Decadence

I am so relaxed. Just delighted. Pampered.  I’ve just had my hair done at Chatterers and it’s so becoming. Sharon, the stylist is herself so beautiful and inspiring.  She even expressed joy with her final creation and the other stylists shared their appreciation.   I actually feel attractive. 

“You’re beautiful!”  The large and bold cursive writing is there on Chatter’s wall. Who am I to argue?

I am wearing a Papa’s dress I bought yesterday from the truly engaging Fijian shop owner. He clapped when I walked by there today after time in Chaterer’s. I’ ve a necklace from my Reitman’s another favourite shop. 

The mineral and jewelry lady who makes her own creations sold me a necklace and a bracelet which I’ll wear some day I suppose.  “These go well with your skin and eye colour”, she said, making a sale.  Who am I to argue with a creative beautiful young woman.  I’d bought amber stud jewelry there when she opened. “The amber is from Poland, “ she said. “It’s natural not factory made.”  I love Amber.

I do enjoy this self care and shopping day. After years of using weekends to cram in study halls or work late on call at hospitals and offices, it’s pleasant play.  Asked if I miss my sailboat this week. It’s up on land right now. I said, I don’t miss the constant grinding and painting every weekend, the diesel maintenance and myriad of other maintenance activities. I was forever doing repairs and improvements to radar, rigging, and Hamm radio.  At the time, I loved it.  Now I prefer my camper. The week of swimming each day, walking the dog, skooting about on the Vespa, reading in the lawn chair and barbecuing steaks was thoroughly fulfilling. Choosing a different bikini for morning swims was about  as challenging a decision I had to make each day.

I’ll be bow hunting next month. The following week I’ll likely introduce the new bird dog to his destiny. Grouse shooting and his job is to find the fallen birds. His predecessor actually retrieved them after watching the old guy struggling through the thick bush to get to him.  

There’s a repetitive ennui quality to my life that’d relieved by cross dressing.  I would hardly be moved to leave my home and couch au drab but if I dress up it’s suddenly an adventure. At my age I’m invisible regardless of gender.  My beautiful hair and French cut nails, so thoughtlyh selected jewelry and carefully applied make up are wasted on the men. “I’m happy to be a lesbian, “ I shared , “Women at least appreciate the effort.”  We celebrate the woman who donns leathers and rides a motorcycle. Now I do appreciate the rare woman who smiles with appreciation.  

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”  

I looked into a trip to Thailand for a partial sex change. I could have the much needed face lift and breast augmentation for the price of a new motorcycle all while being cared for in a luxury spa.  It really did appear tempting.  A new face and identity and new adventure. I keep hearing Donovan singing, “the doctor bit was so far out, looking through crystal spectacles I believe I had your fun.”  Epistle to dippy.  I suspect I’m weary. It’s a very goof thing I no longer drink and especially don’t smoke dope or drop acid. It’s one thing to wake up in Margaritaville with a new tattoo. It’s a totally different matter waking up with an orchiectomy.  What if I’m just weary?  Weary of caring for ex wives, women, men , children, bureaucrats.  

I’m certainly blessed to know God.  I’m thankful for the worship circles and meetings and the folk who seem to know the ‘self’ I see as me, not the clothing or persona.  

It doesn’t matter much today.  I’m happy.  ‘Don’t worry, be happy!” The popular island song parroted the words of Jesus. Do not be afraid.  “I love you.” God says.  

I can honestly say I’ve done this today, ‘for me’.  The popular phrase of post yuppie narcissism.  

I laughed when my biker friend Bob, trying on a short skirt, said “You know if I wanted a man or a woman I’d dress like I am…..when I dress up I scare away 90% of either sex, “ It just think it’s a selector for the unconventional,  At least I’m not a ‘furry’.   I could be a Trekkie and wear Dr. Spock costumes. God forbid I go to all the troubles golfers do to have an excuse to dress funny in public.  

Thank you Jesus!