OK...

I have fallen away from being the girlie-girl I've been accused of being all my life.

I have been termed:

• 
  perfectionist
  prissy
  uptight
  ladylike
  high-maintenance
  etc etc etc



And I have lost some of my femininity. While I have my hair and nails done on a regular basis, I find my daily wardrobe for work consists of jeans, sneakers and some kind of school uniform top or random shirt.

At home, I wear pajama pants, or yoga pants, bare feet. On weekends, if alone and not going out, I rarely put on make up, or blow dry my hair. I sleep in a Chicago Cubs tank top.

Love me some scented lotion. Got plenty of that.

But I don't feel the zing of being a girl anymore.

So...I'm on a mission for the rest of the school year.

In addition to losing weight (started this morning by running), I'm going to re-discover being a feminine, girlie-girl. Not a bitch, not a hard-to-please femme, but a thoroughly female-esque woman.

I may wear a bow around my pony tail.

Any suggestions you want to add? :)

What is about men that just make you want to drop kick them?

Had dinner and long convo with old friend. She listened to me talk about Soccer Player, the positive and negative.

Her reaction: I wish I could trade brains with you.

She said before she met Husband, she settled for "so much" that she now looks back and thinks, "What the hell was I thinking? I should have liked myself more."

And I have a sneaky suspicion she't not far from wrong.

HSBF lives in my old neighborhood and we have gotten together a few times in the last few months.

She and I have forged a new friendship, and it's a good one.

She is married to a man I've known since kindergarten, and it's a GOOD marriage.

She is a mother, with a beautiful toddler.

We've had good times together, and I'm glad she's a part of my life.

On our last girls' night out, I was trying to describe a scenario of a mutual friend, and asked her to name her best friend.

She told me she had been told by someone she was a "serial best friender."

And when she thought over her life, of all the friends she's had, she realized that I'm her best friend. Because I'm smart, I've always been steady, and "you challenge me."

I'm not sure what challenges I gave her; I always felt like I was trying to keep up with her in middle and high school. She was always so beautiful and pretty and nice and perfect and everyone loved her; I was always the sidekick.

But when she said that, I teared up, and began weeping a little bit. It was an unexpected, lovely moment.

I'm beginning to worry about the external image people see of me.

Is it really me?

Or the conceived, public-safe me?

I was thinking of the objectification of women.

It's known, and can't be denied. Women are looked at, through, over, again and again. I see it at school. I'm not too modest to acknowledge that I'm above-average in looks. Some times, I'll even go so far to say "Damn, I'm hot." Men I work with, and fathers of my kids, glance 2, 3, and more times at me, as well as men from outside-work stuff.

This kind of behavior and attention has been rued against since I was a kid. I don't think feminism was the war cry when I was little, but I know women didn't happily accept that slap on the ass at the office. While stereotypes on TV giggled and shimmied and shrieked onscreen, and I laughed at them, I never accepted that as my kind, my fate as a woman.

I was thinking...does today's objectification stem from ancient veneration of women? Ancient religions revered women as givers of life, the connection to the divine. Matriarchal societies and religions predate some Y-dominated sects. Has the religistic version been perverted by the pop culture version? Did the advancement of Christianity cheapen the value of women in the world?

Maybe the bombardment of tits 'n' ass today convinces women they're nothing better than being a sperm-dump? A lot of young women are speedily convinced of the same.

I know a lot of men don't feel this way. I'm fortunate to be friends with a few of them. However, I know some of the other thinkers.

Today I went to a county-wide meeting for media specialists. At these meetings, we talk shop, trade ideas, talk about what books we're reading lately.

When asked what I was reading, I thought for a minute, and said, "Well, I have 20 different titles for my state reading committee. I'm reading the middle school Sunshine State books because I'm a county judge for Battle of the Books in April. Then I have 3 picture books, 3 Caldecott, and 4 chapter books I'm reading for my grad class. Papers are due next week."

One of them looked at me and asked, "Where do you find the time to do all this?"

And I thought about it.

I have no children. (Thank God for now.)
I have no husband.
I have no boyfriend.
I have a minimal social life outside of grad school or Junior League.
I work. I come home. I either read for a few hours, or I work on my papers. I do my lesson plans. I do my online homework. I fall asleep for an hour or so every afternoon. Get back up and get back to work. Shower and fall in to bed between 11 and 12. Get up around 5:30 and go back to work.

Humph.

I'm a bit depressed at this summation of my life's activities.

Maybe it's the dreaded V-Day that always shines a big blinding spotlight on everyone singleness making me examine the non-socialness of my life right now.

Not dating anyone. Kind of boring.

I hear Dr. Phil's voice in my head: "Put yawself in ah target-reech enn-vih-roh-meint."

Unfortunately, the library is not a "target rich environment." Neither is a Junior League meeting.

I was thinking of going to shoot pool this Saturday night, but then I remembered I'm being observed for my evaluation next Thursday, so I have to ready my bag of tricks so I impress my adminstrator and get a good rec.

Online matching sites have been a big disappointment in the past. I'm not going that route again.

/sigh/

I like the idea of doing confessions.

My current one:

I'm not shy about commenting in conversations. My comments fall into 2 venues: the comic relief or saying what people want to say, but lack the nerve to do it.

So far, it has paid off.

Borrowed from samuraigrrl

We all have things about our friends that make us slightly envious.

Not in a bad way, but in a 'Wow! I wish I had that person's boobs/eyes/money/relationship/nose hairs/whatever.'

So tell me what about me makes you envy me. . . then post this in your LJ and see what makes me envious of you.

Don't ask me to be in charge if you don't want things accomplished with speed, flair, and a fair amount of nervous knees knocking incessantly.

I am a doer. I need to be needed. If I can be of service to others, I will be at the beck and call, ready to do my thang. That kind of situation keeps me up at night, thinking continuously of what I need to do, need to accomplish.

I make lists. I make lists of lists to make. When I am trying to get things done, I have my Mission Face ^TM on, and that means, Get Out of My Way.

This also means my night sweats return, my nervous stomach, possible ulcers, and my inability to make a decision about my own things to do.

I'm a worrier.

I'm a planner.

I'm a detailer.

I'm a behind-the-scenes worker.

I'm a viciously silent leader.

I'm a Virgo.

I've noticed a dearth of deep, self-analyzing, introspective entries in my LJ.

And that can only mean one thing...

My life is pretty darn good these days.

Last year, rarely did a couple days go by when I didn't write a "why am I here?" entry, or else deeply dissecting my premise as a human being, and what choices I've made, and how all of it had contributed to my daily existence.

That meant my life at the time was awful.

I believe there will be a few introspecs in a couple days/weeks, but nothing earth-shattering. Just a myriad of musings and wonderingments.

I'm not that dissatisfied, and I'm liking it.