I know, I know, that gender expression is different than sexuality, but, well, not always.
I’m standing in my cute new sling-back peep-toe pumps and the calf length Jones Wear chiffon skirt, and I have the desire to have a tatoo on my ankle. Just a little one, just a sexy one.
Remember the line in Wedding Crashers about the girls with the tats at the base of their spine, and how they were guaranteed fun?
Yeah, kinda like that. I just want to be the girl, even if I know that’s impossible.
I know, however, that the vast majority of people who see me don’t know that I was never the girl.
My passing distance is very close, and unless they are looking for trannys, to them I look like a forty-something business woman who probably has college age kids, not someone who never was a girl.
This means that I may be in fear, but the gent still smiled and held the door for me at the mini-mart.
I just need to remember to smile back.
I also need to remember to express entitlement, and not shrink from confrontation. You may not know this, but women can be aggressive when they are shopping, and women with power just push back, rather than moving to another aisle. I don’t do that, yet.
I have been going to women’s rooms more this week. After using them I feel two things.
First I feel confident and assured in my own womanhood, centered in myself and not in the imposed fear I am “supposed” to feel.
But much more importantly, I feel like I don’t need to use the rest room anymore, and I can continue in the world without being crippled by a full bladder.
Yeah, being centered is better.