Before I head out for the weekend – I thought I’d post the Orlando Story.

Most of you already know it – oh, the shame. Anyway, some people have been asking about the few references I made so here it is. Sad, but true.

I’ll be leaving for Seattle to go camping with Jeffy and Mistress Sara for the holiday.  I don’t know if I’ll get to update again soon.

Something has been bothering me for awhile.  I talked to Erisian about it before the Meet-up because I think it concerns my ability to get to where I want to go.

Evidently, the way I see myself is not the way other people see me -especially at the first meeting.

A couple of weeks ago as I sat talking to Spitfire outside the café, one of the barista’s in his mid twenties, whom I’ve known and been on a semi-friendly basis for about 6 months came out to us and began to complain that there weren’t enough people to help set up their camp structure for Burningman. Spitfire was already signed on to the crew and he got all fidgety and angsty and said they needed more help – so I quickly volunteered.

“Oh, that’s okay.” he said.  “I don’t mean to be rude – but we sort of need manly men. You know, strong people.”

Now, if the kid wasn’t half my weight I would have kicked his ass right then and there. But knowing what we know about my skills and his scrawniness – it would have been a very unfair fight resulting in me having to use my one phone call to KFK for bail.

As it was, I said, “What do you mean? Strong people…I could break you in two you little punk.”

Clearly the wrong thing to say as he stormed off to pout somewhere and presumably make phone calls to round up help. Spitfire looked at me as I fumed over the insult – and it’s usually pretty tough to piss me off, so I was more than a little surprised.

“I think it’s your sandals,” she offered.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, they’re not athletic sandals – you know. Like the outdoorsy ones we all wear.  Yours are sort of… girly.”

I know Spitfire wasn’t in a great headspace that day so I let her have that one as a freeby.  Then as she picked up her bag and headed out toward the park where they were doing the setup she said, “At the very least you should come watch.  It’s really cool.”

She left and I thought about it.  Eventually, I did go to the park.  Eventually, there was a moment when another pair of hands became necessary and I jumped in to lift and pull and spot. Eventually, scrawny-putz did apologize for his comment.

But the damage was done. I suddenly worried that I was girly.

It’s not the first time, but it’s happened enough now that it seems like it’s actually interfering with my ability to be accepted in my own right.  Having Meme here was also a reminder that I’m different than I was growing up with her – I was a tomboy to the core, football, swimming, track and field, soccer, fencing and a myriad of other sports.  I guided sea kayak tours in Valdez, hiked, and bogged in the woods for years.  Snow machines, wheelers, rock climbing and outdoor winter survival treks in the bush in Alaska.  I did all this with bright red lipstick and manicured toenails.  The last thing I ever thought of myself as, was girly. I collected swords, knives and can load, aim and fire half a dozen types of firearms.  I’m good with a 30lb bow and most fishing equipment.  I have a tent, tarp and folding camping chairs in my car at all times so I can go off in search of adventure at the drop of a hat. Yes, I clean my own fish, change my own headlights and tires, and after all these years – still enjoy red lipstick.

But somehow, despite the confidence that I can tie a skiff knot or bungee off a 300 ft bridge – I come off as too feminine to be useful.  This isn’t just aggravating it’s dangerous.  Dangerous because people who would likely see me as helpless think I’m an easy target for mischief.  While that would be a ridiculous error in their judgment (and I have the crowbar to prove it)– it does tend to gum up my works and that is terribly inconvenient.

While the people who make such snap judgments are probably not the people I want in my sphere of influence anyway– it does also beg the question…

Am I not presenting myself with honesty enough that such errors can be avoided?

Am I fronting as something else and then feeling unrecognized as a strong and capable woman?

I do like girly things, shoes and bags and bright pink and red shades of just about everything.  I love cute dresses and sexy tops.  I adore getting my hair done.  Not much of one for fancy jewelry – I wear expensive bling about as often as I get my oil changed, which is to say once every three months or three thousand miles. So I’m not a diamond kind of girl.

I’m not sure where to begin to fix the problem.  I DO giggle… a lot! I laugh because I’m usually very happy.  I smile a lot because I’m in love with being alive.  I chat with people and I often squeal with delight over the sight of a puppy or a cute pair of shoes.

It simply can’t be helped.

I don’t know how to be anymore honest with the way I present myself.  I have adventures waiting to be had, places to explore and people to meet.  I don’t want to be walking into a these adventures either being grossly misjudged or blatantly dishonest about who I really am. I don’t want to miss out on the fun, the hard core or the big adventures just because someone thinks I can’t hack it. I can totally hack it!

I’m a Tomgirl.  I like knives, mud, X-box and Jeep Wranglers AND I like pretty dresses, a good Mascara, push up bra’s, trash romance novels, and I cry every freaking time I watch ‘Beaches’ AND I adore Quantum Physics, world travel, solitude, debates about the true String Theory, and a smooth peaty Scotch with my cigar.

I’m at a loss. I simply don’t know how to get people to take me seriously.  I don’t know what else I can do to represent myself better, and be received with more openness about my lack of a clear label. Then again, maybe I do have a label. Maybe I am just girly and my brain is refusing to accept it.

I’m stumped.