It’s time again for another Addition to the Queer Lexicography.
Sometimes I like to split elements of my night into “Glamorous” or “Unglamorous”. Tonight, for example, my old roommate Blaney came over and made me Fauxrizo tacos and we split a bottle of Pinot Noir. Having someone come to your house to cook for you? Decidedly glamorous. Taking a bath and finishing it off with a cream colored satin robe? Also glamorous (and a great investment, mine was $18 and I love it very much).
Blaney and me at the Dyke March.
Unglamorous? The part where my cat, Bear, has developed this gooey eye thing today and continues to insist on pooping in front of my current roommate’s bedroom door. Bear, unglamorous.
Loungerie. I blogged about this concept before, but now it has a word! (I forget who gave it to me.) Anything lingerie you buy that is really more for loungewear. Some lingerie is a little too… uncomfortable to be for lounging. But some is a nice long gown or a comfy chemise or a perfect cream colored satin robe and makes excellent loungerie.
Same Time Next Year: This is a term for someone with whom you have a standing arrangement for doing it about once a year. Works really well if you both attend the same yearly conference or event. It originates from this really awesome movie from the 70s of the same name. If you can sub into your mind when you watch it that it would work a lot more ethically if these people were just nonmonogamous or polyamorous, it helps to get through it. It also helps to get through it if you can overlook the Johnny Mathis theme song.
Oh but it is so very endearing and it’s such a sweeter and more tender way to say something than “fuck buddy”. The nice part about STNY is the little bits of romance and fun reconnection that set it apart from just friends who do it now and again. Anyway. I think it is just marvelous.
20Femme: I talked about this in my last post, but it’s worth an addition. This is the year of the Femme! Imagine all of the most admirable traits of the most awesome Femmes you know, and figure out a way to embody those traits yourself this year! There’s no stopping us now!!
And a twitter submission tonight. Via Sarah Dopp : Proposing “exacerpated” as a new hybrid word. Means: bitterly enamored.
Oh, I’ve been exacerpated. I probably am right now. “I’m so crushed out on that girl but her insecurity leaves me exacerpated. I just can’t do it to someone who isn’t into themselves.”
Femme cannot be bought. Period. But the process of putting together a style that makes you feel comfortable in your skin does sometimes take some scrappiness and bargain shopping. I love bargain shopping--I call it Femme Hunting. Half the time the process of getting together an outfit is fun in and of itself.
So it is in this spirit of opening dialogue about Femme Hunting that I present my new blog series: Girl You Look Expensive****. I'll find a fierce fat femme, interview her about her outfit and post it here. The idea is how you can look fierce and fashionable without spending a lot of money.
Laycation: A Laycation is a vacation or staycation (where you don't leave your town or home) with a lover where the intent or the result is that you do it the whole time. A vacation to get laid. Or a "we're so broke we can't do anything and we're long distance so we're just going to lay around and do it when she comes to town" sort of adventure. I love the idea of a Laycation, especially considering how in the queer community often our lovers need to be imported from other places to keep things fresh and ethical.
"Sorry to miss your party, my long distance romance Shawna is only in town for three days--we're going to be on laycation the whole time."
Liz was fat, too. Not just sort of in between fat, either, like my mom and other female relatives were at the time (though now, of course, most of them are around my size). She was short and round, with a round face, black curly hair and a mouth that was always smiling. She was half Italian half Mexican and very girly.
The first time we met, Liz was ready to be a huge part of my life. I was mistrustful and didn't understand why she loved me so much already. I was used to adults liking me, since as an only child I learned to socialize well with grown-ups and I was very bright. But the way she just immediately loved me, in that I-loved-you-before-I-knew-you way that parents talk about felt so weird. As I continued into adolescence and hated myself more and more, the more suspicious I was of her unconditional love.