Complexes/Femme Invisibility

Last night I had a dream where I was at some sort of summer camp and all the lesbians I've ever known were outside playing/having sex/joking around/whatever in the water trough/pool area outside. I felt hurt, embarrassed, left out. My friend Lauren was with them even though she's always been straight and since we were the closest, I joked with her first, calling across the courtyard.

"Lauren, what the hell?" I tried to laugh. "Did you think I wasn't cool enough to invite or something?"

She looked at the girl next to her and then smiled at me, "We thought you were busy otherwise we totally would have invited you." She swam to the edge of the pool near me and I knelt down in front of her. I could feel them, all of them, staring at us while their hands skimmed along skin under the water.

"I can handle it," I assured Lauren, and then out of desperation and anxiety and fear I grabbed her and kissed her quickly. I felt nauseated. I wasn't attracted to her and everyone knew it. She was my friend, my good friend, and instead of making myself fit in I was just floundering further, drowning in the sea of manipulative games and subcultures and titles. Lauren looked at me - angrily, harshly, and I tried to backtrack. "Look, this doesn't mean you're gay or that I like you, I just-" I tried to explain that I wanted to prove myself but she cut my off.

"I don't know what you take me for," I'd never heard her so cold and harsh, "but I'm not gay. And if I were, I'd definitely go for the pretty femmes." I recoiled. Which you're not was implied in her sentence. I'd never been attached to the title of femme, but the way she tore it from me left me reeling - empty handed and wanting to cry.

I feel this a lot. I feel this all the time. Constantly defending and proving and feeling like my sexuality is not broadcast clearly enough. Constantly feeling as though "lesbian" is an exclusive club to which I am not invited or wanted. Constantly aggravated because I'm subjected to male gaze and overtures while easily passed over by lesbians and dismissed as less than or an outsider.

Maybe I'm not femme, but Femme Invisibilty seems to apply to me so easily.

I understand that it is my own shortcomings and brainwashings and past manipulations that have given me this not enough complex, but just because I know that doesn't make it go away. It's a trend in all my writings - not enough - and I'm trying so hard to tamp that down but then it rears up in dreams like this and I know it's still plaguing me.

Crushing

I've never run across this problem before. This problem where I'm talking to someone who knows I blog, who reads my blog, who understands what and who I'm writing about.

Does this take away from my "safe space?" Will this cause me to censor myself? I'm not sure. I've always tried to keep this as a space where I can take off the filter about everything I want or need to write about. I'm still sort of feeling this out and how it's going to work for my blog and the things I write on here. Usually it's all personal, personal, sex, personal and now I need to be considerate. And that's okay :) I'd like to be considerate.

I'm crushing and I'm crushing hard, and I don't think it's something you guys have actively seen me go through. You see the beginnings, perhaps, the flirtations and the putting myself out there, and then of course you've been privy to the aftermath. But this, here, this in-between, this something new but something familiar coiling inside of me is not something you've borne witness to.

I can't sleep. I can't stop smiling. I can't stop checking my phone or hovering my finger over the "call" button even though I know I'll eventually tap the lock button and put it away. There's a nervous feeling fluttering inside me and I feel like an idiot but I also really enjoy it. I am now I'm exactly like all those girls I make fun of. The irony is not lost on me.

Is it always like this?

Orgasms/Twitter

For an account which started out so anonymously, you all know much about me. We've talked about this before, and recently. I spoke how I wanted to take some of that "anonymous" feeling back - feeling more bold, daring, fun.

I must admit, Twitter got the better of me tonight - has gotten the better of me over the last week or so - has had me posting like all those years ago when I was truly anonymous. And here we're going to get back to what I was posting about so long ago: Sex/Orgasms. Since I've come back to this blog, a few months ago, I've avoided the overtly sexual topics which I used to thrive on in the past.

For whatever reason, this week was bad. I mean constantly aching, edge of your seat, hair's breadth away from climaxing, bad. All week. I couldn't make it go away. I'd have an orgasm and the feeling would come back five minutes later. It was heaven the first day, hell the rest. It was distracting, it drove me crazy. My dreams were erotic, my every thought somehow twisted and turned because my body was so close. A hand on my hip could make me whimper, a look could make me tremble.

This week's stories on Rainbow Sprinkles were all driven by this week's dreams -by my constant state of whatever-it-was and you can tell. Well, not with Maroon just yet, but you wait and see ;) Finally, by some Christmas miracle, I was able to have a shaking, wrenching orgasm in the early morning hours and it eased. It was just my normal always-ready-for-sex and not the extremely-sensitive-going-crazy sensations. The peace lasted a few hours, and then I was back to watching porn Christmas afternoon and talking about my bedroom preferences on Twitter.

My sex drive has been higher than normal the past few days and Twitter took full advantage of that tonight. What started off as playful banter eased into sexual banter, actual productive sexual conversation (which I love!), flirting, and outrageous behavior on my part.

Am I embarrassed with my behavior? A little. I have to remind myself that twitter is not private and these people who feel like friends are actually virtual strangers (the term "catfished" comes to mind) but I also enjoy giving people the benefit of the doubt and they all seem very lesbian to me. Am I turned on? Yes. Because, let's be honest, I don't have a girlfriend right now, and talking about sex is beautiful and glorious and something I desperately need.

I'm not ashamed to talk about what I like or what I need. I'm not ashamed to talk about how I like to be touched or what turns me on. And hopefully you can find comfort, confidence, glory enough in your sexual self that you aren't ashamed either.

Updates/Desires

After being *ahem* heckled on twitter about my girl crushes :)  I had some startling realizations about myself, my esteem and my love life. Whichever girl I like can be awful, mean as hell, or undeserving (in another's point of view), but I'll think she's wonderful. Is that normal? Isn't that how relationships go? Aren't we all blind to faults?

I mean, I don't like being emotionally abused and I won't put up with it, but there are certain things I get railroaded into. I do end up getting into situations where I'm used physically, but I'll need a therapist to work out that one. Point is, I like when my my girl can get a little mean, because I like a good fight. I like stubbornness and strong convictions because I like confrontation and the explosive force that comes from a passionate argument. I enjoy the cathartic energy of airing grievances and finally getting everything out into the open. If we can't fight, are we really communicating?

There's a certain balance to be achieved in a relationship. Sweet and gentle vs explosive and passionate. I want both sides of this coin. I want the soft mornings and sweet words in bed, I want the hallway fights with slamming cupboards, the frequent shower interruptions to ask a question, the giggles at family parties, the frustration at public events when we want to be alone, and the nights on the couch when I am so mad but then at three in the morning I want nothing more than your arms wrapped around me.

Can I have everything? I don't know. But I want it.

Bonus- here's an excerpt of the latest chapter of my first:girl series AKA coming out story now up on wordpress: Mimosas

The guilt ate at me and the mimosas weren’t helping. I’m home. I sent her. I forgot to check my phone last night. I’m sorry I made you worry. Hope you got some sleep. It was presumptuous, thinking that she had been worried about me, but I typed it anyway, hoping.

I waited, drank another mimosa. Nothing. The tears built up again. I felt like a yo-yo, jerked around one way and then the other. How could she be so loving, so caring, and then so completely heartless? How could she see me aching to offer my soul on a platter to her and wave it away like an undercooked meal?

My housemate knocked on my door after one in the afternoon. “I heard something about you last night,” she started, but I shook my head.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” my voice was hoarse from crying.

“So it ended badly. We all knew it would, Tabby. God, can’t you see she was playing you? You can’t trust girls like that. They’re just as bad as guys, pitting girls against each other-” I shook myself out of my stupor.

“Girls like what?” I searched around for the term clumsily given to me in the heat of an argument.

“Butch girls? You’re judging her because of how she looks?” I was in full defense mode. Maybe Gwen had just broken my heart, but she was still everything to me and that meant fighting for her to the ends of the earth.

“No. Well, yes. Maybe. C’mon, Tabby. You know her, you’ve seen her. She’s playing you.”

“Are you saying that all this crap I’ve gone through with you and Charlie and all the others is because Gwen isn’t a nice, normal, Stepford-wife girl? That if she had long hair and a polite smile and drank cosmos instead of beer and whiskey, and didn’t curse, and wore high heels instead of converse, and dresses instead of mismatched plaids-” I choked, those were all things I loved about her. I loved her masculinity. I loved her rough edges, the way she held her beer. I loved the quirky smile and the crooked teeth and the no makeup and the tattoos and all those gorgeous freckles.

“That everyone would have been fine?” I finished harshly.

About Me

10 Things you never wanted to know about me, but now you do:

1. I love dreamcatchers. Have since I was a toddler and was given one for my room. I have a bunch of different kinds from different tribes. My grandma has a lot of tribal jewelry and helped build schools on two reservations, so I think her love for NA culture has been passed down.

2. I used to contemplate school for graphic design. Eventually I decided not to go and went to school for theater instead. Like I'm using that a lot.

3. Nail polish makes me feel like my nails are suffocating. After two days I have to take it off.

4. Nestle chocolate chips. Love them. Just a few can improve my mood for the whole day.

5. I write songs on my phone. Don't do anything with them afterward, but it's a good creative outlet.

6. I try to sew really great, incredible things, because how hard can it be to follow a pattern? Really hard, you guys. It always looks terrible.

7. My favorite perfume of all time had cartoon characters on the bottle. My bad. It smelled delicious, though. The same with linen spray. (Yes, I'm the kind of girl who uses linen spray. It's not just for old ladies, okay? Everyone likes to smell fluffy clouds and cupcakes when they lay down to sleep.)

8. I own a lot of zebra print shoes. Not sure how this came about. It sort of just happened.

9. I've never had a bedroom where the walls weren't white. Ever. Painting them a color is so foreign to me. It almost feels forbidden. But I still want to do it, you know, in all that spare time I have.

10. I like to wear vests. They make me feel a little bit like a lumberjack. I enjoy that feeling.

Regression/Anonymity

Remember when I used to be pretty anonymous on here? I was so open about anything, everything, so ready to give my opinions - right, wrong, callous, careless, half thought, half formed. I was bold, fearless. I posted the pictures of myself I was considering for a mostly nude calendar. (That was actually pretty hot.)

Now you know more about me. Now I feel like I've spilled out my guts about my family, my heartaches, my failures, my triumphs (maybe not so much my triumphs and I should write more on those) and I can feel myself pulling back. Regressing. Feeling afraid of the judgement. That can't happen here. This is my space and I want to take it back. Maybe my first step won't be with nudie pictures because I am a few years older and wiser, but I'm going to make the effort to be bolder, less edited.

I want to talk about crushing, but it's going to be too long to halvsie it with this one, so expect it coming up shortly!

Excerpt from Starlight

As some of you know, I've been writing my first:girl series over at tabbyqt.wordpress.com and I wanted to give you guys a little snippet of the latest post. For the juicy part you'll have to go to wordpress. No password needed for this one. Some pieces of the story are under password (which is very easy to get through comment, twitter, or email by saying please!)

Starlight

My throat felt tight and my eyes were hot. I gulped for air and turned my head to rest my cheek on Gwen’s breast. I couldn’t keep it in and my chest heaved against hers as a quiet sob ripped through my throat.

“What are you- Oh my god, are you crying?” Gwen asked incredulously, stroking my shoulder. I sat up, shoving her arm away from where it had been wrapped around me and wiped a tear from my cheek.

“I’m not crying!” I protested, but my voice broke. “It’s just-” Gwen was laughing at me! “Come on, do you have no heart? Bette and Tina are supposed to be together forever!” I sobbed at her. “You knew this was going to happen and you made me watch it anyway, you bitch!"

She cracked up, doubled over laughing at my heartbroken state. “It’s a TV show. Tabby, you’re crying over L Word. They’re not real!” she managed in between chuckles.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s – They’re – Jesus, Gwen, she was her first!” I wasn’t crying anymore, mad at her instead.

“So she can go out and experience something new,” she shrugged. “That’s a good thing. You never know what’s going to happen, who’s going to stay together or get together or get back together or what’s going to fall apart. That’s all part of the fun.” She got up to get herself a glass of water.

“It’s not fun,” I grumbled, clutching a pillow to my chest. I wiped the stray tears from my face and the ache behind my eyes dimmed and took up residence faintly behind my heart. She brought a glass of water for me without asking and I gulped it down gratefully. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I’d gotten. Wordlessly, she handed me the other glass and I drank the whole thing as well, but slower. I handed it back to her with a raised brow and then flushed. Right, I’d been crying, of course I was thirsty. “Can we watch something happy now?” I begged.

“Happy? With lesbians?” she joked wryly. “Pick out whatever,” she gestured to the shelf. I looked through the titles she’d already made me watch: My Summer of Love, Itty Bitty Titty Committee, But I’m a Cheerleader, Lost and Delirious, Better than Chocolate, and Boys Don’t Cry. I guess happiness was a mixed bag.

I shrugged, still thinking about the fictional break up I'd just witnessed. "Can we just...I don't know."

"You want to go for a walk?" she asked, and I lit up. How could she know me better than I knew myself? We pulled on our coats and I slipped on my flats as she took a cigarette from a pack in the back of a kitchen drawer. It was odd that she wanted to smoke, since usually it was a social thing for her, but we had both been stressed out at work. She lit it and we quickly made our way out the front door, locking it behind us.

The night was cold and crisp, the stars overhead were glowing, crystal clear points in a dark lake. Our breath fanned out in front of us and frost was already gathering on the grass. The tops of my feet chilled between my flats and the hem of my jeans.

"Gwen," I took her hand in mine, velvet-soft, warm, slightly larger than mine. We fell into synchronized step immediately, I'm not sure whether it was a conscious effort on her part or not. It didn't seem like it.

"What's up, girl?" she asked, blowing smoke from the corner of her mouth. I loved when she did that. I loved the Christmas smell of her vanilla and clove cigarettes and wondered what she must taste like.

"What's it like to live in the city, where you can't see the milky way, or the teaspoon?"

"The teaspoon?" she laughed questioningly, pulling another drag off her cigarette.

I nudged her playfully. "Pleiades. The Seven Sisters. It looks like the Big Dipper but really, really tiny so I always called it the teaspoon. It's right there," I pointed it out to her and she readjusted her glasses.

"Wow, I don't think I ever even realized there was a constellation there," she confessed, cigarette pressed against the frame of her glasses. She still hadn't let go of my hand. I let my head drop to her shoulder and looked up at the stars, breathing her in.

"There's a thousand of them. Cassiopeia is that big 'W' shape, and her daughter Andromeda and Perseus are both up there with her. Perseus is carrying Medusa's head - that red star right there is her eye, and it's a malicious star in every culture."

"Weird," she craned her head back to look at the constellations I'd pointed out. The cold bit into my skin and I was shivering, but my nose brushed against the skin of her neck. I leaned in and kissed the warm, soft skin below her ear, begging silently for her not to pull away.

Continued at tabbyqt.wordpress.com

Hot Mess/Comfortable

It's weird, going back so far in time and maturity to write my first:girl series. It's hard to get back into that head space where I was so young, awkward, naive, unsure, uneducated. It's hard not to cringe at the moments when I didn't know what it meant to be "butch" or what the Stonewall Riots were. I've had to delve into old journals to remember what I was thinking during that time, even though some exchanges are burned so clearly into my memory. Proof reading my first:girl series was like watching a video tape of someone else drowning. I want to swim out and help me, but I know I can't. I'm not there anymore. I had to learn to sink or swim on my own.

Even looking back on my first posts here, not nearly as far back as my love story, I was all over the place. I was a big, hot, lesbian mess, trying to fit myself into any box I could find. I'm so glad I found these beautiful safe spaces which helped me grow. Places like Sugarbutch, CCL, Dorothy Surrenders, and Alphafemme, with real authors, honest people who shared their experiences and their lives with me so that I might grow and learn. I can't thank them enough, especially Sinclair over at Sugarbutch, for the impact they've had on making me feel safe and like I wasn't alone on this journey.

But I have become someone extraordinarily different from who I was back then. I am confident, self-assured. I know what I need from a relationship and how to get it. I know how to give love, how to accept it, and how to walk away when I'm not going to get it. I am a sane, competent individual who understands different types of relationships, differing needs and wants and paradigms. I am someone who can stand my ground and hold my own beliefs without needing to blind myself to the opinions of those around me. I am no longer spectrum banging, but comfortable in the person I've settled into. That's not to say I don't shake things up occasionally, but everything is essentially me. I can also still be a hot mess when I'm running late for work and haven't done laundry or gone to the market and forget to comb my hair when I get out of the shower and look like Jane Porter (this is a chance for you to show me that you read).

I hope that you, wherever you are on your journey, in the closet or out for years, can come upon this feeling. That someday, you can stop chasing down and looking for who you really are, because you are comfortable in yourself. All that running is exhausting, and knowing the basics of who you are and what you want is really enjoyable.

Day 29 Love/Fear

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but are too afraid to

First post from the new computer! Can I get a cheer?

Love and fear coincide more often than you might think. I'm afraid to disappoint my friends, my colleagues, my boss, my family, my girlfriends. I like when people like me, so much that you might call it a fatal flaw. So, when people set me on a pedestal, I try very hard to stay up there instead of letting myself tumble down.

 I have so many sides to my personality, like everyone does, but most only see two or three. I suppose that by reading my blog you see more of me. You see when I get pissed and want to fight, the moments where I break down and want to cry, my huge ego and my complete insecurities, my gangster moments, and my need to fix the world. You see how I want to believe there is good in everyone, how little I guard myself against people, and yet how I constantly guard myself by not letting anyone in.

I suppose I tell everything to you, like I would a diary, considering you're almost as quiet. I don't mind the lurking readers - I know what it's like to read and connect and feel like you're not alone and someone else is going through all this crap. It's why I started a blog in the first place. It's just interesting that you all across the interwebs, who have never met me, probably know me better than my best friends. In a way, that's horribly sad, but in another way, I guess it's to be expected.

Rainbow Sprinkles

So, this whole 30 Day Challenge thing has kind of been a drag. There are fun moments too, but being introverted is not really my thing, which means that I've been doing a lot of writing on the side to keep me sane. I love to write short stories or scenes that could really fit in anywhere, just snippets of daily life in the LGBT culture, and I wanted to share them.

Rainbow Sprinkles to the rescue! It's a light dash of LGBT life when you want a fictional story that will make you laugh, steam you up, fall in love, make you realize that you fight with your girlfriend like that every day, or just want to take some time out of your own life and live in another world for a few minutes.

Enjoy!

Tabby

Photos

Aneke, a blogger I respected and adored, though is no longer on this website, frequently posted "My Day in Pictures." I loved this idea, but never got around to doing it myself. Until today.

I have a camera on my phone and my phone goes everywhere with me. Why am I not taking pictures 24/7? Today was the most gorgeous day: lots of sunshine, not much wind, tons of animals, and the perfect sort of time to walk around and sit outside and mess around with Layla (guitar, not a lady, gutterminds).

 It was a very sunny day without a cloud in sight!

 

Rose in the afternoon sun 

Lavender stalks overflowing with bees.

Morning Glory flowers, interestingly enough, at sunset.

I thought the flowers were supposed to bloom and then fade by afternoon, but these stay open all day. They are definitely of a convolvulaceae family, so I'm not sure what their deal is.

And this is me as I was making dinner last night :)

I have about fifty pictures of the bees in the lavender from this afternoon. This woman walking by thought I was crazy because I was right next to them and taking pictures and didn't care that they were buzzing all around me.

When my grandfather died, it took me at least a year before I went out and visited the grave. By the time I had, it was all covered in grass and dandelions, and the little white weed-flowers always popping up on public lawns. Anyway, the bees were going nuts, and as I sat there by his headstone telling him everything he'd missed, they kept landing on me. I haven't been stung from that day forward, and since then I seem to associate them with his memory.

Input

When I started this blog I was searching for something - searching for everything. My blog title "I Lost Myself - the search for a misplaced queer identity," really fit. Now, not so much; I think I want to change it. Would that be too confusing? Also, I don't know what I'd want to change it to.

I talk about myself, being gay, and uh, that's about it. Occasionally I'll throw in some stuff about relationships, power dynamics, identity struggles, femme invisibility, body image, steamy dreams and crushing on straight girls.

So, here's where you chime in! Give me your best, your worst, your most cliche!
(That's right #MoHomo! ...I can't believe that didn't catch on)

If you don't help out I could end up with

"Mo' Homo - going beyond the gay."

Leave a comment or talk to me on twitter @tabbyqt !

Day 1- Redux BFF

I started the 30 Day Letter Challenge two years ago and never completed it. This bugs me- a lot.

So I'm starting over- I mean, it's been two years. Should I link to the letters I wrote in 2010? I will for this one because you can't answer me before I post this...

Day 1- Your Best Friend

Luckily, my best friend hasn't changed :)

Two years and it's been you and me, babe, through thick and thin. 2011 seemed like the time of our lives :) I got over a lot of stuff, you dumped your jerk boyfriend, and we just spent time together, having fun, being ourselves, learning, growing, laughing.

I love that we can go days, weeks, months, not saying one word, and then I can text you a picture of the most random thing in the world and all of the sudden we are on the same wavelength again. You know exactly what I'm thinking, what I'm trying to say and you say it better than me.

Our relationship works out so well because every time I say "I really miss you," you know I'm saying I love you, and every time I say, "I could so go for one of your homemade cupcakes!" you know I mean everything is falling apart and I wish you were here so I could talk to you. 

Because I don't talk. I'm a failure when it comes to communicating (Remember Avoidance?) I try and I try to work on it, but sometimes things eat at me from the inside out and I can't share them with anyone, even you. But when we talk about how upsetting the last episode of "Grey's Anatomy" was, you know that I'm spilling my guts about everything I just can't say.


I'll never tell you all this, chica, but I don't need to. You already know it.

-Tabs

Vanity

I am a vain person.

This blog serves as Evidence File #1. I sit at a computer and write about myself and feel a sense of accomplishment when other people read it. I think I'm pretty, smart, funny, polite, generous, and kind. It's fairly obvious I'm quite narcissistic.

Despite this, I don't dress up very often. I didn't come from money and I don't have much now. I'm not impoverished, but I don't buy things I don't need and I am a firm believer that with tweaking, Ikea furniture can last a long time. I don't buy clothes every year and none of my shoes cost over thirty dollars. That's just how I was raised, and I'm used to it. Plus, cheap clothes and shoes are so cute nowadays (hello, Target!)

(Side story: My sister went bankrupt after high school when she worked as a waitress in a suburb of Los Angeles. She bought thousands of dollars of clothes and shoes on a credit card, in order to catch the eye of some rich guy. After maxing out and calling it a day, she moved back home and fell head over heels for a sweet surfer guy with zero cash. They've been married for 16 years. Everybody say it with me. Awwwww.) 

Anyway, I'm pretty much a t-shirt and jeans kind of gal, and people don't usually pass out compliments when you wear the same four pairs of jeans and converse for two years running. So, when I stepped out for work into the chilly, drizzling weather today I hadn't expected anything special. I was dressed differently- it was cold so I switched out my jeans for leggings and boots, my t-shirt for something more stylish.

I didn't expect to be complimented. I didn't expect people to tell me I looked beautiful, or to ask where I'd gotten my clothes or my shoes. I smiled, and someone asked what eyeshadow I was wearing (was she crazy? Who wears eyeshadow in the rain?) Someone else asked me what shampoo and conditioner I use. People complimented my hair, my smile, my laugh, my eyes. I think I may have started glowing.

I felt beautiful. Not just pretty, not just sweet and smiling in front of a mirror in the morning, but noticed. I felt as if I had suddenly come into focus, rather than just a blur in the background. It wore off as I came home from work, took out my contacts, put on warm socks.

Tomorrow I'll just be the blur - the girl in jeans and a t-shirt, and I'm okay with that. But just for today, it felt so wonderful to be beautiful.

Good Lookin' Wednesday

So, I know Wednesdays are kind of a slump day, which is why I was hoping that by posting on Wednesdays it would give me and you a middle-of-the-week perk up. Sharing tips, tricks, and good products is always fun, helpful, and a real money saver because someone else has already tested them out for you.

I try to keep many of my products pretty natural or organic (though sometimes I stray) but all of them have to do right by my skin, hair, and body. If I have to cake myself in something in order to look good, it's doing me wrong. So, for my first post I want to talk about raw honey. Yeah, the stuff you buy at the farmer's market or Trader Joe's or other healthy establishment. You can put it in your tea, use it in recipes, or even eat it plain. Did you know it's also really great for your skin?

(Note: If you're allergic to bees, do not use raw honey. Also, never give raw honey to a small child under 2 as it can be fatal. This warning label should be on the jar.)

Raw honey contains enzymes which allow it to keep many of its natural healing properties which are lost in the commercial refining process (AKA the stuff you find at Wal-Mart.) By applying it topically it can help to heal small cuts and scrapes, and using it internally supposedly has many benefits as well.

Raw Honey made from Orange Blossoms

 Here is the last jar I bought. It's the only brand the store carried that wasn't a sage-based honey (I'm allergic to sage, so, probably not a great idea for me) and it's lasted me a few months now.

Since it hasn't been refined, the honey will crystallize over time, leaving a thick layer at the top while the layer underneath remains liquid. Mine is a few months old, but the thick, lighter colored layer hasn't gone bad, and will become a liquid again when exposed to the temperature of my skin.

I love to use it when I'm peeling after a sunburn. It soothes and calms itchy, ruined skin. Later on in the sunburn process it will slough off all the dead skin while moisturizing the new skin underneath and give me a nice, healthy glow. You can mix raw honey with other ingredients to make facial masks specific to your skin type, but I don't. Raw honey has antibacterial properties, which help fight off acne and infection as well as the normal whiteheads and blackheads which occur when bacteria clogs up pores in your skin.

I combat these by washing my face with raw honey once a week. A once a week regimen will not upset the balance in any skin type. (I find that using it every day is too much moisture for me, so I use Bareminerals as my main skincare.) I wet my face first and then grab a tablespoon of honey out of the jar with my fingers. (I do not consume any honey from this jar. It is for my external use only. I don't think it'll kill you, it's just kind of an ick factor for me.) I spread it on, careful to avoid the eyelids, and let it sit for a minute (if it's a new jar it can be a little runny, so use less and watch it to make sure it doesn't run past your eyebrows) before gently massaging it across my skin.

Raw honey is grainy, and can exfoliate quickly. Be careful and light with the pressure the first few times or you could end up exfoliating too many layers in one go. This goes for any face wash. Your skin is fragile, and rubbing harshly is a surefire way to cause lines, wrinkles, and sagging. Since the honey has no artificial sweeteners or preservatives, it dissolves in water and washes away easily, leaving your face clean, soft, and glowing.

Also, if you have age spots, freckles, or mild hyperpigmentation, dampen the spot and dab a little raw honey on it for ten minutes every night and it should lighten up in a few weeks, thanks to a peroxide-type effect raw honey and water have when mixed together.

Do you use raw honey in your skin regimen? What do you think?

Also, drop a note, tweet, email, whatever, about a problem or product that you can't find or that does work for you that you'd like me to cover. Anything from getting rid of your cat's itchy flea bites to finding a good hair conditioner to the most awesome chapstick I've ever used. Let me know.

Lez Get Real

Okay, I want to talk about something that I'm not sure many people talk about, mostly because it's a little uncomfortable.

Do you go the restroom in groups?

Seriously.  The whole taking-other-people-with-me-to-pee thing is sometimes necessary to avoid becoming a social outcast, but I have never felt comfortable with it.  The whole idea of someone being able to hear every move I make in a stall half an inch from someone else is a little creepy.

When I was ten my best friend liked to come into the bathroom with me (like the ones in our houses) and would fiddle around in front of the mirror while I tried my hardest to ignore the fact that she was there and simultaneously keep her talking so she couldn't hear me pee.

Those were some of the most uncomfortable moments of my life.  But I loved her in the way only best friends can (the sleep in the same bed for three weeks straight, borrow clothes so you wouldn't have to go home, and cry when your parents ripped you apart after a month and forced you to sleep alone in your own bed type of love) so I let her do whatever she wanted.

However, I still get bladder shy when I feel like someone is listening in.  Is this normal?  Men's public restrooms have urinals, no stalls necessary!  They just whip it out like "whatever" and it's fine, but if I feel like someone is within 30 feet all urge to pee just dissipates.

So lately whenever I visit my mom, I've noticed she'll linger outside the door of the bathroom when I'm inside.  She'll answer a text message or write a note or talk to herself or god-knows-what else, but I feel like I'm on Vomit Watch 2012.

Never mind that I've never enjoyed throwing up and my issues with anorexia are totally different than bulimia, but I feel as if she's purposefully keeping an ear out for me.  Which, naturally, makes it hard to find time to pee!  I don't care if she's my mother, I still have this weird aversion.

Am I nuts?  Is she really just there by chance?  Is she coming from a good and helpful place? (I don't doubt this one at all.)

More importantly, do you feel this way?  Or do you invite your friends into the bathroom with you and one person straightens her hair while you pee?  It's not about being naked.  I don't care if friends are in the room while I shower- it's the privacy of the act that I wish to keep intact.

P.S. Someone explain full parameters of NSFW- is it only sexual, or is it stuff like this?  Because I'm never sure but I thought I should give fair warning if you don't want your boss to know you're reading about some girl's insecurities about being in the restroom with other people.

Lost/Found

I thought I had written up a draft for a new post the other day (which apparently I didn't), and instead stumbled upon a draft I had written up after the last time I saw first:girl. I saved the draft instead of publishing it because I was hurting, and I didn't want your first impressions of first:girl to be biased. I want to start from the beginning with her.

To do that, I have to talk about M2 and Patty, so that you can see the position I was in when I met first:girl. I want it all to make sense and go in chronological order. However, it's been a long time since first:girl and I stopped talking, and I still have a hard time writing about her.

It'll be posted. Eventually. I'm going to make that a goal. Talk about first:girl. Before June. In June, we enter each others' lives again, so I better be ready to deal with her by then.

Storytime/parallel lives

Meredith Baxter just came out and pretty much summed up my high school years in just a few sentences.

'But in an interview with Today show host Matt Lauer, she revealed that she had had a "later-in-life recognition" of her sexuality and has been in a relationship with her girlfriend for four years.

"Some people were saying, 'Were you living a lie?' You know, the truth is, not at all," Baxter told Lauer, saying she'd only been out for the last seven years.

Baxter said she'd always had a great deal of difficulty connecting with men in relationships, but she was also involved with people who made her think they were the problem.

"It never occurred with me to think, 'Oh, it's me."'

See the rest of the article here.

It's such a relief to know that some people never felt queer growing up. Most people I talk to say something along the lines of "by the time I was 15 I was experimenting and knew I was attracted to girls." That's just not the way it went for me. I was 17 before I even looked at girls with the possibility that I found them sexually attractive. I was almost 19 before I had a thought that there was a possibility that I would consider having sex with a woman. Gay? I didn't consider that possibility until I was the same age as most of my friends had already come out of the closet. Granted, I was never really in the closet. Once I realized "hey! I want to have sex with women!" my friends already knew and my mother and my sister were the first people I told. (Granted, my grandparents don't know, but they are old and fragile and I don't want to cause unnecessary heart attacks unless I'm bringing a girl home to them.)

I also found this quote from Teh Portly Dyke today

"And I think that's a big part of what's kept me from blogging. Part of what marks me as the "New Improved Portly Dyke -- Now More Functional!!" (in my mind, at least), is that...is no longer the central issue of my life every single day -- and I think that when peeling time comes around again, I get scared that it will subsume my life as it did 18 years ago."

This feels a lot like what is happening now. I don't expect to write about much more than my sexuality at the moment because it is still so new. It's also why my friends and family won't be reading this. This is a safe place for me to explore, to to bare myself without fear that the people who have predispositions about who I am or should be will contaminate this experimental area.

I'm obsessed right now with being gay. Obsessed because I don't understand it. Obsessed because I was introduced to it and then left out in the cold. Obsessed because I thought I would never enjoy being in a relationship, or loving, or having sex. Now I have the capacity and the urge to do all those things without having anyone to do them with. I think it's only reasonable that I am obsessed. So this is what I write about.