When you think of all the things you would like to change about yourself there is a tendency to focus on the aesthetic. Yet we know very well that this is the easy part. The greater achievement is to shift the way we think.
In accepting the female aspect of ourselves we will likely never have a completely feminine experience. We’re not going to experience the pain and joy of childbirth, for example. At least not anytime soon. We will also never experience the angst of the teenage girl developing, nor the uncertainty that many women experience in anticipation of a first date; something that could ending in a deep relationship, or possibly a shallow grave.
But as we make changes to ourselves perhaps we should ask ourselves not merely how we can shift from the male to the female, but also how we can develop those aspects of our feminine self that benefit others. I know it seems a little unusual to some but helping each other is one way we can really advance our wellbeing. As people in the gender fluid space this is not merely a nice thought, it is very much a part of our survival strategy. By helping those less fortunate than ourselves we undermine those who would be critical of our journey, and we exercise the nurturing side of our feminine selves. Of course we want to wear the lovely gold dress to the cocktail party, but if in doing so we drive past the homeless person who needs a couple of dollars for their dinner, then we are not really being the best we can be. Opening our hearts as well as our legs is part of the deal.
This caring nature is very much part of our feminine selves, and is probably a lot more important than the Victoria’s Secret panties we all enjoy. If we can offer a helping hand to those around us as we move forward we are all better off for it. And should dissenting voices shout their criticism, being the best person you can be will silently remind you that you’re the kind person that makes a difference in this world. Doing so as you wear spectacular underwear and shimmer across the room in a gold cocktail dress is going to be a lovely feeling.
And that brings me to what I am writing to you about tonight. I do like to dress up when I go out in the evenings. I particularly enjoy fund raising events, and naturally I endeavour to give back to the community whenever I reasonably can. It is part of who I am.
I was at a fundraiser for the local curling team just the other night when Amanda sailed across the reception room in my direction, through the gathered donors. Yes, there is such a thing as ‘tweed casual’. And by the way I think she knits her own stockings. The curling team often raise funds for disadvantaged youth sports, and they’re a lovely group of people.
It’s fun activity, curling, and I often like to go with the team to their games. Many a long weekend I can be found scoring with the boys. It’s a competitive league with some very high scores, and I am always diligent about getting them down for the players.
Generally I avoid chatting to Amanda at events like this. I’ve learned to tune out most of her babbling. I just pick up the occasional phrase and nod or shake my head, according to which seems the most appropriate. It’s usually something about Pig and Pig Farmer, the magazine she edits. That can wear a little thin after a while.
I was wearing a gold cocktail dress, stockings and heels. Very simple, off the shoulder and offsetting my slight tan very nicely. Dressed like this I think of myself as the very personification of genteel feminine delicacy. I very nearly swallowed the glazed cherry in my appletini when Amanda walked up to me and said, “Sylvester’s coming to my opening.”
“I beg your pardon,” I said, a little shocked.
“I said, ”Sylvester’s coming to my opening.”” Repeated Amanda.
How very crude some people are. I expect that sort of thing from Sylvester, he really can be very coarse, but it was a little too candid coming from Amanda.
“Good God,” I murmured. “Does Marjory know?”
I should explain. Amanda and my neighbor, Marjory, sordid as it sounds, are indulging their most carnal desires. Regularly. However now and then Amanda – literally the ‘elephant in the room’ – and Sylvester succumb their insatiable clandestine lust. It’s all most distasteful.
I could see Amanda’s lips moving but wasn’t really listening, until she said “…and since my parts have been drying up lately…”
“I’m so sorry,” I replied quietly frowning and sipping my appletini. “But do you have to speak so loudly,” I said. “Auntie Kittie has a couple of her nephews here! Have you no shame?”
She gave me one of those looks and then sidled off in the direction of the bathroom bulldozing her way through a sea of white privilege. It was about time considering the amount she’d already had to drink. As though materializing from thin air Marjory appeared beside me. As you may know, Marjory is quite big on the competitive eating circuit. I must admit she is the only woman I have ever met that can eat a banana without chewing, to the best of my knowledge. The irony knows no limit.
I swear she’s like a vampire., the way she silently comes and goes.
“Has she been trying to strong arm you into going to her play,” said Marjory.
I looked at her blankly.
“It’s opening on Saturday,” she continued. “She’s trying to get anyone she can to go and see it.”
“Oh,” I said, realization dawning on me. “Are you going?”
“I went to the last one,” se said. “No way I’m putting myself trough that again.”
I saw Amanda in the distance returning and turned toward Marjory, but she’d already disappeared, leaving just a feint smell of ozone in her wake.
“Ah, Amanda,” I said. “You were telling me about your parts.”
These social events are sometimes great fun. This evenings event was moving along with a swing, a DJ playing some music, and one or two people moving around on an improvised dance floor. I thought Amanda might be having a seizure until I realised she too was dancing. You’ll be familiar with the phrase ‘Dance as though no one is watching you’. Well, she did, and we were.
It was most off putting.
Have a wonderful week,