Friday, August 16, 2013

To Lovers, Past and Future

(from 2013) I cried a few nights ago because I was missing that sense of being Special to someone. Then I got upset at myself for thinking those thoughts, for even coveting such a feeling. What kind of insecure fool was I? Why should I wait to be Special to someone in order to feel loved?, I wondered.

There is the dreamer, a romantic inside who does yearn for a tender place to lay my heart upon, and a kind fellow to reciprocate in kind. That has never left me, and will stay with me yet. There is nothing wrong with wanting to find a romantic love. In fact, when I was fortunate enough to find it with two men, I learned that I could be very happy being in love and part of a couple. That kind of soft place in one's heart is hard to replicate.

So I cried into a pillow as I realized the fellow I had been seeing did not provoke me to feel like I was the apple of his eye, that he never gazed at me adoringly. In fact, when I studied it, hardly seem to gaze at me at all. There was a lack of enthusiasm for me and I took it personally. Then I started to reason, 'Just because he does not feel I am Special (to him) , that does not mean that I am not.' Some wiser part of me gently called, "Remember who you are...".

So I remembered.

With that quickly came the realization that I needed to start with the intrinsic belief that I, all unencumbered and on my own, and naked and flawed, and hopeful and loving, and insecure, and grand, and powerful, and shy and bold and funny...that in all my glory, I am Special to begin with. Better is the notion that anyone who does not support this view, in either feeling or manner, must move along.


"Future Lover, whoever you may be, my one condition is this: if you do not join me in the reverie of celebrating my being a special person, or erode any trace of shine off of me, so that I may forget it for one moment...then we do not see eye to eye on this most critical matter. This lack of this recognition must signal to me that I must let you go too.

We are all learning lessons, including me. I acknowledge that some sting is the price of a risk taken. As we part, I will wish you well in sincerity. I hope that you find what you need to. I hope too that along your journey, you will come to see your own light shining. Perhaps then, will you recognize a shiny likeness and learn to 'see' someone like me."

Thursday, May 09, 2013

You're not supposed to LIKE it!

I have my reasons for loving my "Marilyns" - my special-occasion, smoky pink, subtly-curved heel evocative-of-a-Monroesque-era glamour girl shoes. le sigh. They make me walk a bit wobbly, 'tis true, but I am more aware of my bum - of even having a bum to sway. There is that.

BUT...there are moments, where I am of two minds. Of two left feet, of two minds.

There is the issue of being desirous of something pretty (ie. shoes with instantaneous sexiness built in - the SEX-ON-A-STICK shoes), but there is also the bunion-ing resentment which builds one blistery step at a time. It arrives when your mind switches from feeling like a goddess to gauging how much farther you need to walk until you reach your destination and can remove the demon shoes! (Oh, sweet freedom!) When mind, feet and spirit cry out: WHYYYYYY?! Why to pain us sexy shoe coveters?? To what purpose? To what end? Why must one suffer for a supposed 'beauty'? Why have I taken this idea as acceptable?

[Disclaimer: there is a rather lengthy and involved discourse to be explored regarding gender and expectations, socialization, culture, power dynamics, submissiveness vs. possession, objectification, control and powers of industry, capitalist gain, etc....which I will not be cracking open here, for that is not the feel of this tiny rant.] :)

My mini rant is more about an observation that pains me (south of the ankle, to be specific) that not ONE of 'cute' shoes I have, can be worn comfortably longer than two long blocks. or ten minutes. not. one. pair. ouch to that. 

As much as I have toyed with the idea of boycotting millionaire shoe companies or writing letters of frustration to mysoginisticly-bent footwear designers, I grow weary from the day's demands to pick too many a battle. The night is almost over and my shoes are nevertheless bringing me home, in one sexy, bum-wiggly piece. As much as these blistery thoughts pop up (like bubbles of misfortune from the ill-fitting foot housing), I have to reason on the concrete truth that is not so pretty: OF COURSE SEXY SHOES ARE NOT GOING TO COMFORTABLE! Of course, they are not going to be made with a cushy platform, or made bunion-producing FREE! Of COURSE NOT, you nincompoop!

If indeed there WERE comfortable cushioning in drop-dead-sexy foot housing, where would the insole producing industry be? Hello?
Where would our consumer-driven society be?
Where would foot powder industry?
Where would the cute-shoe accutrements industry be? (and, panty hoes wouldn't run with shoes that did not tug on the fabric, thereby: where would the panty hose producing industry be?)

Why, NOWHERE of course! (Don't you love rhetorical questions?)

You are not supposed to LIKE beauty products; you just have to NEED them!

Think about a Sunday morning: where would the foot cream, bunion-filing, foot soaking, aspirin eating, red wine swigging, hangover-cure drinking, contraception, Day-After pill popping, ok-you-got-a-little-carried-away wearing that bunion-it's-a-pleasure-and-pain-thing and now are slightly distressed-inquiring-at-clinics-and-labs-about-a-certain-Plan-that-comes-after-A...seriously-what-the hell-happened-it's-Sunday-morning-and-I'm-feeling-shite type realizations be?

Where ever would the feel-better-let-me-take-the-pain-away-with-OUR-STUFF-industries be?!

Why, they would cease to EXIST! And all because I selfishly wanted to walk good and speak gooder and feel pretty, and find my bum and trod with attractive footwear that does not kill me.

Selfish me!

These industries found their niche/s, and my nickel, alright. I'll give them that. I saw the gerbil wheel, and jumped into it with both blistered feet. But I don't love spending $12 on insoles for kind of expensive shoes just to be able to walk with them. (What?)

I'm not bitter. This is the society I live it, and these are the choices I  have made from within it. I love beautiful things, looking at them, fantasizing through them. It's just that I would prefer to wear such lovelies, luxury items like ill-fitting but attractive lady shoes, without having to break them in by breaking my own feet.

It's just that I want it all.

In a fair world, we would not have to compromise, and I could walk footloose and fancy-free, even in clickety-clicks! That is a picture I want to entertain. Hold it...still entertaining it.... OK, done.

As I was saying, I want what I conceive of as beautiful to be ensconced in what is right. My tootsie toes are but a minutia of a greater picture. Two insignificant points from which to see greater trajectories pointing to other societal ills, other pains, other constrictions ill-fitted to the individual. Which lies are we willing to accept and why? Word has it, there are many. Like, MANY, many.

But before you curse me out for resorting to 'lady shoes' in spite of knowing their consequences, and their associated discomfort (hey, it's not like I wear them OFTEN!), for liking pretty things that don't make sense, for chasing this mythical unicorn and dreaming of comfort, quality and fairness coming to fruition in my lifetime...please do not judge me too harshly until you've walked...well, you know.

Merry Christmas. Opt for a rubber soled, low heel. ;)

Tuesday, January 08, 2013

Water, water everywhere...but I aint thirsty.

Fishing, Shopppin' Around and other useless analogies for the dating pool:

Fishing around on Plenty of Fish feels like going to the supermarket and looking for your favourite brand- and seeing they no longer have it- and not realizing there are other, newer brands out there that, given the chance might actually become your New favourite brand. Yet still looking on the shelves, hoping they have misplaced one, one left over of your favourite brand- still pining. Having that picture in your mind's eye and no stock on the shelves to match it. Ever.

:P

And...well, I am loathe to shop. But until I get on my boots and pull up my bootstraps and decide to go shop in a completely different store, not knowing what the hell I really want, I will wait and look at brand names of products I have never thought about nor used and which may even repel me, and ponder if...maybe I should be a better shopper.