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.

Lowered Expectations

I haven't really hung out with my female friends much as of late. I could stand to not be in the presence of testosterone for an evening. Not that I don't enjoy being desired, and I am currently in a state of aching boyfriend withdrawal, but I sorta forgot what it's like to interact with people and not get groped.

I'm realizing that a part of me doesn't really want to try to find a girl to date. I feel like this is wrong; I should stop being afraid and try to experience different things. I'm young, my tits are still perky, and life is short. But, ugh, I feel like I don't have it in me. I suppose this would change if an amazing girl was in the picture. Then I'd have no choice because I don't say no to amazing people unless they repeatedly treat me like shit.

But amazing girls don't really fall into one's laps. At least they don't fall into mine. I'd have to look. Do I look casually or with some drive? Meh, it never hurts to keep your eyes open.

I need to remember that girls can be as mean as boys. We all expect men to be douchebags, particularly about sex. And they pretty much all are douchebags about sex at some point (to varying degrees). So the blows I've taken from boys have hurt less in a way because I hold them to a lower standard; I need to adopt this same standard for girls.

In some ways, I have the potential to romantically "have it all," but I can't help but be skeptical.

No.

This evening I got a call from my best friend's boyfriend. I hadn't heard from her in a while, and she hadn't been responding to my calls/texts. I was starting to worry, but she does things like get busy with life and lose her cell phone charger, so it wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

But my gut instinct was correct: she tried to kill herself. My best fucking friend who I can say anything to. She's the first person I outed myself to way back in high school. I had so much respect for her in high school and prided myself on winning her over because she intimidated so many people. The friend that I've always been able to get support, insight, humor, and understanding from tried to say goodbye to existence forever.

I feel like a crappy friend. I feel like I shoulda been more keen and diligent about watching out for her. I knew she wasn't feeling terribly happy with her life, but I didn't think she would do something like this. We are, after all, mildly depressive people. But I shoulda seen through the her tough exterior.

I need to step it up and be a better friend. I need to give more.

Whore Thyself

After months upon months of waiting and working, my life appears to be heading in the direction that I've been wanting it to.

I've noticed, however, that the buysness has left me with little time for myself and my personal pursuits. I've been spending the majority of my time attending to life's inevitable obligations, pleasing others, and getting bullied. It's been taking a toll.

Furthermore, it's gotten to a point where I'm falling into a pattern of being afraid to be assertive with anyone because the best way to keep the peace is to just give in regardless of how I feel.

Lame. This is unlike me, and it's a step backwards. When did I become so accepting of oppression? Sure, we all have to do things we don't 100% enjoy to survive and compromise, but this is starting to cross a line. I need to treat myself with more respect.

And, for the sake of comedic relief, I'll link to this clip (Shane and Alice's clothes, however, are embarrassing).

Sigh, I miss the joy of listening to a new Kelka podcast. I hope that day comes again soon.

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.

All Apologies

So I'm in my mid to late twenties. Most of my friends are too. I've been hearing more and more of them say things like, "I thought I would be further along in my life now," or "I feel behind" I've been noticing a lot of feelings of inadequacy over not making enough money, not owning property, or not being in the ideal relationship.

It's kind of depressing. Not only because the people I care about feel dissatisfied with their lives, but because I'm not sure having all of these things is going to guarantee peace of mind/fulfillment. And what happens to one's sense of self when these things disappear/are threatened?

I feel like people want things like marriage and a certain career more for the status these things display than for the enjoyment they bring. I'm definitely not anti-ambition, and I can see myself being married (and even having kids!) if it was right. But it feels like these goals are a bandwagon, and it's a bit of a downer.

No, I'm not going to try to preach that you are the all singing, all dancing crap of the world.

But when I'm really honest with myself, I can't see myself being anything beyond my state of mind in this moment. Life is a series of moments, and I'm afraid of looking back on my life and not appreciating what each moment had to offer.

The irony is that I've been an anxious insomniac with a knot-ridden back. Turning off my mind, relaxing, and floating downstream has been proving to be difficult for me as of late. And I think the source of this anxiety is the desire to push my life forward and achieve some long overdue goals. Maybe this is just imprinted in the human condition.

I can't speak for others, but I suppose I will always be trying to find balance between appreciating and supplicating.

Mini Rants

My moodiness is subsiding somewhat. But still...

I do not like the whole concept of there being a size 0. It sends a destructive messsage. The smallest size should be either a 1 or 2, depending on if the store goes by even or odd numbers. I'm no mathematician, but it should be a number that has a value to it.

I'm also tired of being around stereotypical female insecurity. Luckily I only get the occasional dose of it now. I know it's a part of being human, but it's been annoying me lately. Just, fucking stop comparing yourself to the people you think you Should be like! Stop acting how you think you Should act! Just be yourself. As much you can. Because we're all deriviative in some way anyways.

I finally realized that I do not always equate prettiness with beauty; in fact I mostly equate prettiness with boringness. (This, however, does not mean that I find ugliness attractive). This makes me even more picky. I'm picky about everything: who I spend my time with, what I eat, and now who I jones for.

Blah, I dunno why I've suddenly become so militant again. I need to chill.

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.

"And that's why ya don't kiss straight girls."

If only there was that one-armed guy from Arrested Development to teach me this lesson. For some reason, I didn't want to write about my first experience with a girl here. I figured it was a bit too complicated, and I didn't want to be a drama queen. But this is the place to write about complexities, and I'm over it now. So here goes.

As with any other remotely intelligible thing I write, the objective of this post is to 1) explore the grey areas of sexuality, 2) attempt to write about something complex and significant with a degree of objectivity, and 3) to question the actions of the involved parties.

My first experience with a girl didn't go over so well for either of us. It put a huge dent in a friendship that had a lot of potential.

Here's a cliche: the first girl I kissed was my best friend and roommate in college. We had a unique chemistry that is hard to explain. We were sorta opposites and sorta the same person all at the same time. We could make simple things like going grocery shopping feel like an amusing adventure. We could have satisfying intellectually conversations and be silly as hell. We could peacefully co-exist and still find the other person fun to be around.

Here's another cliche: we had a lot of great things in common (e.g. athleticism, a love for nerdy movies, etc). One of the not-so-great things we had in common was the fact that we both dabbled in the world obsessing over how much you weigh and eat. We both had issues prior to meeting each other, and when we started to bond over this perverted commonality, we fed into each other's unhealthiness.

Here's the last cliche: we were drunk during all of our little explorations of the XX + XX equation. I didn't take it so well when I discovered that her "solution" was straight and mine wasn't.

As a friend, I loved her lots. The option of seeing her as more than a friend didn't occur to me until we started drinking together and getting progressively more touchy feely as time went on. When the option did occur to me, I really wanted it and looked for opportunities to get drunk with her. What can I say? I was young and stupid.

When we finally just had a big makeout session like a year later, I had a big internal woohoo! moment. I was pretty ecstatic for a few days until I inferred that it was only a curious exploration to her, and she wasn't likely to return the feelings I had for her. It bummed me out, but I eventually came to accept that this would not happen again.

But then it did. With more intensity a few months later. I was high as a mothafucking kite until she flat out said that we won't be doing anything physical anymore. I completely sunk when I heard this.

To be fair, we didn't communicate very well. I didn't express how I felt to her. Even though she was more of the initiator, she didn't intend to lead me on and reject me (although it felt like it at the time). I made a point to keep my feelings hidden because I couldn't deal with them, I was afraid of putting myself out there, and I knew that she was probably straight.

On top of all this, I didn't yet realize that one reason why I developed an eating disorder in the first place was to avoid admitting to being a queer. So for me to fall first for a straight girl with an eating disorder hit several nerves I wasn't fully aware of. Furthermore, we were at different points in the "admitting you have a problem" department, and this created another rift between us.

I resented her for not returning my feelings and for encouraging my self-destruction. I also took a few slightly homophobic remarks she said to heart. She resented me for being cold and passive-aggressive.

We tried to patch things up before she would have to move across the country after graduating, but I could never bring myself to explicitly tell her all that was bothering me. I partly didn't see the point in telling a straight girl that I was in love with her. When she left, I was drenched in a bitter little cocktail composed of one part anger, one part loss, and one part vindictiveness.

There were many months of fights, passive-aggressiveness, and unfriendly silence. We missed each other, but we both let the negativity fester. We eventually de-briefed these confusing incidents a few years later. She said she didn't entirely know what brought them on. I told her that I felt like a used experiment to her.

She admitted to being a bit on the bi-curious side, but she said she didn't want to know what it was like to kiss a girl; she wanted to know what it was like to kiss me. And while she loved me, she wasn't attracted to me.

Guh? Okay, the only reason this makes the remotest of sense in my mind is because I know this girl and it kinda clicks in my head because I know the rapport we had. I am also generally accepting of the spectrum of emotions that can fuel the varying levels of affection we want to show.

I hate to cite this, but it sorta reminds me of Claire and Edie in Six Feet Under. I wasn't a fan of Mena Suvari playing that role, but it was a similar situation. The two had an aesthetic appreciation of the other as a person, but it wasn't sexual. And I have to say that my feelings for her weren't predominately sexual either, but I didn't want to be strictly platonic either. Yet another annoying gray area.

So she wanted to express her intense platonic love for me with her lips and wandering hands (she described it as "lusting after me emotionally/spiritually"). Again, this transubstantiation of sorts sorta makes sense and sorta doesn't. Regardless, I accepted what she said, and we moved on. We both felt refreshed and grudge-free. It was great.

But then she got pregnant shortly after getting married. It dawned on me that this person lives across the country from me, is married, and will become a mother. I didn't see myself fitting into the picture. Our long distance friendship was pretty unsatisfying, and I felt rather disconnected from the phase of life she was entering. I was so tired of missing her and being locked in an aggravating state of limbo.

Eventually, I picked a fight with her, went out of my way to push her buttons, and we exchanged some mean words. That was the last fight. For real. All of the nastiness made it easier to say goodbye and just let go. While I was mad for a while, I found it easier to free myself from feeling hostile towards her.

I occasionally wonder if I did the right thing or if I was drawing one too many imaginary lines in my head. Did I really have to see her pending motherhood as such a threat? Was I allowing my own personal issues with parenting to color my perspective? Could we have made a long distance friendship work somehow?

I don't know for sure. I do know that I feel better after emotionally separating myself from her. I'm pretty sure she feels the same way. Do I wish things had turned out differently? Definitely. But it was time to move on, and I realized that I was wasting emotional energy pining over re-creating "the good ol' days" with her.

But some people simply become a part of you, whether you want them to or not. I'm not sure how she and I managed to establish such an intense connection that is difficult to forget. When things were good, I loved how we seemed to really understand each other and tried to respect each other's differences. And we didn't completely give up on trying to work through our problems.

I may not talk to her anymore, and I am not likely to see her again, but she probably will always be someone that I think about and remember fondly.

So the lessons I learned from this experience are as follows:

1) Don't kiss straight girls unless you are confident that they are at least bisexual or that you have the great powers of converting.

2) Don't do the whole wahhh I don't wanna be gay so I'm gonna self-destruct and/or live in shameful denial bullshit. It's a big waste of time. Accept yourself as a freak like everyone else and move the fuck on.

3) Don't have an eating disorder. It's stupid. I'm proud to say that I'm done with all of that crap after many years of hard work.

4) Communicate with more directness and don't rely on booze.

5) If you are romantically/physically interested in a friend, you should give serious consideration to whether you are willing to risk losing that friendship for the sake of taking things to the next level. There are some people that you just don't want to lose.

Angry

I hate living in my body. I have spent a good portion of my life working my ass off to earn priviliges that almost everyone around me takes for granted. It feels like I'm always teetering between -1 and 0. Blah, forget about all of the gender dissociation bullshit. To me, all that stuff seems whiny and self-absorbed now.

Right now, I feel like the next person who complains to me about some superficial dissatisfaction with the skin they're in (looks, weight, cup size, muscle mass) is going to be verbally assualted.

Ironically, I have a healthy appreciation of my own aesthetics. If only being thin, curvy, and proportional solved all of your problems like all of those ads directly and indirectly say. I used to think my body didn't reflect who I am, but now I think the opposite.

But it's like living in a house built by Frank Lloyd Wright: it looks good, but it's a bitch to maintain and starts to fall apart sooner.

This week has ranged from awful crazy to awesome crazy. I'm so in love. I'm so trapped. I'm racking my brain trying to figure out solutions. I realized how awesome it is to know amazing people that I value and can call up for support, advice, laughs, hugs, etc. I need to appreciate what I have.

I am not my limitations though. I need to remember that. I am how I deal with them/what I learn from them. It's what you think and do that ultimately matters.

Bitchy

I had some issues with the whole idea of a threesome that I discussed with boyfriend. I kind of let the bitchy lesbian in me come out for a few minutes. I voiced how I'm not terribly into the idea of being with a girl as means to the end of turning on a guy.

Like, lesbians exist for pleasing each other. It's sort of an anti-cock act (at least in my mind), and having it be something to do for a guy's pleasure just screams cock always wins in the end to me.

His response was that this goal is most certainly not all about him, and he was aiming for everyone to benefit (both emotionally and physically) from this situation. He had stated all of this to me before, and he is quite the reciprocal, talented, patient, and orally-fixated lover (I really hit the jackpot in this department). But I still had to let the raging dyke in me say her piece. And I feel better.

On a related note, I tried to use youtube for scratching my itch for Xena. I figured it was easier and more dignified than digging out my tapes from, er, 10 years ago. And most of the results are of Xena and Gabrielle kissing.

Of course. The truth is that both characters were bisexual. And they actually did shit besides each other. Like unrealistically kick a profuse amount of ass and change history while prancing around in skimpy outfits. Jeez. What a buncha perverts.

In my experience, straightness generally does win in the end. Deep down, this still hurts a soft spot in me. Ironically, however, my own actions prove this point: I'm in a heterosexual relationship, and I'm generally happier when I'm into guys and more in touch with my feminine side. If you can't beat em', join em'? Does it have to be a competition?

But I find my own hypocrisy bothersome on some level. Consequently, I find little ways to blow off steam about it (e.g. stating how icky I find purses to be, recoiling at being described as "straight," etc.)

I can't say I feel distressed or divided about this as much as I used to though. Partly because I have more pressing things to be concerned with. And few people are one-sided and free of contradictions. And the people who are could probably best be described as "boring." So I'm happy to ride this dichotomy for as long as it wants.

Disappearing Act

I've been having Xena cravings lately. I keep trying to deny them, but they won't go away. She's so strong, and watching her is regressively theraputic and inspiring. It appeals to the archetypical desire for a hero one can identify with.

I want to be stronger than I am. Mentally more so than physically (although it's kind of sad that I need boyfriend to open cans for me). I'm realizing that, while I have come so far in building up psychological strength, I still have so much more growing that I want and simply need to do. I need to internally subert all external attempts to make me an unhappy, brainwashed pawn. I need to develop more constructive thinking patterns.

I feel like I'm disappearing both physically and mentally. I spend too much time catering to others. I'm tired of having other people's voices in my head telling me what to do, what to like, and how to present myself. I just want to relax and be without worrying about keeping up appearances for some other trying to use me for something.

I also found out that I weigh the least I have ever weighed as an adult. I didn't even notice until the numbers made it undeniably clear. I guess life has been too consuming for me to tune into such a drastic change in my own place of residence.

Something's gotta give. I'm the only one who can make it happen. I may never be able to go through life without being punished for everything, and I may not have much time for all the things I want to do. But I'll be damned if I let this crap make me mentally stagnate into a reactionary victim.

"Stop listening to the static."

I could easily whip up another analyzing gender identity-typa post in 30 minutes tops, but I'm not feeling it.

The importance of mental clarity has been dawning on me quite clearly these past few weeks. I may be a nutrition nut, but I'm really seeing how unhealthy it can be to allow some greasy thinking patterns to clog the walls of my consciousness.

I could be on a vegan diet free of gluten, sugar, and most allergens, but if I'm thinking crap, then I might as well be eating McDonald's three times a day.

This week I remembered what it feels like to truly hate someone. They were going out of their way to intentionally attack me and all of the hard work I've put into [successfully] reaching several challenging personal goals. I rarely feel this emotion in a serious way. I can usually muster up some compassion for the people who aggravate me; I don't even hate any of the few people on my "Dead to Me" list. I make the effort to see the gray areas with people.

But I keep feeling overpowered by a pure, black hatred. I find myself hoping that they will leave existence Forever. I guess we all have our thresholds.

Many people who claim to love you really just need you to be something that you're not. They need you to be what they want, and they often claim that their happiness is dependent upon you changing to meet their impossible fantasies. It's very rare to find someone who wants you to be you all the time.

Furthermore, they will impose the opaque image they have already drawn up of me directly over the reality of me; it is largely independent of what I do. So while it might be difficult to be misunderstood, it is pointless to try to be understood.

In spite of how trapped and discouraged I feel, I can't let things bother me so much. I am what I think; I am how I react. I need to make my mind my own work of art that I work on every waking minute of the day. Because it's my mind, and no one else and no other external circumstance has the right to infiltrate it without my permission.

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.

Only Passing By?

This song is coming to mind.

It's really not difficult for a bisexual female to find a guy who is more than happy to encourage her to go fuck a girl or few.

I've been feeling like a happily monogamous straight girl for the past two months. And I got permission (which I didn't ask for) to chase girls. I get to do whatever I want with a chick and come back to him to give a [very detailed] report.

Furthermore, he thinks it'd be even better if I found someone that I like both physically and emotionally. And, as one might expect, boy is hoping to get a threesome out of it eventually. A threesome in which all parties really like one another.

It's a complex goal to achieve, and there would have to be a lot of communication and negotiation for it run smoothly and be enjoyable for everyone.

But I ended up learning more that I expected to from this formulaic conversation. I haven't had the most pleasant of experiences with girls. He's noticed how I have an almost misogynistic view of them. And in a way, I've given up exploring that side of myself.

So while he admits he wants the stereotypical male fantasy that men are programmed to want (the shyness he exuded while confessing it was too adorable), he also wants to see me have some pleasant experiences with girls. He reminded me that this possibility exists. Somewhere along the line, I stopped even thinking about it.

Maybe it's because I've always found it easier to be a monosexual, and it's obviously easier to be a straight monosexual than a gay one. And, for whatever reasons, I have a thicker skin when it comes to stereotypical male meanness.

It then dawned on me that I've gotten used to believing that I don't deserve what I want. It's not a low self-esteem thing. It's a "this is simply not my lot in life" thing. I've had one too many humbling experiences this past year that have shown me how I'm really just a small, destructible girl with a big head.

And to have a loved one pick up on some of that and point it out to you is kind of like being invited back into playing the game that is life.

I got boyfriend to listen to a few Dan Savage podcasts, and Dan said something that resonated with him: your partner should be making shit happen for you. I guess I've only been with a few people who really had an interest in doing justice to this idea. And now that someone like that is right in front of me, it feels foreign.

I want so badly to be as GGG as I possibly can. I have no idea what will happen or if this fantasy will be realized. We're not looking to jump into anything at this point. I do know that I'm happy with who I am with, and I need to stop shortchanging myself.

At this point, however, I'm almost afraid of kissing anybody else because I know that it won't be as amazing as kissing my boy is.

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.

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....