Pretty Girls Make Messes
They say gender is performance… but if it’s such a performance, why is it so hard for me to be anything other than what I am? Femme means being who I am. Femme means loving whoever I want to love and not being ashamed of it. Femme encompasses the glamourous get-ups as well as the dirt under my fingernails. Someone once told me that the more feminine someone is, the messier they are… I don’t know if that holds true for everyone. It does for me… the more implements I utilize in my femmeinine lifestyle the harder it is to keep everything organized. So whenever I get a food on my clothes or accidentally knock over a drink or miss my mouth while eating (hah!) I just say “even pretty girls make messes” and carry on. Sometimes it’s just a fact, not a possibility, “pretty girls make messes” – never mind the “even.” Sometimes I’m not so pretty. I don’t smell pretty, look pretty, feel pretty, think pretty all the time. I try, but I fail. I can’t wear tampons. I have to wear shorts under my skirts to keep my thighs from chafing. I walk funny in heels. I have weak knees that are currently elevated to prevent further swelling. When it’s humid, warm or windy I get flyaways that look like a golden halo around my face. It rained today, I have one and only one three-inch long curl right out front, hanging down my forehead. I try to comb it in, it comes back out. Makeup application is hit or miss, I usually look like I have two shiners instead of alluring eyes. Despite all this, I am still confident in my femmeininity. I like myself just fine: dirt, pixie dust and all.