Bootsandheels...My blogs, and poetry

[Bootsandheels]

“So if your husband gave this to you would you like it?” He asked me…as he held the small diamond engagement set in his nervous rough skinned fingers.
I answered very sincerely…”I would be over the moon if he brought this home for me!” He smiled a little smirk of a smile and seemed visibly relieved and quite pleased with himself. I marveled how easy it was for me to answer like I was this straight woman that was waiting on him in my new holiday job at a retail jewelry store.

Ah…my invisibility cloak becomes useful and necessary once again!
I have learned over the years how to use it wisely now, when to bring it out to protect myself or my sexuality when I don’t feel like going through the long involved process of describing “Femme” to people when all they will really hear is “Lipstick Lesbian” or when I need to fit in like the chameleon I get to be as a very straight appearing queer femme as I like to call myself.

It used to be so painful and frustrating at first when I came out 14 years ago.
I wanted so badly to be SEEN by my own community and they just…couldn’t and sometimes even when they knew I was out…wouldn’t acknowledge me for who and what I had worked so damn hard to become and just be. Didn’t they know I what I had given up? My son, got divorced, lost a 9 year job, lost my dog…the list goes on but it was worth every single loss to find myself…and my true essence as FEMME.

It’s not so frustrating now because I get it…and I know exactly how to work it…this incredible gift I’ve been given as an invisible femme.
I can be anyone I damn well please. I can fit in when I need to, and I can surprise the hell out of cute butches that I may come across or work with and make them feel special by saying…”Wow it’s great to know family works here” or my personal favorite…”Nice to see a butch working here” as I sashay away knowing their mouth is hanging open behind me LOL.

I have also been able to protect my own butch when needed and soften a hard glare or two that is directed at us both. It’s a powerful gift and a tool that I do not take for granted or use lightly.

I thought what a great job…like a lot of femmes, I love sparkly things and I happen to know quite a bit about diamonds courtesy of my grandma Hallie who was married 3 or 4 times and from the time I was 6 taught me all about her many rings and things she had acquired all over the world. She loved them as if they were her kids.

I’ve been learning far more about diamonds and gems in my new job this past week and I am struck by the synchronicity of it all. I’ve always felt that we as humans are diamonds in the rough and that our life lessons, our experiences especially the most painful ones are often the facets that we endure to sparkle and shine. It’s the cuts that make us…the facets that shape us into the true brilliance, fire and sparkle that we have naturally within all of us, that show the true essence of who we REALLY are.

I rang the young man’s precious purchase up at the register and handed him the little bag with the tissue paper just so and placed it in his hands reverently. He gave me the biggest smile ever and I couldn’t help myself…I sparkled back at him. I gushed “Happy Holidays!” and covered my mouth with both hands and giggled…imagining him…imagining her…and their moment on Christmas morning. Love is love is LOVE. Sparkle on you beautiful diamond...

[Bootsandheels]

*Bump* for those who have been waiting for the next one...and thank you for all the rep and sweet comments!

[Bootsandheels]

My gorgeous femme bi tango instructor starts the lesson “It’s your connection...to the floor, to your body and to your partner…

I have always wanted to try tango and I finally did this spring with a queer tango class. I was bitten by the tango bug and signed up for more-this time a mixed class with fear and trepidation of having to dance with men.

It’s been a lonnnnng ass time since I’ve been in man space and I seriously was not sure how I would handle it, like it or how I would feel. Just the thought of having to be that close to them, smelling them, dancing virtually cheek to cheek…omg.
I was almost hyperventilating and looking for the ladies’ room.

Don’t get me wrong…I do like men, mostly gay men and they are whom I have spent most of my life dancing with as a former ballerina and teacher. It’s the straight ones I am not so sure I’d really like to be around much, but in the tango world everybody dances with everybody-at least in a tango class setting.

I realized that I wouldn’t be recognized as a FEMME. I would be seen as just another straight woman learning tango in the room because of how I look and present. I was not in the comfort of a queer tango class which Seattle is blessed to offer and where I can at least be seen for one hour a week by my community.

I was in the straight zone, learning and dancing with straight men AND women…and I had to get over myself right quick if I was going to be serious about learning this amazingly beautiful, intimate, sensuous dance called tango.

So besides loving the art form…loving dance and being a pretty good dancer, I asked myself what the "F" am I doing here anyway? To say I was uncomfortable was an understatement.

Connection? To whaaa? (floor…my body…my partner)

Oh…it gets better.

You see in tango…you start by looking at someone’s eyes as a check in to see if they WANT to dance with you…and you want to dance with them.
(ok…butch across a crowded room we spy each other… connection…check. I can relate… just hold that image!) Breathe…move!

Then the embrace…
You meet, a hand is offered and you decide on how close you will be dancing together…open embrace (arms wide holding forearms only), semi-open (hand on shoulder and waist but no close body embrace) or closed (full on embrace torso against torso) oh god just take me now…


“Tango is about the connection…to the floor, to yourself and to your partner” she says again.
After the first coed classes I realized this was why I was so damn uncomfortable. I had to dance heart to heart with most of the people in the class and it was not easy. Yet this was exactly why I needed to be here…to break open my heart and feel again after much heartbreak and disappointment.

I needed to touch and be touched and learn to open my heart again. I needed to let down the moat and break down the castle walls that I had built up over the past few years if I was ever going to love someone again…and make sure I could actually do it.

I would go home and cry after class and show up the next week and begin again…floor…myself…my partner…connection…connect…breathe…connect…MOVE…
Let go…relax…so he’s a straight guy…if you can do this you can do anything!
“Beautiful walk!” she complimented me…I thought it was just the fact that I got to wear heels and dance but I was…finally…finally getting it.

Connection…to the floor, (ground myself and feel it)
Connection…to myself (open my heart hear it beating and feel it)
Connection…to your partner (get ready to feel it again-a new partner is coming).

The walls have crumbled down revealing my beautiful femme heart is still alive and well and tango has given me a gift…Hope.

[Bootsandheels]

*Bump* for the fans...new one! 💃

[Bootsandheels]

Last *Bump* for the new one...

[Bootsandheels]

Wally World

I’m calling it “PPSA” Post Pandemic Social Awkwardness. You know what I mean…It’s real. It’s a thing and it’s so damn hard to navigate!

We have been changed forever by the pandemic. We have lost so many and lost so much. We have also lost and hopefully are beginning to find ourselves again. That’s how I feel at least. I have been struggling to figure out who the hell I am now in this post pandemic world. Some things haven’t and won’t change, but so much has. It had to.

To me, it’s like the pandemic held up an enormous mirror-it revealed a lot. A lot that we really did not want to see- about ourselves, our world, everything. This mirror will not come down now, and it will continue to reveal truths that are uncomfortable but so very important for us to learn.

Moving back home to MT after a 33 year hiatus in the PNW was a huge thing, but moving into my parent’s home to help take care of my Dad who almost died the same week the pandemic hit was a total tsumnami.

Thankfully, he has recovered and while he’s only going to continue to decline, he still has some good time left. This is why I’m here, this is my role right now…helpful loving part-time caregiving daughter.

Good…step one.

Step two…learn how to talk and be around people again in a socially appropriate coherent and effective way.

Have you found yourself so damn excited to talk to some random stranger now that you actually can that you don’t realize you’re starting to ramble or talking wayyyy too fast or just a little too much? Yep…there it is…PPSA.

Some folks get it and it’s funny…not many do but I’m so grateful for the few that do. Those who don’t I have found just basically ignore me or slowly back away and disappear like I am some crazy cat lady who didn’t get out much even before the pandemic hit.

Relearning social cues and nuances is hard work! Often I find myself just slipping back into the comfort of incognito silent observant mode without the benefit of the mask.

I also realized the other day while perusing the wonderful world of Walmart that I had suddenly become unusually and uncharacteristically…shy. Again…sans mask. WTH? I have always been able to talk to anyone and am not shy and love people thank you very much. You need a greeter? A hostess with the mostess? I’m your femme baby. WTF happened to me during this pandemic? PPSA that’s what!

I was barely in the door of the store doing a slow roll with the cart I really didn’t want when I saw her. She was walking in front of me about 100 ft away or so. Her tall athletic frame was casually dressed in jeans, boots and T-shirt, black banded watch on her tan wrist. Her hair was shoulder length, straight and a beautiful shade of gray fox. She looked like many of the hard working practical ranch wives that permeate my Montana town. However…she had a bit of a swagger, that “get the fuck outta my way I’m getting shit done” kind of walk…you know the one. I love that hard earned strength and no nonsense “Don’t-give-a-shit-what-you think” attitude. It’s so.damn.hot.

But…was she? Probably not…Maybe? Should I go up and say something nice about her hair? Oh shit…nope just don’t…you’ve got PPSA so bad-don’t embarrass yourself or her…but life is short…go do it! No…I can’t I might make a complete ass of myself. How many women do you see like her? Omg…the litany of conversation I had with my invisible femme self was ridiculous. Where did my femme self go? I’ve had to hide her here-we’re not in Seattle anymore! Where the hell was my strut? I could still do it in my sandals couldn’t I? Is it safe to let her out to play? OMG…annnnnnd she was checked out and gone before I could say Damn.

Let’s talk about what cis women are like here in Montana and why it’s so damn hard to tell who might actually be any kind of lesbian or queer identifying person at all-especially if you are in my 50+ age bracket.

The Butchest looking women are typically the extremely straight ranch wives walking alongside their cowboy/rancher/redneck type husband or male partner. Truth.

Now, I don’t know for 100% certainty that they are NOT queer-that’s true, but 9 times out of 10 they are straight as an arrow. I was raised here, and things have not changed that much!

When I did run across a lesbian married couple last year, I asked them what was up in this town with the lesbian community. I said “Do they hide here?’ and she immediately said “Yes”. It’s just too conservative and redneck for most to feel safe. Most are younger married couples with kids and they stick to themselves. Even though we are in a fairly liberal college town, my community is in hiding. I’m an invisible femme…my local community is in hiding. Great.

So online I go…to find anyone queer identifying to just meet up for coffee or perhaps go hiking. I have been hit on by 20-30 yr old somethings who are “Bi-curious” and want experiences with a mature experienced lesbian. *Cue dry heaves. Sigh…I will continue to try to find some family here as I will need to stay here until my Dad passes I think.

I am a PPSA femme in a dry mountain non-gay desert. Somebody please (A butch preferably) throw me sparkly pink life preserver and tell me It will get better?!

Boots



PS...I never ever want to offend anyone in our community with my writings and strive to always be inclusive and sensitive to everyone here. If there is anything I need to change or learn about or consider please let me know. My door is open and I'm always interested in learning and becoming the best person and femme I can be. I'm an OSOF Femme of a certain vintage age but I always strive to be up to date, sensitive and honor everyone as much as possible!

[Stone-Butch]

Tosses out a sparkly pink life preserver with a smile that says "things are going to be just fine". All we have to do is make more lemonade. Pardon me for intruding on you thread. I hate a lady in distress.