it's a girl! (heavens, oh my!)

sometimes, i do enjoy being a girl. i love the swish of the skirt, the shine of the talon, the potions we get for softening and perfuming our skin. the warpaint and the shiny baubles, the warlike heels and the saucy flats, the shine and the shimmer and the sparkle and the glow and the flounce. the coquette in me is enraptured by these things.

these are the things that little girls get. and when we grow up to be women, we learn how to appreciate their fullest potential. and their pleasure.

i get a certain thrill out of decking myself out in my full girly regalia. there's a pleasure in the ritual, a sort of grounding that i occasionally lose when tramping through the streets of new york, battle armor in place. i lose touch with this body as a feminine entity, with its softness and its curves, replacing it with the protection offered by the self-perception of a warrior, not a woman. because you have to in the real world, lest people target you as prey in your girliness.

and wearing that face gets a little old. not just because i don't like having my world avatar be reactionary, but because, quite frankly, i like the mantle of femininity.

but i digress.

i enjoy the ritual that brings me back to girl, from fixing my hair to painting my nails, to selecting the clothing and the scent i want to leave behind me tonight.

i enjoy it on my own behalf. i do it for myself.

though i will confess to a small twinge of pleasure when these preparations go observed by the object of desire. as in any other endeavor, while the action may frequently be done for its own sake, or the personal pleasure of simply doing it, there is always a bit of satisfaction in having a fan.