It pains me to admit that at nearly 40 I still want to be daddy's little girl. I want my father to look at me with that "apple of my eye" look. I want him to come over and unstick that window that just won't open. To help me get a Christmas tree. I want him to tell me he's proud of me when I get a promotion at work. And to help me manage my finances. And when I get dumped, I want him to tell me that no matter what I'll always be his little girl.
Now let me shock you by a factor of about 10 when I tell you that having never known my father, I am willing to accept one night stand understudies to fulfill this desire. My MO is to get very drunk at a bar and then to start auditioning men for the part. Actually it doesn't take much to get the part - he just doesn't have to walk away. And bingo, for a couple of hours, I am the most important thing in that guy's life. The drama ends when we go back to my place so I can be the only thing he can thinks about about for a couple minutes.
I like to call myself a love-child. My 16 year mother and 17 year old father met over the summer, away from home, and just as the summer was ending decided to have sex. Unfortunately, my mother didn't even know how to get pregnant. After she told him, my father made my mother get a paternity test which showed with 99% certainity I was his daughter. I think I met him once when I was a toddler but otherwise he has been absent.
And yes, I am a text bookcase of the girl who grows up fatherless. I take medication for depression and have attempted suicide a number of times. And so many one night stands. I have low self-esteem especially around men. I gave up a daughter for adoption when I was 19. I drink too much. Friends have given up on me for hopeless. I fall in love too easy, too early, and always with the most unavailable guy possible. And I'm divorced. But what the book doesn't tell you about me is that have a good job. I water my plants regularly. I take vacations. I make a mean triple layer coconut cake. I host brunches. I can make a gingerbread house with a Christmas tree in the bay windows.
Something happened to me recently though. I told my therapist that I wanted to stop sleeping with men on the first date. That maybe instead of sleeping with the guy, I could go have a piece of warm chocolate lava cake. It's like sex when I eat it, I said. He looked me and before he could get the words out of his mouth, I knew what he was going to say. Stop drinking. I couldn't. And as I started to tell him why I needed to keep drinking on dates, I think I had my first light bulb moment. I heard how lame it sounded when I said that I didn't think I could face a guy sober on a date, too much anxiety.
Wow. So I've decided to stop drinking for awhile and to close down one night stand productions. I guess it's time to grow up, to stop wishing I was daddy's little girl.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Welcome to Red Nation
I've applied for citizenship to the nation of Red; I am a visual refugee. From the shackles of grey, black and brown to the freedom of red. God almighty, I am free at last. For much of my life I've been quite disdainful and suspicious of the people of Red. But now I am asking for asylum.
In my youth, I did wear red lipstick but mostly I have shied away from the color red. On New Year's Eve, I do allow myself the decadence of red fingernail polish. But except for a lonely pair of red underwear, I can safely say for as long as I can remember, I have not owned a single article of red clothing. Red was too vocal for me and carried much too much drama. Take Wikipedia which says that "red is frequently used as a symbol of guilt, sin and anger, often as connected with blood or sex." Exactly.
In my youth, I did wear red lipstick but mostly I have shied away from the color red. On New Year's Eve, I do allow myself the decadence of red fingernail polish. But except for a lonely pair of red underwear, I can safely say for as long as I can remember, I have not owned a single article of red clothing. Red was too vocal for me and carried much too much drama. Take Wikipedia which says that "red is frequently used as a symbol of guilt, sin and anger, often as connected with blood or sex." Exactly.
And as I travel through Red, I do worry that I do not have the personality to carry off a color that people either hate or love, a color that makes your heart beat faster. I think, can I really wear red lipstick and not look like a clown? (GirlyNation.com has a wonderful guide on which shade of red lipstick works for which skin tone.) Am I being too bold, too sexual, which will scare off men? I do smile at that one.
The Chinese equate red with happiness and good luck. To them, it symbolizes dignity and mystery. To me, red is about arriving. Maybe a little anger. But mostly saying its okay to be in the room and it's okay to be noticed. As I acquaint myself with the customs of my adopted country, and learn the language, I'm certain I'll make a few missteps along the way. But that's okay because I know I am finally home.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Bitch Neo-Flapper
I am not only a neo-flapper but I am also a Bitch-in-training. My ultimate dream is to become a Bitch Neo-Flapper.
Every Tuesday in Grand Central Station, on my way to therapy, I either buy a peanut butter cookie from Zaros or I buy a book from Posmanbooks. Okay, sometimes, I even do both. For me, spending money is better than chocolate and almost as good as sex. That's a discussion I'll save for a future post. On one particular Tuesday, browsing through the bookstore, wondering which of the little puppies would be coming home with me, a cute rambunctious book caught my eye - Why Men Love Bitches by Sherry Argov. The word bitches is written in bright red lipstick.
I recommend this book to all my sisters who are Nice Girls. The subtitle is From Doormat to Dreamgirl - A Woman's Guide to Holding Her Own in a Relationship. On page 2, Sherry describes my former Nice Girl self perfectly - the girl who on the third date would make a four course meal including a homemade dessert, who after doing the dishes, would feed the guy organic strawberries in a lace nightie. For all you Bitches rolling your eyes right now, I am amending my evil ways - next time I cook for a man it will be popcorn, hot dogs, and Twinkies. Thanks for the recipe Sherry.
As a Bitch-in-training, I have a long way to go before I can call myself a full-fledged Bitch. Sherry lists 100 attraction principles; I'm on #12 - A man knows which woman will give in to last-minute requests. Right now I am learning the difference between the Spontaneous Guy Who Is Treating You Like A Backup vs. The Spontaneous Guy Who Adores You.
Attraction Principle #100 - The most attractive quality of all is dignity. Ah yes, the day I can call myself a Bitch Neo-Flapper.
Every Tuesday in Grand Central Station, on my way to therapy, I either buy a peanut butter cookie from Zaros or I buy a book from Posmanbooks. Okay, sometimes, I even do both. For me, spending money is better than chocolate and almost as good as sex. That's a discussion I'll save for a future post. On one particular Tuesday, browsing through the bookstore, wondering which of the little puppies would be coming home with me, a cute rambunctious book caught my eye - Why Men Love Bitches by Sherry Argov. The word bitches is written in bright red lipstick.
I recommend this book to all my sisters who are Nice Girls. The subtitle is From Doormat to Dreamgirl - A Woman's Guide to Holding Her Own in a Relationship. On page 2, Sherry describes my former Nice Girl self perfectly - the girl who on the third date would make a four course meal including a homemade dessert, who after doing the dishes, would feed the guy organic strawberries in a lace nightie. For all you Bitches rolling your eyes right now, I am amending my evil ways - next time I cook for a man it will be popcorn, hot dogs, and Twinkies. Thanks for the recipe Sherry.
As a Bitch-in-training, I have a long way to go before I can call myself a full-fledged Bitch. Sherry lists 100 attraction principles; I'm on #12 - A man knows which woman will give in to last-minute requests. Right now I am learning the difference between the Spontaneous Guy Who Is Treating You Like A Backup vs. The Spontaneous Guy Who Adores You.
Attraction Principle #100 - The most attractive quality of all is dignity. Ah yes, the day I can call myself a Bitch Neo-Flapper.
Monday, November 3, 2008
My Journey into Neo-Flapperism
While searching for an even more glamorous dress to wear with my Glamorous Kitty costume this Halloween, I came across a skimpy, beaded flapper costume. Instantly I thought of Flapper Kitty. But the cat ears with the dress was overkill even for me so I decided to just be a flapper. This was the beginning of my ascent into neo-flapperism.
First I thought, how appropriate. As a 1920's flapper, I'll be commemorating the excesses of my generation and the end of "the party". Flappers were about nonstop party, weren't they? They ran around in short dresses and short hair, drank and smoked, and lots of dancing. And yes, casual sex. Perfect! But something happened as I did research for my costume.
I realized that flappers were actually ubber feminists of their day not sex-crazy party girls. Everything on their terms. Everything. They went against the social grain with no apologies. Applying lipstick in public or showing a little skin at the beach is perhaps not as lofty as fighting for equal for equal work. Feminsim has gone through a few Waves. I am thankful the waves have pulled me along but I have never felt like there was a spot for me at the table. That's why I am embracing neo-flapperism. I see neo-flapperism as an outlet for my own un-conventional nature. Call it the Fouth Wave of Feminism or an just an eccentric strain, it is how I wish to define my womanhood.
Neo-flapperism is not about drinking or smoking, it is about inhaling the beauty of women, their illogicality and emotion, and the softness of their voices. It maintains that woman and men are different and therefore respond to situations differently. It tries to have a sense of humor. It acknowledges that women and men have sexual desire. It questions abortion - not when life begins, that's personal opinion, but whether we should be able to call the terminated fetus a potential life and be able to take our potential life home with us to bury. It asks why a woman can't look like a woman, talk like a woman, and act like a woman in the workplace and still be regarded as CEO material. It allows men to be men in the home; however, just as women take their responsibilities outside of the home seriously, it demands that men take their responsibilites inside the home just as seriously.
It's not about having it all. No, I do not want it all. It's about having what I want on my terms with no apologies.
First I thought, how appropriate. As a 1920's flapper, I'll be commemorating the excesses of my generation and the end of "the party". Flappers were about nonstop party, weren't they? They ran around in short dresses and short hair, drank and smoked, and lots of dancing. And yes, casual sex. Perfect! But something happened as I did research for my costume.
I realized that flappers were actually ubber feminists of their day not sex-crazy party girls. Everything on their terms. Everything. They went against the social grain with no apologies. Applying lipstick in public or showing a little skin at the beach is perhaps not as lofty as fighting for equal for equal work. Feminsim has gone through a few Waves. I am thankful the waves have pulled me along but I have never felt like there was a spot for me at the table. That's why I am embracing neo-flapperism. I see neo-flapperism as an outlet for my own un-conventional nature. Call it the Fouth Wave of Feminism or an just an eccentric strain, it is how I wish to define my womanhood.
Neo-flapperism is not about drinking or smoking, it is about inhaling the beauty of women, their illogicality and emotion, and the softness of their voices. It maintains that woman and men are different and therefore respond to situations differently. It tries to have a sense of humor. It acknowledges that women and men have sexual desire. It questions abortion - not when life begins, that's personal opinion, but whether we should be able to call the terminated fetus a potential life and be able to take our potential life home with us to bury. It asks why a woman can't look like a woman, talk like a woman, and act like a woman in the workplace and still be regarded as CEO material. It allows men to be men in the home; however, just as women take their responsibilities outside of the home seriously, it demands that men take their responsibilites inside the home just as seriously.
It's not about having it all. No, I do not want it all. It's about having what I want on my terms with no apologies.
The Beginning
20s and Flapper Dress http://tribute2couture.livejournal.com/
"The costume history image in our minds of a woman of the 'Roaring Twenties' is actually likely to be the image of a flapper. Flappers did not truly emerge until 1926. Flapper fashion embraced all things and styles modern. A fashionable flapper had short sleek hair, a shorter than average shapeless shift dress, a chest as flat as a board, wore make up and applied it in public, smoked with a long cigarette holder, exposed her limbs and epitomised the spirit of a reckless rebel who danced the nights away in the Jazz Age.
The French called the flapper fashion style the 'garconne'. High fashion until the twenties had been for the richer women of society. But because construction of the flapper's dress was less complicated than earlier fashions, women were much more successful at home dressmaking a flapper dress which was a straight shift. The really rich still continued to wear beautifully embellished silk garments for evening, but the masses revelled in their new found sophistication of very fashionable flapper clothes. Skirts only revealed the knee briefly between 1926 and 1928, and this was the only period when evening dresses were short in line with day dress lengths. This was the flapper period."
"The costume history image in our minds of a woman of the 'Roaring Twenties' is actually likely to be the image of a flapper. Flappers did not truly emerge until 1926. Flapper fashion embraced all things and styles modern. A fashionable flapper had short sleek hair, a shorter than average shapeless shift dress, a chest as flat as a board, wore make up and applied it in public, smoked with a long cigarette holder, exposed her limbs and epitomised the spirit of a reckless rebel who danced the nights away in the Jazz Age.
The French called the flapper fashion style the 'garconne'. High fashion until the twenties had been for the richer women of society. But because construction of the flapper's dress was less complicated than earlier fashions, women were much more successful at home dressmaking a flapper dress which was a straight shift. The really rich still continued to wear beautifully embellished silk garments for evening, but the masses revelled in their new found sophistication of very fashionable flapper clothes. Skirts only revealed the knee briefly between 1926 and 1928, and this was the only period when evening dresses were short in line with day dress lengths. This was the flapper period."
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