How Girly Are You?

About two or so months ago, I reluctantly brought my car to the body shop for some work. If you live in LA, your car is a part of you. And just like anyone who lives here knows, it will grab some battle wounds from time to time. (You and your car... just saying.)

But this is LA, and getting around without one leaves someone feeling a little bit dumb founded.

In my pursuit to always "figure it out", instead of renting one and spending more money... I decided to bus it all over town.

"I can figure this shit out!" was my mentality. It's so easy to throw money at the problem (or any for that matter), but why don't we use our brain instead of our bank account.

Now the running around and the back packing started out fun. But time wore on, the shop lied about when my car would be ready, my body grew tired of its new routine, and preplanning everything simply got annoying.

On one day during this time, a close friend was having a birthday. Which normally I wouldn't spare the extra energy (cause I was using so much of it everywhere else), but his party was going to be at a spot at the base of my street (and I happen to love this person... so fuck it.)

Great! I'll take the bus home, quick run home and change, and then head down the street. Done and done.

Well the day ran long, my shift at work did as well, the bus was running later then I had thought, and now once I got to the location (still in my work clothes because I didn't want to miss them nor did I have the energy to "run" home and throw on my party outfit) the crew has moved a little bit further down the road to another location. And nothing has gone to my mental plan.

Enter internal hissy fit. Starting in 3, 2, 1.....

While waiting for the next bus to get me the mere minutes down the street... I started a mild panic attack/freak out that only comes from feeling so out of it and exhausted that you regret your clothing choice, you think you might be hungry, you can't believe you say yes to so many people, and you think you might turn around and walk home and say fuck this, and run into bed without washing your face.

Then the bus came. And I got on it.

After sitting there for 5 mins I began to calm myself down. Upon arriving, seeing the face of a person I love so happy to see me.... My own mental bullshit is out the window.

He and all his buddies are wearing jeans and t-shirt, and it doesn't matter what any of us look like because we're there for someone we adore.

"Lauren... what the fuck does this have to do with being girly?"

Hold on, I'm getting there.

My good friend is Gay, and he is also sober. For many of our outings, he plans the best days ever. Trampoline parks, scavenger hunts, escape rooms... you name it, he finds it. So meeting up with him and his buddies (who I've met during the other activities) at a bar didn't seem like the usual but he wanted to dance, so there we were.

After the "omg it so good to see you" and the "how have you been", I decided to grab a drink for me and a water for the birthday boy and be so thankful to be there. Cause now I truly was.

I don't know if we can blame the alcohol, but some words started to come out.

Not mine, someone else's.

A friend of my friend started to shower me with compliments. "You're so amazing" "I've looked forward to seeing you again" "You're so smart and funny" and so on and so forth.

This is never a bad thing to hear even on your worst days.

With all this showering of adornment, one might think you could get a big head. But no no... this was a set up in my tired, weak state I didn't see coming.

Him: "You're so amazing and why aren't you with anyone?"

Me: "You know to be honest, I don't think I always think through the people I like. Not even crushes. So I haven't been giving the universe the full message so it doesn't even know what to send me."

(Fair enough honest answer right? I thought so. And completely true.)

This was not enough for this man in front of me.

Him: "You know I was married once to a beautiful woman and we have two beautiful kids."

Me: "I didn't know that?! I would love to see your kids. Are you still close with their mom?"

Him: "Oh yes I'm still very close with her."

Me: "As a product of divorced parents, that's so good to hear."

Him: "You know what attracted me to her?"

Me: "What was that?"

Him: "She knew how to dress like a woman."

Me: "That's beautiful."

Him: "You're such a beautiful woman, you should dress more like one."

That, there it is, is the worst thing you could say to someone who's in my state at that moment.

I seriously was in shock. As I stood in the middle of a gay bar in Weho with a drink, and my black leggings, combat boots, and back pack hugged my body... this wasn't my best look, but I didn't look like a hobo (not even a hipster.)

I didn't offer any excuse for my clothing choice, I didn't give him any sass, I didn't even begin to entertain the words that just came out of the mouth of this person (whether gay/straight, male/female or what not). 

I simply drank my drink, gave a half smile, and turned to the birthday boy. Started dancing and thought to myself "wow Uniy, another test today." But the music was loud and the dancing was fun. And it dawned on me at the moment but I could say it then.

Ok I can say it here.... WHAT THE FUCK?????!!!!!!

I should dress more like a woman? So I'm not a woman as I stand here with the parts I have between my legs? (Cause two guys on the bus... might have been homeless... thought I was woman enough.)

Ok I'll give up the deets a little more... this man who said this to me is white, and he only has been out for a fews years. 

So there is something hearing what this white man who stands about 6 foot said down to the girl with a top bun and little to no make up on looking up at him as she stands at 5 foot 5.

Let's look at the facts... I just got told by a white man that I'm not enough of a girl to have a man because of the way I am dressed? Is that what you heard... maybe, maybe not. But that's what happened.

Fuck the other amazing qualities I have (that you listed)... Nope! This,  this will finally find me that person who will love me for me.... Yeah.

But... is he trying to help?

I'm sure my manager at work who told me I should wear more makeup because men like that, or my relative who told me men like shorter tighter clothes (when I was asked in high school if I had a boyfriend... which btw performing arts high school doesn't offer a lot of straight guys. Especially in the dance department. Just saying.) 

Shall I just put out more? Or should I update my profile picture? Or maybe I shouldn't open my mouth and talk so much even if its with respect and dignity because men don't like that? (Like the guy I dated who went to Ivy League who liked to let me know I wasn't as smart as him with every comment he made. I broke it off after he tried to make me feel dumb when I said Van Morrison is from Ireland. He laughed at me and then said "Oh no honey." I screen shot the Wiki, sent it to him, and told him to never call me again.)

Listen... I'm gonna say this... and I know this, because I have made this mistake myself....

Just because you dress the "part" doesn't mean you got the goods. It just means, you know how to dress for the part.

When I was dancing in Vegas as a Go Go, many girls would show up for gigs. Body Glitter, Boots with the Fur, False Lashes, Accessories. Me... my outfit, Black bra, Black boots, Black bottoms, and a watch so I could see when my shift was done. All these other girls, they didn't keep the job. Who do you think kept those gigs.... that's right me.

Why?

Cause I could dance. Yeah, I'm that girl.

I wear black, my home has dark furniture, my dad knew what my next color car would be (black), my hair is blonde and I dye it dark, I like boots, but I also know the right heel to wear with every outfit... I cook, and while I cook I play Hip-Hop/Jazz (Instrumental), I clean my own home, I only do Barre and Yoga work outs (I don't like tough gyms), I've dance half naked for years (and when I leave the spot I wear baggy pants to not get attention... for safety!!!!), I like a top bun when I don't want to do my hair, anyone who knows me knows I can curl my hair perfectly.... I don't like to wear make up, but when I do I do it well... I don't like tight clothes on my days off, and I love slip on vans as much as I would love to buy the entire new line of Alexander Wang.... 

I'm a fucking Girl!

I look around at all the things I like... the sky at dusk, yellow flowers, Lululemon leggings, Chuck Taylors and Leather Jackets... Horror films, and Scorsese's Pictures.

I love Black and White photos of old Hollywood, and next to it a want the Mug Shots of all the Genovese Family.

I have many tattoos, and always have a candle burning in my home while I'm there. I get called go play a feminine fairy and sword waving warrior in the same day.

I still don't know what it means... to dress more like a woman, while I'm standing in a part of town that has fought for their right to be who they are.... But I do know how good I feel to be a girl and to be a woman.

I love the choice I have now to not be dressed for a man, I love the choice now that I have to not have to have the letters MS before my name, I love the choice I have now to do whatever I want with my days for me, I love the choice I have now to be in the kitchen and in the work force because I so choose to. I love the choice now to get out of the corset or back into one if I so please.

I love the choice as a girl (as so many girls have fought before me... and for me!) to be whatever girl I want. 

To be a girl, is to be whatever you choose to be. 

Not for another person, another woman, another man... For you!

If you love pink and heels everyday... you fucking wear pink and heels every day.

If you love flowers and bunnies... I hope that shit fills your home.

Whatever you like (even if its not in my own space) I truly hope you have it.

And if you're a man who wake's up in your Mid 40's, and decides he doesn't want to look at a Vagina anymore (even the one who bore your kids), and you want to look at more Penis... I so hope you do. Respectfully get what you want.

And if one day, you get that... and you meet a young woman (a girl) who is bright, fun, funny, and beautiful who's met up with someone for their birthday... and you tell them all this... I want you to know, she knows she's more then enough of a woman... with or without the bow.

All my love to you all, 

LP

P.s. Clearly he hasn't seen my half naked ass on this site... Clearly.