I'm another Natural Womanext_1252743June 11 2012, 06:35:47 UTC
Interesting how societal norms have clung to a past ideal of what a woman "should be." I always told my daughter, Riley, that the cool thing about being a girl is that you can wear jeans and shitkickers or doll up if you feel like it. I was a jazz singer, and my costume was also my shield. Even now, living a different life, I'm glad I am a woman... wearing ankle socks and sandals, tripping around Madison, WI in whatever the heck I feel like wearing! You may appreciate this post I did on Costumes, too. Peace, Amy http://sharplittlepencil.com/2012/06/11/ugly/
Re: I'm another Natural WomanroswellgrayJune 11 2012, 23:02:58 UTC
Yes. I have always found it really amusing that somehow, preferring jeans and t-shirts to dressing up seems to indicate that I don't like men. That's hardly the case. I like men very much. I also happen to think they usually get the best t-shirt designs.
Dressing up the way society expects me too has always been a struggle. Thankfully I have a husband who accepts me as I am but even he wouldn't mind what is considered a more feminine approach... I always feel like I'm falling short of that mark. - Cathy
Re: I hear youroswellgrayJune 11 2012, 22:57:57 UTC
What I have always found is that I look better and feel better about myself when I'm wearing what I like to wear. I've evolved my own style out of that and I feel better for it.
When I want to wear something a little bit dressier, I tend to go for brighter colors and shinier fabrics.
My mother was convinced that my daughter was going to end up gay because we didn't put her in dresses when she was a baby... we preferred onesies and sweat pants because they were PRACTICAL.
She *still* thinks my daughter "might be gay" because she hasn't introduced her boyfriend to her, so she thinks that she is hiding her lesbian lover.
I don't know what it is about gender roles that rubs me the wrong way, but it definitely makes me feel like a cat being petted tail-first.
Of course I do. Remember, I have a relative that is permanently disowned who still thoroughly believes that I am a lesbian, satan-worshipping, whore of babylon who will never amount to anything, ever, because I don't have a husband.
At this point, the sweetest revenge I think I could ever obtain would be to start dating some guy who's 6 ft 6 in tall, has hair down to his ass and a few visible tattoos and drives a motorcycle. Then, take him home for a visit with me, go to a store that I know some super judgemental and gossipy friends of hers own, and let him publicly stick his tongue down my throat so they see it, all while making absolutely sure they know who I am.
I would not have a thing to be embarrassed about. She, naturally, would be mortified-and couldn't do a damn thing about it.
Are you my wife costuming as a blogger?...I like your kind of person...open honest...what you see is what you get kind of person...to many people hide behind their own personal costumes...nice honest post.
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http://sharplittlepencil.com/2012/06/11/ugly/
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When I want to wear something a little bit dressier, I tend to go for brighter colors and shinier fabrics.
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(oh wait... obviously you do...)
My mother was convinced that my daughter was going to end up gay because we didn't put her in dresses when she was a baby... we preferred onesies and sweat pants because they were PRACTICAL.
She *still* thinks my daughter "might be gay" because she hasn't introduced her boyfriend to her, so she thinks that she is hiding her lesbian lover.
I don't know what it is about gender roles that rubs me the wrong way, but it definitely makes me feel like a cat being petted tail-first.
Reply
Remember, I have a relative that is permanently disowned who still thoroughly believes that I am a lesbian, satan-worshipping, whore of babylon who will never amount to anything, ever, because I don't have a husband.
At this point, the sweetest revenge I think I could ever obtain would be to start dating some guy who's 6 ft 6 in tall, has hair down to his ass and a few visible tattoos and drives a motorcycle. Then, take him home for a visit with me, go to a store that I know some super judgemental and gossipy friends of hers own, and let him publicly stick his tongue down my throat so they see it, all while making absolutely sure they know who I am.
I would not have a thing to be embarrassed about. She, naturally, would be mortified-and couldn't do a damn thing about it.
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