Day 30 Mirrors

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror

Not a happy one. Sorry.

Babe,

What the hell are you doing? You're spilling out you're whole life into a computer screen and hoping to find what from it? Redemption? Realization? Friends? Love? Community? You have two jobs. You spend all your time taking care of other people, making sure others are safe, comforted, pushed to succeed. What the hell are you doing about yourself?

When was the last time you went on a date? When was the last time you stopped dreaming about great girls and went out to find one you connect with? You're lonely, idiot. You're throwing words into a fiber optic stream to connect with people you share some common ground with, but it doesn't make up for the fact that you're best friend moved away and the redhead is no longer in the picture.

How often do you look at me and tell me that we're not going to do this anymore? That we're going to live the life we want? That we're going to move away and spend our nights in bars with live bands and learn new music and new instruments and go to art galleries and lounge in the grass and fallen leaves listening to the rain with a cup of hot chocolate and maybe perform again? That we're going to work one job with actual hours where you punch a time clock and know your schedule weeks in advance? How often have we said we're going to get the hell out of California?

And we're talking about this again, now, knowing that it's not going to happen soon. This pep talk is doing nothing. Tomorrow you'll see the family and take care of everyone and everything and hear your sister talk about her due date and of course you'll need to be there to help with the other kids and there are so many things which need your attention so you'll stay here, trapped, for who knows how long.

You rescue everyone but yourself. I know you won't do it, but I wish you would.

-30 Day Challenge Complete-

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.

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.

Rise of the Redhead

Marilyn Monroe courtesy of Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images

Remember when blondes used to have more fun? It seemed like every movie star was dying her hair blonde and magazine covers all had blondes splashed across them. Now, while there is more diversity encouraged among actresses, singers, and models, a special jewel seems to have emerged at the top.

The redhead.

Dyed redheads are super popular too, but the natural redhead remains the most coveted of all. Why the sudden fascination? Why are women scrambling to buy red dye from a box or a salon? Is it a feeling of empowerment and bold sexuality that accompanies the color? Or is it something else?

Few people who are not naturally red or strawberry blonde can pull off the switch to a red color. I dyed my hair a nice, vibrant mahogany-ish color once when I was 12. With my Mediterranean/Native American tanned complexion (though I am not Mediterranean and not very Native American) it looked FABULOUS on me. Just kidding, it looked awful. I won't ever do it again, I promise.

Karen Gillan, a stunningly lovely natural ginger

Both of my grandmothers had red hair and my mother has lovely jade green eyes (but brown hair) and I always feel like I missed out on the DNA lotto. My sisters managed to snag her eyes but my brothers and I were left out. I've cherished her green eyes for years, but no amount of wishing has ever lightened my eyes or made them magically turn green.

I do wonder if our sudden fascination has anything to do with the Harry Potter culture-the red hair and green eyes that were so special and cherished in the storyline that wound its way through a generation of new, young readers. These readers have grown up and started what seems to be an "invasion" of British-isms. These are a generation of people who enjoy British television, books, music, talk radio, colloquialisms, and fashion. If we idolize the minds and words of those across the pond, why not their looks?

My ultimate badass crush- Michelle Rodriguez

Most of the world has brown eyes and brown hair, traits which are beautiful in their own right- but it seems like not many people are happy with what they have, and are constantly reaching to change themselves into something more "special and unique." I'm not saying that I fall on the outside. I love being "special," being noticed. But I'm not a redhead- I don't have green eyes. Sometimes you just gotta let DNA do its thing.

In the meantime I'm lucky in that I'm a gay lady and enjoy looking at pretty girls who are special and unique.

Aishwarya Rai- one of the most beautiful women in the world, and Jamie Chung- current TV love who is heating it up on ABC's Once Upon A Time

Kerry Washington is lighting up DC with her gorgeous face in Scandal and just try to tell me you're not in love with Grace Park, a smokin' hot lady you might recognize from Hawaii Five-O

ABC's Nashville LadyCrush- Connie Britton Along with my favorite smiling girl TaySwift

I will stand under your Umbrella.

Homework/Discovery

I decided to write a separate post for this, because whilst the other one is somewhat whiny, this is about discovery, and the need to separate those two topics is bred deep within me.

Sinclair posted about the homework which she gives to Kristen, which in turn sparked Alphafemme's different kind of homework (which I think is truly brilliant).

I decided to jump on the bandwagon and discover what I feel most comfortable with about my sexuality. I feel like the only way I will ever grow and discover what I like is to push myself. This week's topics were femininity and self appreciation. I was walking around my room undressing to put on pajamas, when I caught a glimpse of myself in my full length mirror. The light on my nightstand was on, and it cast shadows across my body that hypnotized me and stopped me where I stood.

I've never been very proud of my body, never loved it for what it is, but just then I was enamored. I was caught up in the curve of my hips, the slope of my breasts, the shape of my tummy, the length of my legs, the strength of my calves. For the first time I felt how soft my skin was, felt the thickness of my hair, the silkiness of my neck, the satin feel of my shoulder blades.

I realized how perfectly my ass is shaped, how my ankles invite the brush of a finger, how the dimples in the small of my back invoke happiness and sweet memories, how the curve of my back begs to be cupped, how my spine is slightly crooked and juts out from my skin like a message in braille, showing the reader a map of my body. I noticed my jawline, the softness of my figure, the way my nipples respond to touch and how hard my stomach muscles are underneath all the cushion.

For the first time, I drank myself in in the half light, excited by what I saw, delighted in who I was and what I looked like.

This sparked in me the need to take care of myself. The need to pamper myself and rejoice in the beauty of my own body. It was enough to bring out the coconut butter that I used to adore, enough to make sure I used lotion under my makeup and put on an extra coat of mascara. From this spark and the aforementioned posts about homework, I decided to assign some for myself.

I wanted to be high femme for a week. I spent half an hour curling my hair every day. I bought new lipstick, eyeliner, mascara, and used them religiously. I wore earrings again, and a necklace that spoke to me with simple elegance and quiet beauty. I wore high heels and dresses, and everything matched. I brought coats out of hiding and coordinated them with my outfits. I wore underwear that made me feel sexy, and I didn't wear bras, which also made me feel sexy.

While it did take up more time in my morning routine, I rather enjoy the feeling of primping for myself. Of feeling sexy for myself.

While I won't go into detail for fear of revealing way more that you wanted to know, I finally had an orgasm. Talk about being excited about the prospect of sex all over again. Now that I know that I can at least give myself one, the possibilities of sex are now even more appealing than they used to be. It may not become a common occurrence, but to know that at least I can, at least I won't go my whole life without one, it's kind of a relief. I don't expect it to happen again anytime soon but...here's to hoping, yeah?

I feel like maybe I need to push myself to the butch extreme to figure out what I like about each and find a happy balance, but I'm enjoying the femme side so much that I don't want to let it go yet, even though I know I don't want to keep it up forever.

What are other ways I can push myself in this area? What do you consider as feminine qualities that I should experience?