Lions, and Tigers, and sturdy shoes
For the past year or so, a creeping feeling of masculinity has wafted around me. I’m tall and I cut my hair short and I wear sturdy shoes. (Oh my!) I’ve always thought my face looks kind of boyish. And I’m around all these short, petite, skirt wearing woman. I feel the same way I’ve heard uncomfortable men describe themselves; as oafish and tongue tied in comparison. On the other hand, I feel strong. They are little and I am big, so, naturally, I feel protective.
The feeling of masculinity even made me wonder if I might be bi-sexual. I’ve scanned my memory and my emotions for sexual feelings towards women. (There was that one dream.) After such a scan, I have to admit that I am safely on the side of heterosexuality. I only want to have sex with men, and that’s the definition, right?
The only cure for feeling masculine? Being around men; strong men, with muscles. What a relief! I feel little again. I notice how curvy I am. My voice gets higher. I feel comfortable in my own skin. My face feels sweet and angelic, not masculine. Isn’t it strange? My embodied definition of feminine must be: “smaller” which I can only be in comparison. What a lame definition of feminine. I wish our culture didn’t put that kind of lameness on women. I wish I hadn’t absorbed it.
[...] teetering scale is probably why the size and gender of the people I’m around can tip it one way or the other. This is lame. I need, to totally mix my metaphors, to re-set my feminine set point so that it [...]