A New Day

It’s the day Betty and I have been waiting for: the first day that isn’t 2007, at long last. We’re hoping 2008 will be a little kinder, maybe a little more amenable, which looks a little ironic from where I’m standing: amidst all the bags I have packed for Wisconsin. I am looking forward to teaching, to meeting various professors and students and even MHB readers, but there is also a part of me that doesn’t want to travel at all anymore; I just want a job, teaching most likely, somewhere I could live, and live with Betty, and have a home big enough for three cats and way too many books. As a result of the commute to North Andover this past fall, this trip to Wisconsin seems like the final test of my resources, or rather, if I ever had any slight bit of agoraphobia after 9/11, this trip is my proof that it’s all gone.

So, off we go. Tomorrow, Betty and I drive to Wisconsin, and we’re planning on arriving on Friday. If we can post from the road we will, but we might not be able to. Or we might not want to. Who knows? In either case, I’m on my way, and so is the new year.

Clothes

I realized the other day that the reason it drives me crazy to have clothes of various sizes around – because of weight gain/loss – is because it’s new to me. Throughout my 20s I was around the same size – or rather, I didn’t change sizes, but always had some clothes that were tighter or looser, depending on the cut of the clothes or how much I was working out, but everything fit. That’s another way of saying, I suppose, that my weight range was probably within 10 lbs., not 25 as it is now.

So for those of you who have dealt with this before – and I know some of you have dealt with it all your lives – what do you do? When you’re dealing with a variation of three goddamn sizes, 2/3 of the clothes you own don’t fit at any given time. Is this why women say ‘fuck it’ & just go with their largest size? Or does that lead to still larger sizes? Do you actually get rid of the smaller-sized clothes, knowing they’ll most likely be out of fashion by the time you lose the weight anyway? Please, folks, advice. I’m tired of digging through 800 articles of clothing to find the stuff that fits me right now.

& I know: the best answer would be to lose the weight. But having taken off & then put back on 25 lbs. last year, I’m not feeling horribly optimistic about the prospects just now and I still need to get dressed every day.

The Uses of ‘Pretty’ – Part II

A long time ago, I wrote a piece about “pretty” that eventually became a section of She’s Not the Man I Married that in turn, our resident board moderator Donna recently referred to when recounting a moment where she looked in the mirror and actually saw herself as pretty.

What made me think about it – and my reputation of being Helen “pretty is a mug’s game” Boyd – was seeing an episode of What Not To Wear which featured a nurse from Arizona who wore her scrubs and sweats everywhere & anywhere. They even had to do affirmations with her, like “I’m beautiful and I want to share my beauty with the world” which the woman couldn’t say without getting teared up. But by the end, she had transformed: it was obvious she felt not just pretty but confident.

& What I’ve been thinking about is that it’s a whole different thing to experience yourself as pretty – in a positive way – than to be told you’re pretty when that’s not wanted. The woman on the show was so obviously floored by actually feeling pretty that I was struck by what she was experiencing in feeling pretty, and so I was struck too by the times feeling pretty meant something good to me.

& It still can, of course.

Growing up as me meant when I was smoking a cigarette near the subway, five men would go by & say “you’re too pretty to smoke” or “you’re too pretty not to be smiling” or “you’re too pretty to have a mohawk.” etc. It was all kind of – the only word that comes to mind is <<interdit>> – about what I couldn’t & shouldn’t do because I was “pretty.”

Looks can become the only thing that women think is important and/or valuable about them, too, & even the pretty ones often discount so many other good things about themselves when they’re not feeling pretty enough. Not buying into pretty was a good way for me, at least, to break through a lot of the gendered boxes I might have been trapped in otherwise. When you feel like you’re not pretty enough to go outside without makeup, & men do every single day, there’s something wrong that needs to be – well, accounted for.

I don’t necessarily love the cattiness of shows like this, but I also know how it can feel to put on something & just feel good – even pretty! – when you’ve otherwise been feeling grungy / dumpy / inept. It’s another case where I think my experience being raised female might be quite different from the way a trans woman might relate to the same issue – that is, an acknowledgement of difference & not cause for hierarchy – because trans women grow up being told you can’t be pretty, you won’t be pretty, and you’re not allowed to be pretty, which is quite different indeed from being told you can be pretty but you can’t be anything else. But all of us, I think, in this lookist culture, have to step back from the shitty feelings of self-doubt – and even the euphoric feelings pretty can bring – and pay attention to pretty being a lot more valuable when it’s something you feel, not something you are (or aren’t).

To Sleep, Perchance to Sleep Some More

So this break it’s like I finally stopped doing stuff long enough for my body to let me know I’m exhausted. I came home & slept & slept & slept. I woke up, worked for a client, slept. Did some bookkeeping for another client, & slept. For a while I thought I was depressed, but really I think I was just tired.

& It’s been great. But tomorrow I’m off to Andover again, & then I don’t really get to stop until I’m in Wisconsin (if then).

Gibson Girl

When I spoke at Columbia a while back, students were utterly convinced that we are making progress. They were specifically talking about gender issues and fashion, and I had to disagree with them, at least about clothes, since there were more ways to play with sartorial gender in the ’70s and especially the ’80s than there are now.

But it cracked me up to see William Gibson, of all people, talking about exactly how much progress we haven’t made:

In the past ten years, we’ve seen incredible advances in nanotechnology and synthetic biology. Does any of it amaze you?

My assumption has always been that at some point we would lock on to a literally exponential increase in human knowledge. That was my best guess, somewhere back in the Seventies. There hasn’t been anything that made me sit back and say, “Golly, I would never have imagined that.” The aspects of recent history that have caused me to do that have been, in every case, manifestations of retrograde human stupidity.

How do you mean?

It’s been an extraordinarily painful decade or so. I just never in my wildest dreams could have imagined that it could get as fucked up as this guy [George Bush]. It still amazes me how dumb so much of our species can manage to be. But that’s kind of like being amazed at life.

There you have it, folks: manifestations of retrograde human stupidity, indeed.

Thanks

To all of you who read me regularly, & all of you who participate/subscribe to the boards, or buy my books, or recommend them: thank you. It’s been a much longer, more chaotic year than I ever expected – it’s become the book tour that won’t end, which is, ultimately, a good thing – and it’s meant a lot for me to hear from so many of you who send me PMs or emails or who comment here.

Ha, it’s nice to know that when my head finally explodes someone will be there to see it.

(That’s going on the idea that my head hasn’t already exploded, & we’ve all failed to notice.)

I had someone write to me recently who hoped I would one day get all the awards & accolades that I deserve, and I’m sure I didn’t get into this for either. But knowing that sometimes something I’ve written has made someone feel a little less crazy, or less ashamed, or less shitty – that’s totally worth it. (Though I will take her wish that I one day score the kind of advances a writer can live on while writing, of course.)

Passing (as a Student)

I don’t know what it is about me, but the ladies in the cafeteria & some students (who aren’t in my class) as well as some administrators, seem to think I’m one of the students. It doesn’t matter how I’m dressed, though today, on a non-teaching day, being in jeans & hoodie probably doesn’t help. But even in a suit jacket, I’m still assumed to be a student. (Must be my acne.) There aren’t any grad students around, either.

Still, I’m wondering if I just don’t radiate professor. Probably I don’t, and I don’t think I will when I’m 80 years old, either.

I suppose the anarchy ring doesn’t help, nor do the new piercings, nor does the fact that the campus, in general, is pretty mainstream: sadly, no blue-haired kids, no goths that I’ve seen. A lot of athletes, though; I get the feeling a lot of people here have never met a NYC hipster before.

Fear of Flying

Okay, so those of you who know me know I hate flying, & haven’t flown in a couple of years. Interestingly, perhaps, the last time I flew was also to Denver Airport, for Betty’s family reunion, which was maybe summer 2005 (since the incident is in She’s Not the Man I Married, so I knew it was before I wrote the book in the first half of 2006).

& Really, I did incredibly well considering. I took some new anti-anxiety drugs my doctor prescribed, & they helped a ton; I nearly almost enjoyed the trip out there.

BUT, on the way back, there was a thunderstorm between us & Laguardia. & Getting through it wasn’t the bad part; the bad part is that they needed more time between landings when it’s raining so hard.

Do we had to go into a holding pattern above the airport, flew in circles, through turbulence, for an hour, pitching & tossing & UGH.

I vomited & vomited & vomited. & Sweated. & Shook.

I can’t even think about how it would have been without the anti-anxiety meds.

But otherwise it was a lovely trip, and we met some really great people, all of which I’ll blog about in the upcoming days: I have the lovely luxury of being home five full days before we leave for Fantasia Fair early Thursday morning.

October

How the hell did it get to be October already? Is this year speeding by for everyone else, or am I just way too busy?