One of those lesbians
I’m becoming a different kind of lesbian and a different kind of femme, and it has all been surprising.
I quit shaving my legs about 2 months ago.
I’m becoming the type of lesbian who gets excited about canning and pickling.
I’m that girl who gets excited about baby making, and sewing cloth diapers and pureeing my own baby food.
I’ve been thinking a lot about capitalism, and its role in my life.
I want to know more about where my clothes and food come from.
I’m feeling less and less concerned about grad school and more and more concerned about becoming a responsible human being who tries do to with less.
My cravings for a more open and poly-leaning relationship are waning dramatically because the One I’ve got keeps on seeming more and more like the One I want. Other People ™ are too hard to manage.
What I’m craving now… there is a long list of things… nature walks, community meals, cooperative parenting, knitting groups, quilting circles, vegetable and fruit gardens and cotton summer dresses…
To think I haven’t worn a high-heeled shoe in months, and only recently purchased clothes at a retail store for the first time in almost a year! My sewing and knitting repertoire keeps growing, and so does my skill at home cooked meals. I know how to make pie crust from scratch!
Life is so different for me lately. Am I still femme if I don’t shave my legs? I think so. Do I still count as lovely, sexy, beautiful? Yeah, I think so. But all these words mean such drastic different things from when I was first beginning to belong to this bright glimmering butch-femme community. It would seem that I’m in the process of refining and redefining my femmeininity all over again. How does it happen that way? Just when we decide that we’ve figured ourselves out, something throws a wrench into the gears. I’m taking apart the cogs and unscrewing the wheels, trying to decide what to change when I put it back together next…
Anyone interested in a holiday card, some of my Grandma’s cookies/recipes, or just a little surprise treat of my choosing, feel free to write to me with your mailing address. If you’re feeling vulnerable, but would still like to remember the art of hand-writing letters, I’ll give you my address first.
I love you all so dearly…