Yesterday I went to a new doctor’s office for an intake visit, since my old doctor is leaving her practice for reasons of her own to which I am not privy. No doctor is perfect, but mine had two very good qualities: she was really nice, and she was a lesbian. I guess I sort of forgot how important both these things are, being used to extreme compromise when it comes to medical personnel, and I was just buzzing along through my intake yesterday: buxom, young, straight blonde receptionist, check, slightly alternative straight brunette rocker chick turned nurse, check, buxom, young, straight blonde PA, check. And then, as I was leaving, I saw the one male staff member, an adorable Latino gay boy, who gave me an adorable gay boy touch on my arm as he showed me where to exit the office, and do you know? My spirits were lifted to on high. It’s so funny. You don’t realize what you’re missing until you’re shown that things can be different. Now that I’ve been intook, I won’t get to meet the actual doctor until sometime in December, but I feel so much more hopeful about the whole practice now that I’ve been touched by a fellow queer who works there. Which leads me to my new haircut.
For quite some time, my (complicated and curly) hair has been in such a state that I could only wear it in a ponytail. I was mired in indecision about getting it cut. Tex doesn’t want it to be too short, and neither of us thinks a bob is in order and I’m so tired of getting this boring layered thing that looks ok on the day of the cut when the stylist blow dries it to a fare-thee-well but just goes blah the next day that I just kept raking it back into a pony tail. I’m just not one of those femmes who drops everything until she looks perfect; I’d rather be reading a book. Anyway, I finally forced myself to go over to a local salon a friend recommended and a very nice young, straight Turkish woman gave me this cut that at first made me cry. But then…it turned out it looks amazing! And may actually be the cut I’ve been looking for my whole life. One friend said I look like a bohemian writer from the 20s in a small sea village in England, and I would like to add “lesbian” to that description, one who wears long skirts and sturdy boots and strides about on long tramps through the landscape, rain or shine, with some very nice dogs at her heels.
At church the Sunday after I got my cut, this butch lesbian I admire came up and hugged me and said in my ear, “You look beautiful! I love your haircut!” Not only did her words completely melt me, I realized that I have the capacity to cheer up my fellow queers just by looking cute. God knows, seeing other queers when I’m out and about lifts my spirits and gives me the strength to carry on. I would like to do my part! And of course, looking cute as much as possible is most satisfying for ye ol’ spouse, as well.
When I first came home with the haircut, Seth (who has undergone a sort of sea change lately) said it looked “very you, Mom, kind of nutty in a good way”. Looking good for other queers and for one’s family is very different from having to look good for men, something I rebelled strongly against as a young woman. Tripping about with cute hair and my new, pulled together style of sexy, femme, updated Virginia Wolf/Gertrude Stein long skirt and vest sort of ensemble – hey! Cheer up! You aren’t alone out here.
The Total Femme 