So the 102 degrees on Saturday kicked my feet out from under me.  Ordinarily, as I drink a gallon of water a day, heat doesn’t really get to me like this.  I was only outside for maybe an hour total and spent the rest of the day being sick, dizzy and really disoriented.

However, I suspect that going off my thyroid medication has something to do with my apparent inability to regulate my own body temperature. Crap.

Sunday I got up feeling a little better and was moving around early enough to water the plants on the porch and set up my stuff to get to writing – just in time for a massive thunderstorm to open up the sky and pour. I’d woken up thinking, “God, what I wouldn’t give for rain today.” After the sluggish nausea fest from the day before.

As soon as the thunder and lightning started, I could smell the dirt outside and I opened all the doors and windows and sat down to work. 24 pages later I’d hit the 62 page mark and officially passed the halfway point. In fact, I’m closer to the two-thirds and think I can have it done by Sunday for a reading.

Jordan came over with some sorbet and we watched an episode of Supernatural and talked for awhile.  I was exhausted and smiling because a really good writing session can feel like such a great release, a high if you will! Lightning and rain and Voila!

Focus.

All in all -  a productive weekend!

After a week of dresses I have this observation. Dressing like a girl made me late for work almost every morning. I enjoyed the feeling of getting gussied up and doing my makeup and all, but I was also hyper aware of things like having the back of my dress tucked into my panties, and an unsuspecting gust of wind revealing the flow

All in all it was an interesting experiment. Mostly I got comments from my female co-workers, but there were a couple from men. I was talking to one of them about this observation – earlier this winter I wore a short skirt and high stilettos in a weird need to feel sexy.

The interesting thing was, I got three comments from older male co-workers about my legs. This is why I don’t like to dress up. 

I didn’t get comments from them about my ability to do my job, or how well I work with the students who are for lack of a better word, geeks.  The three guys who never talk to me suddenly had something to say about how long my legs look in stiletto’s, how short my skirt seemed, or whether I’m a runner with those legs. In short, the only commentary I got from the guys, were things that were solely based on my physical appearance, and inadvertently made me feel like a t-bone steak walking in front of a hungry dog.

I hadn’t put much thought into that day but it bothered me enough that I went home and changed before going out to play pool later. Why did it bother me?

It bothered me for the same reason I struggle with being able to accept the grown woman’s body that I have.  I feel like I am not free to just be. Trapped by the masculine concept of being “visually stimulating” which makes me want to be invisible. The ass-backward thing is that simultaneously I also want to attract the right mate, and because I am attracted to men and I know they are “visually stimulated” I also have the desire to let go of my protective invisible form (chubbiness) and step into the body I know I can have, the body that makes me feel strong and healthy.

I have almost reached a point wherein I am beginning to feel like I cannot accept my true physicality until I have a surrogate shield. A magic feather, if you will. God I hate to admit this, I truly hate it – but I almost feel like I can’t have the body I want until I have a boyfriend so I don’t feel exposed to the expectations of other male individuals.

This thinking in and of itself, is what makes me angry. Not angry – FUROIUS! Why can’t I grab on to that confident Devil-may-care attitude and run with it.

Ultimately, as I wore dresses all week and had conversations with people I discovered that a high percentage of my confidence when I have the physical trappings of being a woman are mostly bluff.  But when I’m in jeans and a t-shirt, the same exact conversations are not bluff, they are confident and meaningful and I don’t feel vulnerable – I feel like a sheep hiding in wolf’s clothing and hanging out with other wolves. In plain sight but invisible as just one of the guys is the safest place to be. 

However, I will continue to wear dresses more, and do my hair and makeup more often.

Because, if I can get to be a good enough bluffer on the flips side, maybe – just maybe I won’t get called on it.