How To Not Be Scary

I'm back! I just sat here for a few minutes and tried to figure out why I've had so much time to update my blog lately... It's this sickness that won't go away. I would really, really, really like to go for a run - but I can't. I tried. I made it about ten steps. This is why I can't focus on my homework. And why I'm so grumpy. And why PMS is hitting me so much harder than normal. I've been bat-shit crazy all day long. By the way, who made that the standard phrase for people who are absolutely insane?

I've been saying for awhile that I was going to have my hair cut into a faux-hawk. Well... I did it today. My friend Audra did it, rather. She did a great job, it's fun, and it looks great! But I'm going to have to get used to it. Mostly, I'm thinking about a promise I made to myself back when I was a baby lesbian. Before I knew anything about how I'd want to look and act when I got comfortable with myself. I made a mental list of things I'd never do because I didn't want to become too butch...butch ladies scared me.

So, here it is. A sampling of my rules for how to not be a scary, dykey, butchy lesbian.

1. Never allow khaki cargo shorts to become a staple in your wardrobe.
2. Do not purchase a Harley Davidson. Or wear a Harley bandana on your head.
3. Only wear sporty sunglasses when playing sports.
4. Refuse to wear thick leather AE flip-flops.
5. Stick with women's hygiene products because it's ok to smell like a girl.
6. Collars should never, ever be popped.
7. Don't walk around with a toothpick in your mouth.
8. Be, at the very least, cordial to men.
9. Avoid wallet chains and boxers.
And finally...
10. Never get the Classic Lesbian Cut. Visual aide:

You guys, this is the haircut I got today. Except my hair is standing up.

So I've broken a few of my rules. This wouldn't bother me at all, except... today was the beginning of a very emotional time of the month and when I used the restroom at the grocery store after my appointment, there were a few kids around 10 years old. Once I closed the stall door I heard, "ohmygod did you see that girl?! she looked so much like a boy! disgusting!!!"

And it didn't hurt my feelings. Kids say shit like that all the time - they're honest. When compared to other lesbians my appearance isn't shocking, but compared to the female population as a whole I look pretty boyish. Whatever. What that little brat said, though... I was convicted. I've been keeping this list in my head of things that cross some sort of masculinity line. What is wrong with me?! I know women who break these "rules" and they're sweet, kind people. Operative word being people. People who've had to deal with the same - if not worse - challenges I've struggled with. People who just want to be themselves and be left alone. I've felt like such an asshole all afternoon.

So I just wanted to get that off my chest. I'm judgmental sometimes and it's terrible and I'm genuinely sorry. I'm working on it. I have a new mantra, which will not only remind me to judge not, but also to quit stressing about everything. Every morning I'll look in the mirror and say, Natali. Get the hell over yourself. Can you imagine how much happier we'd be if we just got over all the little crap in life?

Oh, yeah. One more thing. Some girl sent me a message today because she thinks I'm a boy and wants to date me. I wonder if she'd have a good sense of humor about it if I met her for coffee?

:::EDIT:::

Maggie requested a picture. Here you go, friend...

I Can't Remember What I Did Last Night

I had to call in yesterday. I was chugging Dayquil, throwing back ibuprofen, and chomping cough drops like nobody's business. I really did not want to call in sick less than two weeks into this job. Ugh.

- Hi, it's Natali Estes. I'm not going to make it in tonight.

- Um.... hang on. Let me pull up the schedule. Oh. Yeah, Natalia. Ok.

- I'm really sorry, I've just had a pretty high fever all day.

- It's ok, hon. You're just on orientation anyway. Take care.

So that was great. I'm inconsequential. And it's Natali. If my name were Natalia, I would have said that. The fact that I'm a lowly assistant does not mean I can't pronounce my own damn name.

Obviously, all I want to do when I'm sick is whine. I want somebody to bring me soup and feel sorry for me and run their fingers through my hair and watch a movie with me and not get mad when I gripe about everything. But alas, I'm left to my own devices. I went to Walgreen's for medicine and ended up buying a box of Snickers ice cream bars because I feel terrible and I deserve something good. Right? I know I'm not the only one who does this. I'm going to have to break down and go to the doctor tomorrow. I threw up on the floor. Let me say that again: I threw up. On. The. Floor. And I peed my pants during a particularly long coughing fit. I need help. 

The only reason I'm writing this post is because I need to study for an Anatomy exam and I really don't want to start. Since I'm here though, let's talk about Ambien. I've always had trouble sleeping. I've tried OTC pills, "natural" remedies, meditation, therapist-recommended relaxation techniques... Marijuana actually works really well, but of course that's illegal. And I would never do anything illegal. Anyway. Last year my doctor wrote me a prescription for Ambien. I've taken it five times and freaked the hell out three of those times. Once I thought the paint on my walls was melting and would certainly drown me. Another time I called my friend, crying hysterically, because I thought I was turning into a wolf. 

It also causes short-term memory loss, so I have no recollection. I check my call logs, texts, and browsing history the next morning and attempt to make all the necessary apologies and explanations. Tripped-out Natali is getting tricky, though - last night I deleted all the texts I sent. So if you got one from me between 11 and midnight and thought I was on drugs... you were right. Sorry.

I vaguely remember deciding I should have some ice cream. I walked to the kitchen naked. I'm pretty certain I was high-stepping for some reason. And my head felt like jell-o. I decided if I ever made it back to my bed, I'd never leave. Then - according to my browsing history - I watched YouTube break-dancing tutorials for about an hour. (?!)

Why do I keep taking it, you ask? Here's the thing with me and sleep. I'm like a meth addict. I don't sleep for a couple of days. Then I sleep 3 hours a night for a week or two. Then I don't sleep again for a day. And then? I crash. I crash hard. I can sleep an entire weekend, waking only once a day to pee. So, I use Ambien to make the cycle less drastic. I take one, flip out, then sleep like a rock for 14 hours. It's really unhealthy, potentially habit-forming, and I learned today that it studies have shown it to cause people to have sex in their sleep. I don't like it. 

In conclusion: I'm sick. I'm whiny. I may know how to break-dance soon. And if you have any suggestions on falling asleep, pleeeeeease pass them along.

Dancing. All The Time.

I said I'd post on dancing and dating. And since I'm working on finding my back to being a person of my word (more on that later...), here we go. I think I'll give dating its own post later.

So, dancing. Sara told me last weekend she's going to make me a shirt that says, "Ahhhhhhh, I love dancing." Sadly, I think she was kidding... I would wear it all the time. It's ridiculous how much I love dancing, because I'm terrible at it. I like to dance in the shower, in the club, in my car, at the dinner table when I'm supposed to be sitting still and minding my manners, standing around the pool table at a dive bar where nobody else is dancing. I bob to the music in my head when I'm sitting in class. Last night I caught myself waist-up dancing at the nurse's station while I was charting. I'm shakin' it right now. In fact, I was thinking I might be too tired to go meet my friends tonight... but I'm listening to a playlist entitled "Just Dance" and I think I'm going to have to go.

Since I love lists so much, I think we should make a list of rules for dancing in public.

1. Mind your face. If you don't smirk and laugh while you dance people will think you're serious. And trust me, you're not serious. You're not a good dancer even when you've been drinking. Almost nobody looks good dancing.

2. No slapping your own ass or grabbing your crotch. Even in jest. Just don't.

3. If all you can do is step side to side and bob your head, own it! It's a good idea to have somebody to dance with, though. If you're standing in the middle of the dance floor bobbing your head by yourself, chances are you're also looking around. And that's freaking creepy.

4. Drink something. Sober people are way too stiff.

5. Don't drink too much. Drunks are embarrassing. They also tend to hit on somebody else's girlfriend or make out in front of everybody. Nobody likes this.

Well, those are the five I can think of off the top of my head. I'll be on the lookout for more rules tonight. Do you have any suggestions?

I have to go now... time to fix my hair and put on my new fedora. Oh, and one more note. Regarding the last two rules: it's important to find your formula. For instance, mine is one strong rum and coke then a beer every 1.5 hours. I stay loose and fun but I keep my wits about me. Stir in house music, low lighting, and a good crowd. Happy for hours.