Here in the idlewylde of Provincetown where I am denning for most of October, here sandwiched up between Commercial Street and the cloud-filled sky above the moving ocean, one day last week I woke up and, in a moment of queer femme wisdom and grace, realized that today would be Total Femme Day.
All me.
All the time.
All by myself.
Ooh, what did you do? you ask, my doting dizzy delectable queer femme sisters.
Chi kung on the deck as the sun rose.
Bask in the blessing of a great blue heron flying right over my head I could hear its wing beats.
Breakfast reading my book.
Big nap on the couch.
Catch myself in the mirror – damn, I look happy! Relaxed, even, slowed down.
Ponder my current jigsaw puzzle, put in a piece or two, ahhhhhhhh, so satisfying!
Drive to the Truro library, browse, banter with the librarian, check out some books.
Run a grocery errand, stop in the thrift store, consider getting gas and decide to wait.
Back home to sit on the beach all bundled up reading my book and watching a cormorant in the waves, dive under swim, pop up paddle, dive under swim, pop up paddle.
I went out on the deck a lot.
In the evening I had a glass of wine out there. There was a moment when the seagulls flying overhead were lit up on their underside by the setting sun.
To light!
To flying!
Do do do tell, TTF, honey, what didn’t you do? you ask, my daring divine dishy queer femme sisters.
Screens. I didn’t do screens. No computer, no phone, no tv.
No
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e
e
e
e
e
e
e
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I’m not saying it was a breeze or easy. Even though I felt reasonably secure in knowing that everyone I care about is doing ok, that there was nothing pending I had to address right that day, that devastating news, nice news, connection and questions and hellos and oooh, that’s interesting could all wait, it wasn’t that easy.
But I came into it. I flexed some brain and heart muscles and gave myself a few little talking tos, and I came into it.
In fact, I started feeling rather deliciously naughty.
Like I was getting away with something. Like I was being such a bad, bad girl.
It’s not that I couldn’t feel all the nasty prickly icky nibbly teeth gnashing and crashing and trying to bite me back to the on-screen world, but I kept accessing my fuck no and you can fucking wait and I’ll fire it all back up to-fucking-morrow, and I let it prickle prickle prickle until it trickled away.
I got to where I just leaned into that delicious rebel feeling and went went went with it.
My own brain and heart and spirit and need and soul and imagination directed me, and I welcomed and embarced my marvelous, naughty, Total Femme Day.
Oh, you elegant biscottis, you cuddle puddles, you lessons in glamor and spitfire and ardor!
What does a day just for you look like? Manifest it, bring it into being, call it to you! The controls we labor under crowd out our own intentions and inventions and desires. But there is space for the taking.
Take up space.
Allow your mind to wander.
Do something that makes you giggle, makes you skip, makes you remember your absolute gorgeous unique and beatific deep down femme soul.
Be naughty today.
Every Monday I offer a Meditation for Queer Femmes, in the spirit of my maternal grandmother, Mimi, who was fabulous, and from whom I inherited her Meditations for Women. This Monday, special post from the stoop of Womencrafts. xoxoxo
At the Total Femme, my intention has been to post three times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, and Femme Friday on Friday. Lately, I’ve just been concentrating on Mondays. And sometimes weeks go by… I’m here, though. I’m here. Do you have a post you’d like to share? That would be fucking awesome! Contact me at thetotalfemme@gmail.com
The Total Femme 