Belated gifts

Don't you just love packages?

Don’t you just love packages?

I got a belated birthday gift in the mail today from a college friend.

If you are the type of person who routinely sends cards and presents a few days or even a few weeks late and often feels guilty about your tardiness, Middle-age butch is here to tell you to stop right now.

This gift recipient loves an after-the-fact gift.  It merely stretches out the holiday and gives you something to look forward to long after your special day has passed.  And just when you think that your magical celebration has come to pass much like 30 Rock, floppy discs and answering machines, there’s one more gift to remind you that you are special and loved.

Your favorite butch blogger received such a gift today.

A few weeks ago, my friend e-mailed and asked for the file that contains the flannel graphic for my blog banner.  She mentioned that it had something to do with my birthday gift, but was all hush hush on the specifics.

I must admit that my mind has been wandering.  I was thinking that maybe she used the flannel design to create an official Flannel Files T-shirt.  Or had an actual flannel shirt crafted from the banner image.  Hey, they can do that on Project Runway.  Or maybe she had a Middle-age butch bobblehead made in my image depicting me clad in a Flannel Files style flannel shirt.  Seems that I’ve been dreaming of flannel more than usual these past few weeks.

My flannel-fixated anticipation ended this afternoon.  My gift arrived today — 20 days after my official birthday — but who’s counting.

When I opened the box, I must admit to getting a bit teary no matter how hard I tried to use my butch super powers to resist.

This photo does not do the cup justice.

This photo does not do the cup justice.

Upon opening the box, I spied a Flannel Files cup.

It’s a Tervis travel cup that proudly bears my flannel blog banner and these Flannel Files quotes:

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step of your Dr. Martens.

Be your best butch.

My friends will never know what it means to me to have them not only accept and support me but embrace me.  To embrace this big goofy butch who is still on a journey of self-discovery.

I’ve been doing some memoir writing lately and have been digging deep and remembering what it was like to carry a secret so deep inside that even I didn’t know the truth that I was hiding.  One of my worst fears was that my friends would discover what it was that made me different from them and never want to have anything to do with me.

*Sigh of relief.*  That has not been the case.

I still worry, though, as I continue to transform and change, leaning more into the masculine side of myself.  I suppose that I will always worry.  Maybe that is the cost of being different.  A restlessness that never ends.

But I focus on all the times that they told me that they are proud of me.  The time that they drove long distances to come to my 40th birthday party at a lesbian bar no less.  And when they came out in full force for our commitment ceremony.

And I’ll always remember when one of them sent me a drinking glass that let me know that it’s perfectly ok for me to revel in my butchness.

Cheers.  I’ll drink to that any day of the week.

Advertisements

7 responses to “Belated gifts

  1. You have amazing friends. 🙂

    And that is by far the butchiest travel cup I have ever seen.

    In my best Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure voice: Like, totally butchin’, dude.

    Birthdays are awesome.

  2. Such a cool present! And so thoughtful… I love it!

  3. I want one, and I’m not even a butch. What a great friend.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s