Uh oh.

1. Boy and I have been practicing cohabitation during this past week. It has been going well so far. I find myself enjoying doing domestic things with/for him: the dishes, cooking, taking out the trash. When the hell did this happen?

2. I am somewhat pleased to report that the sporty spice part of me is coming back in bits. I don't foresee myself being a gym whore with workout goals anytime soon. But it's certainly nice to whip a little ass on the basketball court and glide a frisbee around.

3. I am gaining weight. My love for dark chocolate is helping. I know that this is good; even I was starting to feel like I looked too much like someone from a third world country. I am eating more on purpose. But this doesn't mean that I'm doing what I really want to do. I'm just doing the right thing, because, well it's the right thing. I do not want the right thing.

I am coming to accept that I will always be playing a bit of a game with myself that bounces between scratching an old itch and being "normal." Luckily I am not putting my health at risk.

4. I am finding, more and more, that finding a female visually pleasing does not necessarily mean that I have any desire to touch her.

5. I wish I wasn't such a bitchy hypocrite about pudginess. A tiny bit of girl pudge is cute and tactile; a bit too much of girl pudge turns my head away. It's worse that I don't judge males as harshly. I feel like such a bot.

Cutting to the Chase

1. I used to be sporty spice. Now I'm a scrawny, whiny pansy. The thought of working out in a serious way sounds sort of...foreign. I used to love being athletic, and I find athleticism/physical fitness to be a turn-on in both boys and girls. I used to want to compete with guys in gym class and prove that I wasn't just some pushover girl. Now I'm content to just be the weak one.

2. The most acceptable thing your boyfriend can whine about is wanting to lick your clit more. I am one lucky bitch. And any woman who complains that men suck at eating pussy is either 1) a bitter, man-hating lesbian or 2) a bitter straight woman who is with a non-GGG partner.

3. For a while I didn't think I could love a boy as much as I currently love my own. I kinda got locked into the idea that the love between two people of the same sex would be inherently more intense and understanding, even though I've only really been pursuing guys for the past few years now. But now I really see that the gender of the person doesn't matter; a connection is a connection.

4. I'm going to be honest and admit that unintentionally losing 15 lbs and weighing less than what I weighed in high school has me slipping back into old patterns of obsessing over what I eat. I am not out of control by any means, and I have people who've got my back. But there is a danger in losing the taste for things like candy, bread, pasta, etc. There is a danger in "seeing the light" and realizing that these foods are nutritionally unneccessary.

5. I know it's about the desire for control during stressful times. But I also hate having a [predominately] female mental issue. I'm going to have to make a point to bring my mind and body back to a state of balance that appeases both my desire for discipline and my desire for joy.

Bitchiness Overload

My current emotional state embodies all of the worst in a stereotypical female: bitchy, spoiled, insecure, weak, reactive, etc. My stomach is growling on a timer, I want to make dark chocolate a food group, and I feel ready to verbally eviscerate the next person who even remotely tests my patience--regardless of if they mean well or not. And the next inanimate object that doesn't obey my will could stand to get bruised from my my arm violently introducing it to the floor.

This is not me. I am not usually like this. I do not like being this way; I like being calm and in control. I generally like to choose to be logical, even if I am angry. I've been told I can be even too logical at times. I would prefer this to being an emotional lava lamp. I guess I'm just going to have to work harder to be myself, or rather, how I perceive myself to be.

Carrying this mood around when you're looking for clothes isn't a good idea. It's sort of the opposite of shopping while you're famished. I kept walking around the store thinking of how much I hate straight people/gay men. I of course did not buy anything.

Shopping for clothes can feel like work: you have to find something you like, something that fits, and something that you can afford. I do think that finding an article of clothing that meets all these criteria is quite satisfying, but the work required to reach this state can be tedious. Especially if you're poor and picky like me.

Furthermore, I'm always playing this little tug 0' war in my head. I don't want to buy anything too irritatingly girly that makes me feel like I'm wearing some costume on my body. I'm a fan of combining lines and angles with curves as opposed to building a tower of frill that feels an unnatural growth.

On the same token, I've also evolved from having an adolescent, baggy, hoodie-centric sense of fashion. I may want to attack Ellen Page with my lips, but I certainly don't want to dress like Juno. So it's a balancing act, as usual.

I think I'm feeling disillusioned with being a [queer] woman at the moment. With all of the female-specific bullshit we have to do and put up with. I could make a list, but I don't think there's anything novel on it. I guess I just needed to bitch so I could get over it and move on.

The Best Policy

There is a lot of new and renewing love in my life right now. Several opposing parties are reconciling, my friends kick ass, and my boyfriend and I still don't really do things like watch movies because we're so into each other's lips. I'm really lucky to have all of this.

However, I feel conflicted between the desire to make other people happy/be what they want me to be and the desire to simply be myself. Lately, the former desire has felt right for the most part. I feel somewhat less militant about asserting who I perceive myself to be, and I'm happy to please those I care about. But I don't want to turn into a puppet.

I see myself first as a person, and I just happen to be in the body of a female. If one removed the (mostly socialized) pansy, girly behaviors, I could just as easily be the same person in a male's body. I would also still be bisexual. I think many people's identities are inextricably linked to their sex; I don't think I'm one of those people.

However, I never wanted to be a boy (although I think that aside from being expected to make more money and be emotionally sturdy, males have it easier). But I did not enjoy growing up being constantly compared to other girls and having all of the ways in which I don't measure up be shoved in my face. I have made significant strides in getting over all of that, but I suddenly remembered how that sentiment will always sting a little.

I have mostly accepted the fact that when you interact with others, you will rarely get the chance to be yourself 100% of the time. I'm not sure if this is good because it's practical or bad because I'm "selling out."

I also think I have accepted the fact that while being queer is more okay than it used to be, it will always be the minority. The subjective idea of beauty will mostly be in the hands of those who do not appreciate gray.

The desire to not feel conflicted with oneself and with society is a powerful motivator. People who do drastic things to their bodies (e.g. taking hormones and getting sex change surgeries) are really chasing after that sense of congruity and coherence that non-queers take for granted.

I'm glad I don't feel the need to do anything that drastic; I just need to regard compromise and the occasional lie means to a greater end.

Gulp

I've rather proudly held the title of Blowjob Queen for several years now. Most of my friends know this, and one of my ex's still manages to throw in the occasional joke about it from time to time. Every dude whose dick has been in my mouth has given me accolades on my performance, and this further reinforces the enjoyment I already derive from the act.

Furthermore, I'm quite lucky to be dating the most enthusiastic, persistent, and talented pussy munchers I have ever been with. He's even bossy about it: ohmigod, pleeaase stick that pussy in my face because I NEED it.

In many ways, this is a sexual match made in heaven. We both have strong oral fixations coupled with hard-earned talents. There's just one problem: he is more into imbibing female fluids than I am into male fluids. Considering my enthusiasm for cocksuckery, he finds this baffling; I find it normal.

I wish I felt the same way he does; I feel guilty that I don't. And I don't know how to fake it. Dan Savage would probably scold me. I'm all about being GGG, and I've done things out of my comfort zone. But I'm not sure what to do about this one.

The only explanation I have is the fact I was randomly exposed to porn at a relatively young age (10, 11'ish). I've probably seen a bit too much male-oriented stuff, and I think seeing one too many messy endings with the girl obviously pretending to be into it created a turn-off. If porn creates and reinforces turn-on's, then it can do the same for turn-off's.

Or is this just the lesbian in me drawing the line? Perhaps that's too convenient of an excuse for someone with a dual identity. I don't know. Either way, some compromises are in order.

Locked

One: I'm starting to feel the desire for female affection come back. I knew it would return. I'm lucky to be with someone that I can talk about it with.

Two: Boyfriend was saying how, as a male, it can get tiring to always be the one on the offensive. When he said that, I made a mental note to try to be more of an initiator. But even when I want to be more aggressive, I find myself a bit frozen, and I hold back.

I'm not like this 100% of the time, and I've had several instances of attacking various people, but it's sort of a default for me to be passive. I'm discovering it's harder to shake than I expected. Stupid unconsciously acquired gender roles.

Three: I want to fuck this singer's voice, as Dan Savage would say.

Four: In this post, I was complaining about some gross blonde chick working at the health foods store I frequent. Well now there's a super cute one working there. Translation: I'm afraid of making eye contact with her. She pulls off this sexy semi mohawk without looking obnoxiously punk'ish or stereotypical. I wanna play with it.

Five: Wahhhh! I'm shy! Wahhh! I'm used to be chased rather than doing the chasing.

Six: Health foods store that I freqent is hiring. Perhaps this is a second chance.

Blah

1. In the name of contributing to others' happiness and peace of mind, I've mostly been subscribing to giving into what other people want of me. It's good that I'm being compromising, but I've noticed that I've been allowing others' expectations of me influence my behavior more than I should. I can't let others' truth (created by my lies) become my own truth.

2. I've been saving up excessive Kelka and Savage Love listening for a lonesome, rainy day.

3. The last time I listened to Savage Love, there was a call from a lesbian-identified woman who is in a loving, sexual relationship with a man. While I'm cool with people identifying themselves however they want to (e.g. you don't need to penis/vagina to identify as a man/woman), that woman also seems like she's exercising some denial. Why can't she just say she's bi? I guess I can't talk: I feel like identifying as gay/queer is more accurate than identifying as straight.

4. I've only really realized that I'm relatively short (5'3") within the past year. I'm not sure why this is. Maybe it's because of my former life as sporty spice: I could jump pretty high and hit most of my shots on the basketball court in my whippersnapper days. Boy is 7 inches taller than me, and I only notice it when we're in front of the mirror. Everyone that I've liked or been with has been taller than me; I wonder if I'd get all butch and overcompensating if I dated a girl shorter than me.

5. Boy and I clarified some topics regarding his threesome fantasy: he's cool with my being selfish and going solo for a while, but that the ideal would be for me to have a girlfriend and for him to get some threesomes out of it. It amused me when he indignantly asserted, "I don't want two girlfriends!"

6. Yeah, me neither. It most certainly is possible to be a misogynistic woman who is attracted to women.

7. On a similar note, does the fact that I sometimes get turned on by my own body make me a narcissist?

Assessment

If only there was more time for blogging and self-expression. Here are some things I've recently noticed:

1: Collared shirts on girls are a turn on.

2: It takes a lot for me to really like a girl and to fully want her. I check people out all the time, but it's been a long time since I've noticed or known a girl that is that ideal blend of femininity and masculinity that really sincerely moves all of me.

2.5: I feel like my tastes are always changing. Prettiness, while nice to look at, is becoming more and more boring, and I need some physical character to really feel like I want to touch someone.

3: I feel trapped by my body almost all the time, but it's not really in a gender identity disordered sort of way. I'm partly used to it, and I partly feel like this feeling has lodged itself in me. I'm not sure if I'll ever completely extract this subdermal layer of frustration. I need to give paradigm-shifting another try; we can only really change our minds. I was pretty fucking carefree a while back.

4. I've been letting my small, inner housewife out a bit lately: I'm finding satisfaction in cooking for myself and others. It's gratifying to create something from scratch and to crave its taste. It's also gratifying to bring joy to those you care about with what you've made.

Moments

Me: *whips out Slim Clip*
Boy: Nice purse.
Me [indignantly]: It's an anti-purse!

Me: I need to get something from my purse. Uh, I mean my girly bag.

Boy: We need to find some tits for you to play with.

Me: Yeah, I'm not terribly interested in meeting people online at the moment.
Boy: [silent]
Me: You're thinking I should advertise for a girl, aren't you?
Boy: Maybe.

Bursting at the seams

I've never really been the type of girl who wished her boobs were different. I did go through an andro-obsessive phase in which I wanted them to be smaller, but then I saw how pointless that was since I wasn't going to try to change them via weight loss or surgery.

I pretty much jump at any opportunity I can to wear as little as I can when it comes to tops. If it's warm enough, I'm content to walk around the house in shorts and a bra.

And about a month ago I stopped packing a shirt to sleep in when I spend the night with boy. There's really no point to my wearing a shirt, and I like easy access. I find it liberating.

On the other hand, when I'm stressed out or feel like I'm being threatened by something, I love my vests. They make me feel warm and safe. There's something almost inexplicably gratifying in how they make my chest look more flat. It's a different, asexual sort of freedom, and it feels soo good sometimes.

It kind of reminds me of the lyrics to this song.

Lip Love

I feel like I've been mopey and ungrateful, so I want to write about something that I'm lucky to have.

As a general rule of thumb, I've noticed that men see kissing as means to an end. Sure, they can enjoy and value it, but at some point, they want to fuck. This applies to women too. Let's face it: if you spend forever on the appetizer, you'll never get to dessert.

But I remember, for example, how I would bring ex boyfriend's head towards me for a postcoital kiss, and he'd be halfway there. His body language would say, Why do you want to kiss now? Let's just cuddle.

Current boyfriend, however, loves kissing. All the time. It is our catalyst for everything, and it enhances the intensity of all physical interactions. And our styles of kissing are very compatible. Every long makeout session feels like a conversation with our lips. We don't even cuddle or spoon that much because that would decrease the amont of lip lockage.

I didn't know I'd ever find this in another person, much less a boy. But I'm happy I have.

Stream

This song is coming to mind.

I've been learning lessons from Dexter: one of the only ways to get the chance to be real and who you are is to stay cool and stick to your lies. When you're surrounded by people who need you to be something that differs from who you are, deceit is likely to be the best tool you have.

But sometimes deceit is too harsh a way of putting it. If you love someone, then you find yourself doing not-100% honest things to keep them happy. How often are we ever really honest about who we really are anyways?

On a lighter note, boy and I agree that girls are hot when they wear wifebeaters. If I had more spare time, I'd get me some wifebeater arms and be a lesbian cliche. A hot lesbian cliche.

I used to hate having a rather female figure. I've now come to fully accept and embrace it. Several people have told me to show it off more. Even if I can admit that I look good, I still do not fully identify with the "showing it off" type of style. I think I was almost always personally subscribe to layers, subtlety, and simplicity.

I really identify with transgendered individuals. I do not wish to be a man, but I know what it feels like to be at odds with your body in every moment of every day--in so many different ways that range from superficial to essential. It's a frustrating state of dissonance.

I had reached a sense of peace and acceptance of this disconnect a few months ago. But now I feel like I've lost it, and I'm trying to get it back. I know I can do it, and I know how to do it. I'm not sure how long it will take for me to get myself back though.

I need to be grateful for what I have. I need to accept mind-body dissonance as an inevitable part o fmy life so I don't get so angry about it. I kind of related to Max when he shaved off his beard. Why create or add to a rift between oneself and one's skin?

Test

Boy is a talented, passionate photographer, and he finally got a camera that he was waiting to get for years. He wanted to take pictures of me, and he was excited about it. This is a nice, normal thing to do, right?

The problem is that I am quite camera shy. Translation: the second he pointed the camera at me, I flinched, covered my face with my hands, and locked myself into the fetal position.

This involuntary wave of shyness took over, and I wished I was wearing a hoodie to turtle it up under.

And yet, we're planning on incorporating mirrors into our sex life. This delicious thought has me smirking, and it's a testament to how low my self-consciousness levels are.

So what the hell? The extent of my camera shyness surprised us both. And I explained that I don't think I look like what pictures say I look like. And this dichotomy has led me to generally avoid cameras.

It really reminds me of the striking mismatch a transgendered person might feel. Like, What? That's me?! Nooo!

I have some options on what to do:

a) continue to avoid cameras
b) allow myself to be photographed and view the pictures minimally
c) allow myself to be photographed and force myself to view the pictures frequently

I have some options on how to view this:
a) a chore to push through for someone else
b) an exercise in challenging myself
c) something new to do, and something new to detach from the results of

Hmmm....

Typecasting

I'm falling for a boy. This is the first time that I've hit it off with a guy who isn't eternally grouchy, cynical, arrogant, and/or dominant.

You know, all of those stereotypical MAN qualities. All of these old turn-on's have become big turn off's. After getting fed up with the last one, I made a point to not invest myself with any other version of him and what he represents.

I used to think I wouldn't enjoy a slightly girly guy who brings out my silly side. Who knew I could have fun spending time with someone who I feel eternally giggly around. Around him, my dry, intellectual wit tends to temporarily fly out the window. And he seems to enjoy watching me act a damn fool. We'll see how long this lasts for.

It's a refreshing break from living in my big, dense head. And it's refreshing to pleasantly surprise myself. And, at the end of the day, I'll still get scooped up and tossed around like the toy that I am. Tee hee.

Such a girl

I like being a girl, even if I could be considered a slight disgrace to the standard definition of what a girl is supposed to be (e.g. I still don't know how to put on eye shadow, and I still whip out my toy lightsaber from time to time).

It occurred to me that I will always see myself as a gay girl. Even when I'm not really into girls and when I spend all day dying to do dirty things to a boy I'm into.

Perhaps this does not make sense.

But I'm always going to keep my nails short, avoid purses, have a blunt sense of humor, gush over sci-fi, etc. I suppose a more accurate identification would be "boyish girl." Sexual orientation and gender expression don't always overlap.

I re-realized this when I was giving a super girly friend of mine sex advice; it occurred to me that I am way more into dick than she ever will be.

But I'm a queer! And I say this after a day of indulgent, amazing, heterosexual sex. Hmm, I sound like I'm trying to prove something here. I'm really not.

On the other hand, I used to be all stern and emotionally bottled up all the time. I could be a worrying whirlwind on the inside but wear a monotone mask on the outside. I can still be that way, and I know how to use it to my advantage when "playing it cool" helps a situation.

But the weepy, expressive version of me has been gradually coming out over the past year or so. I don't feel weepy very often to begin with, but I'd say it's healthier to let it out than keep it in. If someone has a problem with it, then it's better to know that so I can eliminate/downgrade them socially.

It's exhausting to put up a strong front all the time; I wonder if men feel this way. We all know that men cry, but they aren't expected to. I wonder if this makes it harder for them when they do.

Who knows. Cheers.

*Tilts head

Why did I only see men looking at Valentine's Day cards at the grocery store?

Palette

I've been feeling different lately. I've been taking a break from my [over]thinking self and tapping into my feeling self. And it's like I'm feeling the emotional version of black (or is it white?). I'm feeling the color that is all colors. I'm feeling the emotions that logically contradict each other. Somehow. Calm, scared, anxious, excited, sad, happy, etc.

I was randomly listening to music from a very depressive phase of my life, and it made me feel uppity.

I spent a portion of my previous Saturday cooking. Cooking for 1) myself and 2) my new potential man. I didn't cook for him because I'm "the woman." I did it because he's been feeding me, and I wanted to return the favor. Besides, I can pull my weight in the food creation department when I put my mind to it.

I grew up rebelling against the notion that it's the woman's job to do the cooking. Now I'm doing it happily. I'm not sure what this means or if it should be interpreted.

I [unintentionally] hurt one person, and I [effortlessly] made another person happy all in one week. I have to embrace paradoxes, contradictions, ironies, ambiguities, etc. Life is and isn't [adjective] all at the same time. I am everything. Life is everything. The lines can be blurred or even removed.

OH, and we have a President who has Muslim family members. Talk about blurring the lines!

It's getting harder and harder to see anything besides gray. And it's not scary anymore.

Cats and Dogs

In spite of how much I appreciate what they have to offer outside of their genitalia, I appear to have no close male friends. I certainly have much-appreciated male acquaintances, but I don't have many of them that I have been strictly platonic with. It's not that I'm a big slut; I've always had significantly more female friends.

But in my experience, there are usually ulterior motives between males and females. Why don't I have this issue with girls? Because I spent the first 20 years of my life denying that I like them? Because there are fewer girls for a girl to choose from?

I want to know what it's like to be close to a guy and have no ulterior motives. Maybe it's not possible, but I'd like to give it a try.

The eternal bender

1. I'm jealous of how it takes men less prep time to look sexy. Sure, they're expected to be buff, but they have short hair, don't wear make-up, and can have hairy legs (although I don't want to grow a forest on my legs).

2. I love how guys who like me are caught off guard when they say something like, "I'm just not into blondes," and I reply, "Mee too!"

3. I had my wifey over for a sleepover. When she said, "Goodnight, my husband," I realized why I go for the tall, somewhat dominant men: they make me feel like "the woman." I don't want to feel imbalanced by always being one or the other.

4. My friend randomly called me up to inform me that the hot-as-hell Stephanie March will be returning for a few episodes of Law and Order SVU. This is nice to hear.

Short n' Sweet

One: The other day I was complaining to my friend about how much I miss the art of the girly sleepover. Just because I've entered my mid-twenties, avoid junk food, and need a solid seven hours of sleep doesn't mean I'm too old to have sleepovers filled with girl-talk, food, and movies.

So I revived the art this weekend, and while we were planning it, we talked about painting our nails. But that was as close as we were getting to actually doing that. And we went to sleep at midnight. And there was no junk food. I'm hoping to have another one featuring Monopoly. Talk about bein' one bitchin' badass.

Two: It has come to my attention that there are short women out there who wear heels to make themselves look taller. I always thought they wore heels because they look good and make a cool, imposing click-clack sound. When I do wear them, it's for the latter.

I do not understand wanting to be taller. It's easier to get spooned if you're shorter. I'd much prefer being the spoon-ee over the spooner--even if the spooner has a wider range of places where his/her hands can wander. But that's just me.

Three: I was on a music nostalgia kick, and I rediscovered the awesomeness that is this song. Here are the lyrics, and here is an explanation of the lyrics. I like how the ambiguity of the lyrics creates a universal and relatable experience that many are likely to have been through. And it's catchy.