Tag Archives: football

The stories we tell

When I had my bridal shower back in the day when marrying a man seemed like a good idea, I was supposed to stand up at the end and say a few words.

I’m not very good at speaking in front of groups of people.  Even in front of people I know.

As I sat on a chair in the center of the room in my floral dress from The Limited and started stammering, I was rescued by my best friend.

Beaver Stadium“Kick-off is in 30 minutes.  We have to go she said.”

It was a perk that came with being alumni of a university with a dominating football program.

It’s been our running gag every time I am nervous about speaking in front of a group of people or trying to get out of an uncomfortable situation.

“Can’t you come and tell them kick-off is in 30 minutes?” I ask.

Even when it’s not football season.

Last week, I called my friend and told her that because of my book I have an opportunity to speak at a large, multinational company that has an office near my house.  The company has an LGBT group and often has speakers come in.

She tells me to go for it.

“But you know me and public speaking,” I say.

“Maybe it’s time to stop telling yourself the story that you’re not good at public speaking,” she says.

She’s a terrible friend.  The worst, really.

After I get off the phone with her, I think about the power of story.  The stories we tell ourselves.  The stories we tell others.

Then I stumble across this quote about storytelling:

“Being a storyteller is about helping other people tell their stories.”

I know my presentation will address the power of story.  That’s my passion.

In my head, I am mapping out how it will go.

NecktieI am working on a new story about going to the company that first time for a meeting. I am unsure about what to wear.  I am afraid about being judged for being a woman wearing men’s clothes in a corporate work environment.  About looking like a little girl who just raided her dad’s closet.

I sit on the edge of my bed and remind myself to be me.

It will be ok, I tell myself.  Stand tall.  Be strong.  Be butch.  Be yourself.

It’s a pep talk.

Another story.

* * *

What are the stories (good and bad) you tell yourself?

Superbowl flashback

So, it’s Super Bowl Sunday.  We’ll all huddle around our TV screen like the rest of America.  I made a big pot of chili this morning.  And we’ll have snacks and soda.  I might even crack open a beer or two.  It is the Super Bowl after all.

We always do a family football pool.  I pick out silly prizes.  The kids still love it.

So, yeah, whatever.

So, yeah, whatever.

But here’s the thing.  I’m not a Broncos fan or a Seahawks fan, so I don’t have a rooting interest.  It is football, so there’s that.  I’ll probably root for the Seahawks.  I’m a diehard Steelers fan who appreciates a good defense.  But it would be something to see Peyton lead two different teams to Superbowl victories.  So, yeah, whatever.

Of course, there are the commercials.  Funny stuff and hot babes.  What’s not to like?

And the halftime show.  Bruno Mars.  So, yeah, whatever.

Last year, there was Beyoncé.  You had me at Beyoncé.  Do you remember Beyoncé?

Beyoncé, Beyoncé, Beyoncé …


Middle-age butch is being transported back to February 2013.

And Beyoncé, Beyoncé, Beyoncé …

* * *

You had me at Beyoncé (a re-post from Feb. 4, 2013)


I was just sitting here at my computer daydreaming.  About last night’s Super Bowl.

I’m sure you’re thinking that’s not so out of character for Middle-age butch.  You are, after all, a flannel-clad, masculine-leaning, sports-obsessed lesbian, you might say.  Isn’t watching football mandatory for your kind?

Why, yes, I did watch the game.

But the truth of the matter is that I really wasn’t that into it.  I’m not a fan of either team.  The match-up didn’t excite me.  And I gave up betting on sports years ago.



Beyoncé, Beyoncé, Beyoncé

But then there was Beyoncé.

Looking all Amazon warrior in that black leather outfit/lingerie.  Like the fucking queen of the Amazons.

Her long legs stretched all the way to the top of the Superdome.  I’m pretty sure that’s why the power went out.

Now, I have never been a Beyoncé.  I’ve always preferred TLC over Destiny’s Child.  I usually like my rock stars a little more edgy (see Melissa Etheridge), and soulful (see Melissa Etheridge) and angry lesbian (see Melissa Etheridge).

But then there was Beyoncé.

Shaking her perfect hips and wagging her finger.  Looking all Sasha Fierce.

The all-girl band didn’t hurt, either.  Damn.

I politely clapped after each number.

The kids kept telling me that Beyoncé can’t hear me.

They are rude and impertinent.  And know nothing about sports.

Besides, it really didn’t matter.  During those 12 minutes, it was just me and Beyoncé.

So, the highlight of Super Bowl XLVII?

The half-time show.

I’m pretty sure someone is going to be showing up soon to revoke my Butch Lesbian card.