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Musings on Being a Woman

October 12, 2009

I own seven dresses. Three are little black dresses.
I do not have room for all of my heels in my ten-shoe closet hanger. Granted, I also keep booze there, but that is not the point.
Most of my clothes are Anthropologie or Free People brands. I specifically like Ella Moss and Ric Rac. (I don’t pay full price, I bargain hunt)
Earlier this month, I also bought perfume from Anthropologie.
I just invested money in getting a basic (mineral based sheer veil, various kinds of lip gloss, mascara, brushes, etc.) make up set going.
My RSS feed has three wedding blogs on it. In my defense, mostly B’s fault.
I really, really enjoy sex with men. Not all men – there are still distinct types of men I want nothing to do with and I feel they are still the majority – but once you filter those out… yum.
I crave chocolate like woah.
I cry during chick flicks. Even those I’ve seen before.
I read romance novels. I actually have particular authors that I like.
My amazon wishlist is mostly kitchen supplies.
I absolutely love baking.

What makes someone female?
I thought about that constantly during high school and college, when I felt like “girl” did not fit. Or, it fit, but rather awkwardly, like a pair of hand me down shoes two sizes too small. I came to the conclusion that the problem was not me. Rather, the problem was society’s definition of what a woman was.
Yet now, years later, I might actually fit what society’s definition of girl is.

But none of those above listed things – things that were absolutely not true three years ago (or less?) – make me a girl. Nor do they make me a term that does fit rather nicely – woman.
I would have become a woman without those trappings. So what made me a woman?
This process, this becoming a woman, is actually what my back tattoo symbolizes. I can’t even articulate the process, but that is what I was thinking when I developed the idea for it.
It drives me crazy that I don’t have the words for that shift. Not the external trappings I just listed off – but the inner changes that snowballed myself into something completely different. Externally, people comment on how I have seemingly done a one-eighty from my lesbian-birk-wearin-andro-butch days. I don’t feel like it was a spin, I don’t feel like that’s accurate at all.
If anything, I feel more solid. More grounded. I have no idea where I am going in my life and I don’t have the words for how this all happened, but I feel at peace with myself.
I feel like whatever happened, whatever changes that have gone on in my habits, I have remained true to myself. And I know who I am. I like who I am.

I don’t need words for that.

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