I went for a run tonight. The whole time, I was thinking, "Poor big tender-flesh-es women!" Because I'm not even a big tender-fleshes woman, I'm just a medium sized one (usually less than small one), and I was hating it. It's no wonder you don't see them running, that often, unless they have surgically enhanced tender flesh-es. The bouncing and flopping and OH! Forget that. They just walk. Fast.
Then I came home and shaved my legs. They've been past stubble-y for a while now. On Sunday I was more than a little worried that someone would notice since I wore a skirt. I really have no clothes that look good on me right now, and I don't think about it so much in our little rural area, but I feel pretty stupid at church. I know no one cares, and that's not what church is about, but it's weird to feel frumpy and hairy and slippered when there are high heels and combed hair and dresses that sash in the front.
I guess I could comb my leg hair.
I have no make up kit for Amaya to rummage through so she makes do with her chalk. She colors her eyebrows and the tips of her fingers. When she puts chapstick on (from my mom), she rubs it all over her upper lip. I feel a tinge bad that she has no example to guide her primping. I always say no when she asks if she can paint her nails with Minami. I'm mean.
Amaya put a necklace on Kadin, and Scott mentioned something about her getting into my jewelry box. Jake laughed and said, "Nope, because her jewelry box is a plastic case about that big (1"x1") that has her wedding rings and a quarter." I added, "And a loose pearl." The quarter is silver, so doesn't that count?
I checked my weight at Pam's before my run. That's all I'm going to say about that.
I have caught myself staring at girls sometimes. Staring at the things that make them girls. Really, girls. Like the fact that they are wearing a shirt that isn't just a solid color simple cut t-shirt, or the height of their heels, or their cutesy curves, or the way they styled their hair. I'll stare at them and think, "Now why didn't I think of that?"
Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever get the hang of being female. I'm turning 30 next month. Maybe it's too late. I feel a sort of wistfulness about it. Like a memory made from a book once read. Like a lost summer. Something about the fragrance of apples. A breezy sitting room. A color beyond the water's glare. And gone.
10 comments:
G has a makeup kit that they found in santa cruz in the free pile. We won't even go into how gross that is. But everytime she puts makeup on, she looks like a clown or a five dollar whore. It's hilarious.
And running is just a chance to jiggle ones wobbly bits. No more, no less. Last time I went, this beautiful, young, African American girl floated past me with her long legged stride, and glorious body. I just laughed. I didn't know where to start with the comparisons. No point anyway.
i will 35 in november and i'm still not girly. everything i know, i've learned from my 25 year old sister
I hate to tell you, but you have years of girlness ahead of you, thanks in part to your beautiful mom.
Bekah: I should totally get Amaya one of those, just for picture's sake. And I swear beautiful people purposely run by me for their own self esteem.
Footprints: I observe my mom a lot, but I have a hard time working it in to my actual self.
Pam: I can't wait until I look older than her. ;)
ha! i think i missed out on the girlieness too. plane colored t-shirts and boars shorts are wayyyy too comfortable.
and i need to come mee mr. moze in person. he looks adorable!
and... if you are done with the "belly bandit" could i maybe steal it from you after this bebe comes out? i was bugging jill and she said i could use it when your done! but if your still using it no big deal!
I can't wait to meet the little Mr. I'm in love with the chubs. There's something about baby chubs. I hope I'm not messing up too badly on the parenting thing either. It's one of those things where I tell myself I'm doing my best and that's all I can do. That's what I'll tell the kids when they're grown and start blaming me for things I did "wrong". What else can we do?
When I run it's the flesh on my bum that's on it's own rin. Yikes.
Oh girliness, shmirliness. Just you be you. That's good enough. And don't comb your leg either.
A beautifully written post. Very poetic.
And my secretive secret is more of a surprise. Which will be unveiled near the mid-end of October. But not your mid-end October, if you get my drift. There are frequent flier miles involved. And an early November school break.
hee hee
Hey, your verifier say frappie. You may not be girly, but you're frappie fer sure.
Or maybe I should say that when someone gets her surprise she's going to be frappie. Short for freakin' happy.
Shhhhhhhhhh
I knew it!
I will still try to keep it a secret. Yes!
Ashley: Anyone who can wear a bikini as well as you is DEFINITELY a girl. :)
Jill: I think I'm just used to the bum flesh, so I don't notice.
these posts have totally resonated - the ever elusive patience; the absence of smooth legs and jewelry - i'm always wondering how girls do their hair. i mean, i'm lazy about it, but there's a lot of ineptitude too - like i didn't establish the muscle memory in high school and know i'm too old.
it doesn't count as blog stalking if you know stephanie, so worry not.
this post is funny to me because i kind of relate and kind of don't. (i love to shave my legs, for example.)
girls are so cool, but what is classified as "feminine" is sometimes way off. that's just what i think.
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