Several thought trains collided in my head today;
1) I've been reading
dbubley's recent posts about being a fat
dyke and what that has meant in her life and her body
2)
sogwife is selling some of her jewelry, which made me think
to wear the necklace she made me, which made me think to dress up today,
which made me feel pretty
3) I'm reading
a
book that has some passing commentary about gay bear culture and how
getting fat is letting oneself go and get unattractive
So I was walking across Sproul Plaza this morning, feeling pretty, when it
suddenly dawned on me that to a lot of people who see me every day, the
fact that I'm fat means I'm *automatically* not pretty. I actually
stopped in my tracks for a second.
Then I laughed and kept walking.
I felt pure joy for a minute, because I think my "ugliness" is kind of
funny, probably because I think it's imaginary, artificial, Man-made (as
in The Man), and So. Not. About. Me.
Life is good.