could, managing a little curl at the ends, but nothing more than that.

When I saw Amanda, she hardly noticed I'd done it at all. She quickly promised to show me how to do it right and to show me which products I needed to get the hold, etc. "It'll be great," she promised.

So, I'll admit, even though the curl was subtle, it did make me feel more feminine. I'm fairly vain about my hair, despite not investing a lot of effort in styling it, and Wednesday it looked nice. There was even a little voice in my head saying, "Look! It's pretty." Not quite pretty enough for me to attempt it again on Thursday or Friday, mind you, but it wasn't too bad.

A List To Start With

I like lists. They're neat and tidy and once you've written one down, you feel like you've accomplished something. I make them often. Something in the act itself makes things feel more ordered and safe. Thus, I figured it would be good to have a list. I'm grouping the list in terms of girly and non-girly.

Non-Girly:

• I'm big on stoicism.
• I'm not always a big talker.
• I like to present myself as coming from a position of power and control.
• I tend to be blunt/direct.
• I have a competitive streak.
• I don't spend a lot of time/money on specialized grooming products - i.e. I don't own a hair dryer, don't use my curling iron, don't have hair spray or make up, and I have never had a manicure or pedicure.
• I really like having my alone time.
• When I was engaged, I planned my wedding to be simple: do the license at the court house, then have a BBQ with friends and family.
• I break problems down into a plan of attack. I don't want to talk and talk about something, I'd rather just start doing something about it.
• I keep my nails short because it's practical that way.
• I'm one of the least squeamish people I know. My parents are hunters. I worked at an animal rehab. center for a number of years, which entailed lots of excrement clean up and taking animals apart.
• Except for very rare occasions, I'd much rather cram stuff into my pockets than carry a purse.

Girly:

• I make jewelry and rarely step out of the house without wearing a necklace that coordinates with my outfit.
• I'm a big fan of young mammals like puppies and kittens or babies.
• I love bath salts and lotions.
• I have lots of scented candles.
• I put time into shopping for clothes, trying on many things to make sure that what I buy looks good on me and fits.
• I sometimes speak to my dog in baby talk.
• In certain circumstances, I'm quite the gossip.

Two things are clear in this list: I find a lot more of my traits to be non-girly than to be girly, (which, admittedly, we already knew), and that I have certain prejudices about "girly" ness. But, well, there it is. A frame of reference.

F*ing Nail Polish

I painted my toes yesterday. Went with a minty green.

This morning, in my just-woke-up fog, I realized I didn't have matching socks. Thought, "No problem, sandals it is." I slid my feet into my sandals in the dark.

Then I got to work and happened to glance down. Minty green toenails on display for all to see. Damnit.

We Just Got Started, and Already I Have Homework

The last time I wore a dress was almost two years ago when two of my friends married each other and I was in the wedding party. By the time we hit the reception, I was back in pants and everyone was very entertained at my expense.
Other wedding attendees: Hey! Why aren't you in your dress?
Me: Oh, was I supposed to still be wearing it?

Now Amanda is telling me about these cute little black dresses she has in the back of her closet. They aren't her size any more. However, very apropo, they are mine. Amanda already has one picked out for me. When she told me, my face must've got a whole shade paler, because she was quick to add, "Okay, maybe the first time we go out I'll let you wear pants."

She also told me that if I was going to take this experiment seriously, I'd have to be less sarcastic when I talked about it. Then, to get me started, she said I ought to paint my nails. I showed her my fingernails, which I keep trimmed very short.
Amanda: Well, you could get acrylics.
Me: I can't do nails that long, they just bug me.
Amanda: Fine, we'll start you off slow. You need to paint your toenails.
Me: Now that I can manage.

Tomorrow will be toenail painting day. Come Monday when I got back to work, even though nobody will see it, I'll know. Amanda will be pleased.

The Beginning of the Adventure

The roots of this adventure go back about five years. There was one day at the job I had then when my boss asked me to do a presentation. I tried to get out of it by telling him that the thought of doing it made me nervous and that I was intimidated. He grinned and said, "Then, that's exactly why you should do it." I did it, and survived, and that day has stuck with me. In many things I've embraced this idea and charged right up to the things that scare me so I could stare them in the face. It doesn't always work out, but at least I'm not left with the "what if" question.

Within a year or so of that day, I became involved with a guy who I thought would be the one I married. After all, we even got engaged. Then, that fell apart and all of a sudden that secure feeling I'd had for the past couple of years, that I'd gotten this relationship thing figured out, was gone. I was single again and my confidence in attracting and hanging on to a guy was at an all time low.

Even after I got over the break-up, I still was intimidated by dating (which has always been the case). This past April I decided it was time to go at it and I signed up on a dating website. I was proactive. I initiated contact with a number of guys, most of whom promptly fell off the face of the earth, and met one who wasn't at all interested in me as anything other than a friend, and then I broke my cardinal waitressing rule by actually going out a few times with a guy from the bar, which also didn't work out.

The dating thing got me down. I know I'm smart, funny, talented, loyal, etc. I know I'm good girlfriend material. On the personality level, I'm confident about my appeal. I can objectively say that on the looks level I'm cute enough. The part where it falls apart is the part where I'm confident enough in my femininity to attract a guy not platonically, but romantically. There we fall into no-confidence land. Wiles, I have none.

Enter my new coworker and friend, Amanda. Her last job was for a women's magazine, which means she hails from the land of all things pink and girly. She is the yin to my yang. On Friday, I girded my loins, closed the door to the office we share, and told her that I would like some help getting in touch with my girly side. She got excited.

The Overview

The quick back story is that my family is composed of two men (dad and brother) and a mother who sees no point in makeup. Then, when I was little, my best friend was the neighbor boy. I played with him and his friends and, because I was the only girl playing soldier games, I felt the need to out-tough the boys. In short, I spent a few of those important developmental years getting in touch with my masculine side.

Throughout much of my life I've been more comfortable being one of the guys than one of the girls, and I admit that a lot of it was a defense mechanism. Once I was no longer playing soldier with the neighbor boy and his friends, I was negotiating high school. People were pairing up left and right, but I never really had the hang of the dating thing. I tried, twice, but the first boyfriend cheated on me and the second was using me as a test to know whether or not he was gay (he was). During this time my best friend was no longer a boy, but a girl who tended to use her sexuality as a weapon. In her own words, she was the pretty one, I was the smart one. So, I'm still not feeling especially feminine here.

When I was nineteen, I had my first serious relationship with a guy who wasn't in to girly-girls, and I spent a lot of time hanging around with his guy pals. We were together for a couple of years, got engaged, and then split up. When a guy can look you right in the eye and say, "You're the best thing that ever happened to me," and still walk out the door for good, it does not instill much confidence.

Also, I spent about three years being a cocktail waitress where my only real experience with my girly side was drunk guys staring at my boobs.

I have never been greatly confident in my feminine wiles. All together, my feminine experience has been based on being a tom boy, or being that thing with the boobs. That, my friends, is your overview.