It’s been roughly 9 months since I began documenting this journey. Nearly as long as the gestational period of a human infant. Like some parents, I have rolled around in the mystery of it all, sat awe inspired and wide-eyed at the confusion and the complexity of human emotion and attraction, and revelled in MOST moments of the process. Also, like some parents, I have cursed the swollen ankles and figurative indigestion caused by the bloated impregnation of my changing life and, at times, cried over the process of peeling away the onion skin layers of my identity.
Wow, this post is starting heavy. Let’s take a quick sideline and say this. The two things I know, 9 months into this adventure, are this:
- Men are emotionally stunted and don’t know how to communicate. Granted, what they have to communicate is usually pretty straight forward and drama free…so, please, lay it out there guys.
- Women are bat-shit crazy. All of us. We may not seem it, but, at some point the change will happen and we will over-communicate the most complex range of emotions over something quite simple and drama free. Even the most chill, zen, mellow of us are prone to the whims of hormonal bat-shit craziness. I have said it before and here it is again…any creature that bleeds for 7 days straight, without dying, is NOT to be trusted, cause we must have some voodoo Santeria demon shit going on. Like Serpent and the Rainbow… dead, but alive, but fucking bat-shit.
Those are the two things I am sure of. That is it. The rest I find myself scratching my head over or doing tilted dog ears as I beat myself against the proverbial wall. In the end, I am not sure that I will have any great insights, not for you, the readers, and definitely not for myself. I may walk away with a new term; queer, not lesbian. I may walk away with a new wardrobe, as shopping has been an extension of this journey, expressing myself in new ways through fashion and embracing a more “straight” aesthetic that I hadn’t in my life as a lesbian. I was always femme, but I was a femme lesbian who occasionally wore lipstick and occasionally wore dresses and heels. Now, I am a stocking and garter wearing vixen with red stained lips and 4 inch heels at my disposal. I am kitty, here me roar. Fucking ROAR.
I would love to hear about your own journeys of self discovery. Chime in and share some.
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