Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Update On Wedding Dress & Can Can Sale

One month and somewhat days until my wedding day and I still have not found a dress. Let me just say one thing: I hate shopping. I’m so not your typical ‘girly girl’ where all she wants to do is spend money on shopping and primping---give me top shelf booze instead.

So my experience yesterday was absolutely horrific. I spent too much time at this formal wedding gown shop or “shoppe”---whatever the frig you wanna call it and got the whole “oooooooooooooooh try this one on” type of treatment. Nice. Catering. Princess-like treatment. Total disaster.

I need to separate my damn paragraphs for this…

1rst dress:
Tall sophisticated lady throws this huge satin purple prom dress up on the display hanger.
“You have to try this on in order to know if you’ll like it or not.”
“NO. It’s a prom dress.”
“Really, you have to see it on first.”
“NO. It’s purple.”

She scoots me in the huge dressing room and throws a pair of ugly gold high-heeled shoes with a bunch of straps all over them. By the time I managed to get all the straps together to make sure they were on correctly, a huge mother load of ugly dresses were flung over the curtain rail.

2nd dress:
Some beige, off-white sequenced up to the max looking window curtain is the first one I try on.

“Feet first.”
“Thanks.”

I slip into it and the damn thing doesn’t get half past my ass.

“Too small.”
“Oh let me see.”
WHAAAAAAP---the curtain goes flying open and I’m standing there with the dress squeezing both my legs together with the top flopping down to my knees.

“It. doesn’t. fit.” I said, now angry that she has shown the entire shop my boobage and the junk that can’t fit in the trunk.

3rd dress:
“What the?”
“Oh just put it on and come out here.”
She said, totally knowing that I was going to have a conniption fit. I stepped into it and put the spaghetti straps over my shoulders.

“Now come out here so I can zipper you up.”


I walked out, noticing that for some reason, it was quite difficult to get out of the dressing room due to the can can look of the dress. I looked like something from the 1800’s. She swirls me out to the big circus mirror and to my horror, I was one of those ‘Can Can Girls’ from those Shoprite commercials. She zippered me up, my waist went in and the boobs went up, and the dress below blew up like a balloon! I could have fit 12 midgets under that sucka’.

“No.”
“Don’t like?”
“I feel like I’m 70 first of all and second of all, I look like a damn can can girl!”
“Ok, go back in the fitting room.”

4th dress:
Apparently, the woman got frustrated with me because I told her “nontraditional dress”, but she did the inevitable straight girl’s dream: she handed me a 200 lb WHITE dream wedding dress.

I stood there holding this heavy ass dress in my hands mumbling, "Oh. muyyy. GAWD." The thickness of the dress alone was 3 inches. Are you crazy? WHITE + GURTH?

“No.”
“What?”

I didn’t even step into it. Instead, I had a full-fledged anxiety attack, handed the lady her huge behemoth of a wedding dress and went to the local bar,

…and drank heavily.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Slide the Soapbox Ova' Here Please...

The morning started off bad. We ran out of coffee and had to use a blend from a gift bag we got a few months ago with an Elvis logo on it. The coffee was irritatingly strong and tasted like freshly brewed mierda. It’s the thought that counts, right? I headed back into the kitchen to pour no brand cereal into my bowl. Madelene insists on getting the “Cheerio-like” cereals in a ‘no brand name’, but hell if she’s touching my Special K. Anyway, while pouring the contents of this disgusting cereal, a huge blobby cereal grain covered something or other fell out into the bowl. Whatever was in the factory or scurrying around apparently fell right into the box. Lovely. Mind you, this was after the fact Madelene ate two bowls of it. That’ll teach her. I won’t be suing, although I really could use the extra cash.

I’m highly sensitive and grumpy today. I am avoiding every single person that knows me or may meet me in person accidentally. I am in full isolation mode. You may read my words but hell if you’re gonna get a real live person on the phone or even see me for that matter. I’m not even PMSing. Everyone, including my neighbors are irritating the hell outa’ me. Maybe I’m pregnant. Who knows? Stranger things have happened, like the pregnant “man”, right? Maybe I’m pre-menopausal? Eeek.

This should be a joyful time in my life with setting up for my upcoming wedding and looking forward to a beautiful life with my Madelene, but it somehow turned out to be a tension cord for other people.

Here are my gripes about an array of things that are irritating me. Bear with me because I’m in a pissy mood and need to vent.

*There are some who “assume” that because Madelene and I have been together for 15 years, (and have separated a coupla’ times during that period), that we no longer are intimate. First of all, it’s nobody’s business what we do behind closed doors. However, let me publicly announce that it’s never been so good as it is today. Pffft. Nuff’ said about that. I hate talking about my sex life because it’s absolutely distasteful.

*My mother won’t let me take her out for ishnips (a friend clam strip appetizer) and a few drinks because she feels that I cannot afford it since I now have a new condo and more bills to pay. No, I don’t have a million dollar mansion or ten luxury cars sitting in my garage that I don’t have, but I think I can afford $3.99 a plate for some damn ishnips. Now I can’t even have lunch with my own mother like I used to before I started living here. Instead, I left her house and bought 2 lbs of Chilean sea bass (which is $22 per lb) and expensive wine for Madelene and I to enjoy later that evening. And to think, we didn’t end up in the streets after that meal. I know my mother cares about my well-being and affordability, but it’s sad to think I can’t take her out to lunch anymore.

*This next gripe may sound childish and probably most likely is, but every single one of my sisters has received some type of “surprise party” or something set up just for them. From birthday parties, engagement parties to bridal showers, bachelorette parties and baby showers. I went to all of their showers, surprise parties, weddings and other parties which were fun, but none of them ever attended my parties. Waaa waaa waaaa, right? There were a couple of important parties I didn’t attend, only because I genuinely didn’t feel well. I got flak for not attending a couple of them from my mother. I personally don’t want a “surprise party” but it would be nice if my family would attend a function I’m having once in a while. Sometimes I think it’s because of the guest list---that they may not be able to relate to some of the LGBTabcdefghi groups. Whatever. Assumptions assumptions. It’s not like I ban the heterosexuals from my parties, in fact, sometimes they outweigh the gays and lesbians at my parties. (Not physically of course.) Or maybe it's because it's too small of a venue for them. Hrmm. The root cause of this issue I have is that I don't feel my life or my relationships are ever taken seriously by the people I love the most, which hurts.

*“Hey, we’re getting married!” Do you know I didn’t get one “congratulations” from my family? Only one sister congratulated me. It’s not that I want a pat on the back for getting married, but now that it’s finally legal and we’re having a nice ceremony in MA, it would be nice if my family took my relationship seriously as a heterosexual one. I'm not even expecting any of them to travel 6 friggin hours from NY to MA either. I realize that is just too much. I understand my parents not ‘getting it’ because they’re old school and not used to it, so I appreciate their total acceptance with my lifestyle- period. They’ve accepted me from the day I came out of that stuffy closet.

*I was warned not to have a baby in fears that I may ask my parents to baby sit or have one of my sisters watch them. First of all, I would never do that. I would hire a trusted baby sitter and pay them. Yes, I can afford a baby sitter. Then the discussion went on to say that I’ll be sick and that I would never be able to handle being pregnant. The least expected parents are usually the best ones. I was advised to take my nieces and nephews for a few nights, but in my own personal opinion, without the appropriate discipline that I feel they need, (with all due respect) I would have no control if they don’t listen to me because I have no right to discipline them since I am not their mother. A day visit or seeing them with their mother is good enough for me. I love them all, but refuse to watch them overnight in fear of an uncontrollable situation. With discipline, I mean verbal control and letting the children know that they can’t get away with b/s. I don’t believe in hitting a child.

So for now, for this year, I am without child because this is our first year in our new home and I want to be able to enjoy Madelene and share a romantic, fulfilling life with her on many levels. I refuse to let others dictate how my life should be and I’m sick and tired of some people trying to justify their life by comparing it with mine.

*Steps off soapbox*

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

The End of Insomnia

When life gets busy, our home generally doesn’t regenerate paper towels, toilet paper, eggs, milk—you get my drift. It’s up until I open up the refrigerator door and realize, “Oh no! I gotta go shopping!” I’m certainly not going to eat Szechuan chicken at 6am along with my coffee. It’s toast and butter for now. Anticipating the cooler fall-like day we’re going to have today, my plans include grocery shopping as well as plant shopping. I’ve been on this big ‘plant excursion' for the past couple of months. Madelene comes home to a jungle and the first words out of her mouth are: “Are they fake?”

*blink*

It’s a cute little odd life I have here. I wake up quite early to write, edit and submit my articles to my editor and then my workday ends in mid-morning, which kicks in my newly domesticated ass in gear. I trek down to the local farm where they sell plants and other home goodies. I never thought I’d be one of those ‘green thumbers’ but lately, even living in a condo with not a blade of grass to claim as my own, my place is looking more like Tarzan’s palace. The thing that really pushed this “green insanity” is, I realized that my insomnia quickly dissipated once I put a few plants our my bedroom. In fact, not only do I sleep for a good 8-10 hours per night--I even take a nap at 3pm if my day is free and clear, wake up, clean like a lunatic and prepare dinner for Madelene once she gets home from work. I don’t know what these plants are doing for me, (other than supplying the lack of oxygen in my brain), but I’m loving it and apparently, obsessed.

So, if you’re having insomnia, I urge you to buy real live plants and place them throughout your home and especially the bedroom, and watch yourself go into a deep slumber. Please don’t forget to water these living creatures... That’s kind of important!

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Do You "Goggle" or Yahoo?

Ok, so this is probably getting old for those of you who read this drab of a blog, but mom’s come up with a new lingo...

While sitting down relaxing, she discusses ways of advertising my dad’s business more efficiently. As you know, my mom’s not so familiar with the computer or the internet.

Things said such as:
“Don’t you be meeting those people on that ‘intercom’!”
“Deb, can you bring over your ‘blacktop’ later so I can shop for better prices?”
“Your sister constantly ‘tex mexes’ people on her phone!”


Now, she has added one more to her list:
“What about Goggle?”

No, that wasn’t a typo either. She’s heard here and there about “Google”, but she insists on calling it, “Goggle”. It kind of makes sense if you’re ‘searching’ for something, why not call it Goggle or Goggles? Unfortunately for those of you who wanted to bank on this new website, Goggles---it’s already taken.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Alone in a Crowded Chat Room

Flipping through tons of spam from erectile dysfunction companies and email from people in Kenya asking me to deposit part of their inheritance into my personal bank account had my head spinning. It was a pleasant surprise to get an email from a real person who reads my blog. I haven’t had time nor the juice to write lately and have been mainly focused on trying to get the wedding together by October. The usual dramas that take up 80% of my brain have been distracted by thoughts of ‘what dress to buy’, ‘which photographer to go with’, as well as, ‘do you think this venue is ok’. Wedding planning has occupied most of the main lobby of my frontal lobe, and believe me, there’s not much room to spare. It was a pleasure to finally delve into someone else’s drama other than my own.

“Katie” just got her heart broken. Let me rephrase that. “Katie’s” heart has been broken for quite some time. Her boyfriend ended things with her about 6 months ago. Since then, it’s been nothing but pointless banters over frivolous matters and unnecessary phone calls that were made on both parts which ultimately escalated any bitterness and resentment of their breakup into full-fledged arguments each and every time. Though there’s still love there, the relationship just had to end. Katie’s little conundrum of a dilemma rises to an all time low of depression, yet she doesn’t even realize she is in the midst of it. From what she has described as “her life now” is much more of a sad scenario than I thought it to be.

Anyone knows that there are tall tale signs of depression. The symptoms may be obvious but there are other symptoms that may seem just a bit “normal” or possibly mainstream and overlooked. Katie has dove headfirst into her work—which is good for the first months of any breakup. Occupying your mind and time can be a healthy thing. What happened was, she lost all contact with her friends and family and started isolating herself. She woke up, ate breakfast, went to work, came home, ate dinner, checked her email and then went to bed. This pattern lasted for some time, but now a new pattern has taken its place when she gets home from work: online chatting. She eats her dinner while chatting with strange anonymous cyber people.

We’ve all done it. We’ve all been there. To me, chatting is so “1995”, and sometimes it can be fun to have an online sounding board, that is if the chat rooms you’re venturing into are worthwhile. I used to spend a lot of time in the religious and political rooms, where people could actually voice over their thoughts or type it in. It was highly stimulating, especially during the final days of voting for a new president. Anyway, it seems to me that Katie is in these mindless chat rooms talking to people who are in the same position or just plain all out bizarre. I’m not quite sure if she can get anything out of this particular room that seems to be the primary focus of her life right now.

She now claims that she “hates” her ex-boyfriend and has no desire to run back to him, and yet then with the same breath also wonders about his whereabouts and constantly treks into his Myspace page. I’ve also learned that her ex-boyfriend is willing to work things out with her, but she is absolutely outraged and bitter about everything that has transpired. Talking it out only led to her lashing out. She has even discussed her dilemma with the entire group of this chat room. The advice from the peanut gallery was what you’d expect from other jaded women: “Get rid of him!” “What a creep!” “You don’t deserve that!” “Tell him to take a hike!” Of course this is all without knowledge of the full elaborate story of their relationship and the breakup. The group got bits and pieces of the puzzle, which is now all that’s left of their relationship. It’s not intact any longer, yet the puzzle pieces are still there. Can they get it together even as friends? How long can this pattern of wondering, longing, missing their counterpart keep going on like this? She is unable to maintain new relationships and has been single ever since.
Word is out that her ex-boyfriend is possibly seeing a new woman and it may be more serious than she thought. Katie questions whether she should try talking to him or miss any opportunity to get him back into her life. For now, as far he knows, she “hates” him. With that kind of message, it only spells: move on and forget her. There was never abuse or any destructiveness within the relationship—only conflict of interests, jealousy and escalated arguments. In my personal opinion, these can all be worked out. Holding the anger and bitterness will never get Katie anywhere other than she is right now: alone, yet surrounded by many in a chat room.

Katie,

I think maybe it would be wise to start “chatting” with your ex, if you still love him. Communicate your feelings about what happened and yet, try to look beyond all of the things that have hurt you in the past and realize that it’s not too late. If you don’t communicate this to him, he will never know how you truly feel. I can’t see how sitting in an idle chat room will help you either to move on or to communicate more efficiently about what it is you truly want.

Thank you for opening up for me and allowing me to include your story onto my blog. You might get some good advice in the comment section. Good luck!

Wishing you all the best,
Deb


What are your thoughts?

Thursday, August 07, 2008

I'm Calling Off the Wedding!

…I yelled out, while tears streamed down my cheeks because of the hormonal chaos that was rumbling inside of me.

“I haven’t even picked out a dress!”
“We’ll go together this week to look for one, Deb.”
“It’s too short of time and I want everything to be perfect!”
“It will be sweetie, everything is falling into place.”
she says, trying to console me.

It’s not cold feet—it’s more or less trying to OCD over every single aspect of the wedding. God bless Madelene’s mom. She grew up in a Pentecostal household and found out about 10 years ago that her daughter, Madelene was a lesbian. Her mom took it hard, but not because she wasn’t open-minded, it was just that she saw her daughter wed a man once before and wanted the “good life” for her—meaning well taken care of by a man and having children. My mom wanted the same exact thing. It’s pretty normal for those who grew up in a religious-type of family who raised more than enough kids.

While sitting at the dining room table eating dinner with Madelene’s mom and her boyfriend, Madelene decided to tell them that we were getting married this coming October. With a tinge of shellshock, her mom let out an over enthused “oh” along with, a “well how come you’re telling us now”, followed by a story of her close relative who didn’t invite them to their wedding, and that their invitations were “lost in the mail”. I made a conscious effort to tell her mom & boyfriend that we decided to have a small wedding in a short period of time, and that they were all invited if they could trek 6 hours to MA. Her boyfriend was excited and jokingly agreed to attend the ceremony in drag. (I love this guy!)

My point of this story is: the reason why the people in our lives, relatives as well as friends, who didn’t get an invitation to our ceremony in MA, is because we understand that 6 hours by car is a lot for some people (not mentioning the cost of gas), and that it was such a short notice to go on. We didn’t want to put anyone out. We just want a small ceremony and dinner and drinks with our friends and family who are able to attend. Back in New York, we will be having the “reception” part of it. No formalities here---we will invite you over the phone or through email.

My mother was gracious enough to present me with her bridal veil that she wore when she was 19 years old walking down the aisle to wed my father. To me, it’s good luck because they’re still married after 50 years. Even if I do pick out a flaming red dress, I will be sure to wear my mom’s veil on my special day. If I wear a red dress, I will be holding white flowers. If I wear a white dress, I will be holding red flowers. I’m thinking non-traditional at this point and going with the red dress, white veil along with white roses or flowers. My sister Dawn already has my color scheme and make up planned out for me: fake eyelashes, pale foundation along with bright red lipstick. (I’m glad she left out the fake mole.)

And no, Madelene will not be wearing a tuxedo. Bridezilla will make sure of this.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

"The Transbian"

When a “woman” crosses over to change her sex there is almost a statistical certainty that she will want or have the same sexual partner orientation that she had in her prior sex. That is to say that someone who is heterosexual will be heterosexual after a sex change. Someone who is homosexual will be homosexual after a sex change.

This seems confusing at first glance, except for the concept that sex change and sexual partner orientation are two distinct parts of a human psycho relational issue with either themselves or with others. Sexual Identity is the Transsexual issue and leads to a sex change. This has near no affect on an individual’s sexual partner orientation.

If a man relates sexually to the opposite sex then when crossed over to being a female she will desire men. If he had same sex relations, when she crosses over; she will likely then be lesbian. This is statistically held in about 90-95 percent of study groups. There are exceptions of course, and there are intermediate levels of bisexuality and rainbow or queer preferences. Now a new young generational identity is simply not allowing any sex identity into socialization practices, sexual partner orientation or even Self Identity. The thoughts of “GAY” or like hormone attraction do not add up or even factor in. When a woman has crossed over in a sex reassignment surgery her “new” sexual organ becomes the most important part of her sexual relations. Possibly, before surgery, some transsexuals may come to “hate” their birth sexual organ. There is time for some others when it is simply the idea of her sexual partner orientation that brings feelings of intense need to have the “correct” organ for that moment. That time when she can drop her knickers and share the feeling of simply being with her partner in her own body.

Her feelings are independent of any sexual partner. Genetic lesbians, able to respect the “new” woman as an equal in body and soul, in physique and psyche, her sensual arousals, and intimate feelings; are truly accepting a transsexual as always being a woman. This is a simple fact. The complicated fact is that it is much harder for most to conceive and to put into practice - the essence is individual identity and “security” in one’s own feelings.

A “secure” woman – lesbian or hetero, or a “secure” man, gay or hetero does not have sexual identity or partner issues. They are far from questioning another’s choice, or need to live life in the way they need to live it. They simply are, - without thought or verification, or discrimination. A transsexual woman actually has no choice in her sex Identity. She pretty much also has little “choice” in her feelings about a sexual partner. It is identical to a genetic female’s feeling of “being” lesbian or hetero or whatever. The transsexual will feel identically “lesbian” etc. The thought of her as ”different” - a transbian - is discriminatory, and misogynistic in the perception of her as a man with a woman’s body. This is so far from the truth, that it could not be more obvious. She could only want her female body because of being a woman in the first place and in the first person. She is not a transbian. She is simply as true a lesbian as a genetic woman.

Patricia L Gardner: 08-01-08
-------------------------------
Patty,

Thank you so much for explaining the process in full detail. A lot of people don’t understand the difference between sexual orientation vs. identity. I’m so grateful that you’re so open and willing to make us understand the complexities of something that has been hushed up for so long, yet has been around since forever.

I’m glad you are apart of my family & life. You are truly a blessing to me!

Love,
Deb

Monday, August 04, 2008

Gay Christianity - My First Video

This is my very first video I made which deals with the hatred of many Christian fundamentalists towards homosexuals. How can another Christian with so much love for God hate another human being for being who they are? I tackled this topic more than a gazillion times. I just wanted to post this video back up in case my new blogging friends haven’t seen it. It was lost in another account and deleted by someone who had hatred in her heart as well.
(The text in the video may appear too small. I apologize, it was my first run with iMovie.)

Saturday, August 02, 2008

Cawfee Tawk

My morning started as I clumsily shuffled my way through the living room to make it into the kitchen. With one eye opened and one eye closed, I tried the best I could to scoop the coffee grinds out of the can and into the coffee maker. It didn’t go too well. I now have a trail of grinds everywhere but inside the machine. I attempted to make breakfast for Madelene. We prefer egg whites, so I made an egg white omelet. Cracking the eggs was the easy part, however trying to get the yolk to stay inside was another story. Twice, the yolk fell onto my foot, leaving a sticky yellowy mess. Not a good morning as you can see. Madelene woke up to the sounds of obscenities coming out from the kitchen area.

It’s Saturday morning. Her most challenging days at work are on Saturdays. I try the best I can to wake up before her, make her breakfast, prepare her lunch and sit down and talk to her. She always insists that I sleep in a little, but I want to spend time with her before her workday starts. I want to spend time with her before I’m 8 hours without her. I told her that I do this selfishly because I love her. It’s all about me.

There are days where I’m home all day and she’s working-- yet she’ll go to the store and pick a few things up when I’m able to do that myself. She says she likes doing that because she knows it makes me happy. She does it because she loves me.

Where is this mushy bullshit going you ask?

Love. It’s not only a feeling you have: it’s actions applied to those feelings. It’s knowing that you would do absolutely anything for that person even if it killed you. Love is knowing and understanding all negative circumstances and root causes of bad moods. I’m not trying to compete with how Corinthians defines love, however it’s right on the money. There is no jealousy or bitterness. If so, those issues need to be addressed immediately. It’s complete forgiveness if one is offended or hurt. It’s always knowing that the person who stands right in front of you that you’re in love with, loves you more than you love them. Don’t take that last sentence literally----it’s demonstrating that there is no doubt in your mind that your significant other adores the hell outa’ you. Everyone needs reassurance.

There was a time back in 2000 where Madelene and I were eating at a local restaurant not talking to one another because we had unresolved issues. I looked over at an elderly couple at the next table over. I listened their conversation. From what I got out of it: they’ve been married for over 50 years, raised a few kids and have many grandchildren. There were absolutely no breaks in their conversation. They never ran out of things to say to one another. They laughed and joked around and apparently----enjoyed one another. I felt one of the 7 deadly sins: envy. I absolutely envied these two people for sticking it out and enjoying every single moment of their relationship right into their golden years. How rare!

Ever since Madelene and I have resolved our past issues, as all relationships go through, there is nothing in the gray area anymore. Everything is completely out in the open. As a result, I finally got what I envied: having my best friend for a partner. We’re yip-yapping from the early morning hours until late in the evening right before we close our eyes to go to bed. Another fringe benefit of having everything out in the open is that the sex only gets better. (Too much info probably), but when everything is completely released where there is nothing but raw honesty, the final result is a happy and healthy relationship. Is it perfect? By all means, no. Does it make us both happy? I can only speak for myself, but I have never been happier for such a depressed sap that I usually am.

So instead, Madelene and I had a good laugh at the mess I created in the kitchen and the yellow remains of the yolk still left on my foot. She left to go to work with a smile on her face because of her silly partner who put forth excruciating effort to get those egg whites on the dining room table by 7am.

And that’s proof of my love.