Today when I was folding laundry, I turned on the TV and skimmed the channels for something to watch. I ended up finding an episode of Sex in the City.
As I listened to Carrie Bradshaw’s voice-over on men and dating, it dawned on me that watching Sex in the City is a very un-butch thing to do. It’s more of a gay man’s show, considering the shoes and the clothes and the boyfriends. Of course, there’s Cynthia Nixon, and I think Samantha flirts with being a lesbian in one episode, but that can’t counter all of the penises and Louboutins. Really, I shouldn’t even know what Louboutins are.
Anyway, the show got me thinking about the un-butch things that this butch does.
Now, of course, we’re treading into the land of stereotypes here. But I’ve been quite open about the fact that I’m a stereotypical butch lesbian. See blog name. Also, I’m wearing a thermal henley and a sweatshirt that W bought for me from the men’s department of Target as I type this post. And, I have been looking for my Black & Decker drill all damn day, which I haven’t been able to locate for the life of me.
So, in no particular order, here are some random counter-butch things about me:
1. I have long fingernails. If you ask W what’s the most nonbutch thing about me, she would tell you that it’s my long fingernails. How do I know this?
She’s always telling me to post about my nails. “Why don’t you tell everyone about your nails?” she says.
The nails are the last thing left from the feminine life and times of middle age butch. Back in the day, I used to rock long, red nails, perfectly manicured and painted. When I see my college friend’s husband, he still comments on those nails from days gone by. They were that stunning.
People used to tell me that I should be a hand model, which makes me the George Costanza of lesbians.
Jerry: George has become a hand model.
Kramer: A hand model?
Kramer: Really? Let me look at them.
George: You can look at them, but do NOT touch them
Kramer: Let’s see … oh, those are nice. You know, I’ve never noticed this before. They’re smooth … creamy … delicate, yet masculine.
I’ve shed the nail polish, but I still keep my nails on the long side. I like to think of them as a vestigial appendage. Like a stumpy tail of sorts.
2. I giggle. Only around W, though. She loves to make me giggle. Sometimes at night with the sheets pulled up tight, we giggle like a couple of schoolgirls at a slumber party.
3. I scream when I see small rodents. Like when there’s a bat (or winged rodent) flying around the room. Those bastards will get tangled in even the shortest, dykiest haircut. Or, when there’s a mouse trapped in the bathtub. See here.
4. I sport a pair of athletic socks with a pink Nike swoosh. I rock these socks when I’m in a really good mood. Sometimes I’ll accessorize a very masculine outfit with these bad boys. Real butches wear pink.
They always make me think of that cat from Mutts. So cute.
5. I have flowered underwear. I buy packs of Fruit of the Loom or Hanes high-cut briefs from Target. They usually come in a packs of six or eight and at least one pair is flowered. Always. I wish they were decorated with little sock monkeys or mud flap girls but they aren’t. I’ve looked. Maybe I should start buying men’s drawers.
The flowered undies usually sit at the bottom of my underwear drawer. Until I’m out of plain underwear or I’m in a really bad mood. Here’s my train of thought: How can my day get any worse? I’m already wearing flowered underpants.
What about you? What’s the un-butchest thing you do?