The Woodworker’s Dilemma

Isn’t it nice to be dancing again?
Standing cheek to cheek and all that

Who even does that anymore?

Stop dear, you’ll mess up my makeup.

Less a refutation of your contact and more a Divine “Look at me I’m doing FINE!”

Absolutely so fabulous

I’m afraid sometimes to live out in a dress

Like I got this beautiful little Summer dress and all I want to do is wear it but I can’t for the life of me decide when best to wear it.  Because I’ll look ridiculous, and it’s not a joke, I really just want to wear a dress and be beautiful.  How dramatic and shallow of me.  Still waters run deep they say, but I haven’t sat still for a moment, not that I’m going anywhere I just feel trapped inside my body sometimes and I just want to let it out.  Have you ever felt like that?  Trapped in your body?  Like your soul is trying to escape in every way it can, peaking through every little crevice and crack a bit of light flooding out.  Giving off waves wondering if it’s leaving you or you’re really losing it right now.  I assure you the night took a downturn after that comment.  Downtown I hear there’s a bear about a bar hunting pixie dust and twinkies, I left for fear of winning gold as a man and dreamed of returning for my crowning in an evening gown and wanting a million people to shout my name in a million tongues never knowing which linguistic to hang upon

Part of me thinks if I had been born a woman I’d have more sense, I’d probably be a real loose lady,

If I were a woman, I’d chop down trees to make forts and eat pancakes

I’d look damn great in a dress and I’d make my own dresses and costumes,

I’d definitely be a cosplayer too, I’d model the shit out of that stuff.

I’d still be a badass in the theater.  I’d build shows from the ground up and be a kick ass show and I’d still be wild and crazy, I’d push the envelope more and argue with men in the streets for their shitty views on women, I’d even sock one in the nose, if it came to that.   I’d fuck like a goddess and swallow men whole or break them with a look.  I’d climb trees and collect fruit for food, or out of dumpsters, a lot of that is still good.  If I were a woman I’d have a husband and a wife.  I’d sing in jazz bars and nightclubs.  I’d been dancing since I was on two feet.  I’d play ukulele still, but piano too or violin.  I don’t think my soul bothered to check my gender, nor do I think it cared, I was coming in hot and fast and there was nothing sperm nor egg could do about it.  I’d be a great mom, and I would destroy anyone that tried to harm them like a mother bear, and a great cook.  At least, that’s what I think I’d be like, if I were a woman.

When I have a kid every year I’m going to make a year long contract with my child, that while perhaps cute in the very first years like Party A heretoforth referred to as “The Baby” will additionally agree to any cute baby names of the moment  and any nicknames accrued thereof shall henceforth be fair game until such age as when “The Baby” can express own personal opinions however childlike in design.  It would, in my mind work its way into a rather empowering exercise in their development.   When I ask of them to chop wood or sew clothing as girls and boys respectively are want to do.  They then can thus argue that Party B heretoforth referred to as “Dad” or whatever, shall allow up to two sleepovers, provide $20, room and board, the respectful use of things not belonging to “the baby” on a weekly basis.  I’ll rebut with a practice daily, climb trees and help with the cooking at least twice a week and you got yourself a deal partner.  It’s just my next best friend and me, exploring the world together.

Enough about my damn kids, I might never have any.

I’m probably not going to ever be a woman either, but we’ll see.

I gotta check my laundry

Gotta get up early

Cut some wood.

Advertisements

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