Let’s be honest, 2006 was a shit year: Shit, shit, shitty.
Like most people, in past years I followed the standard script and made the usual January resolutions — ones like adding more flax to my diet and working out. And as a good member of society, I would talk a good talk and then make the requisite symbolic but ineffective efforts. But this year, I undertook a self-improvement project of considerable magnitude.
I know it’s been 2007 for a while now, but a key component of goal setting is ongoing evaluation and review of the uncompleted items. Just even knowing this shit, shows you that I was serious this year.
So, while the rest of you may have forgotten your New Year’s resolutions, I sure haven’t, and halfway through the year is the ideal time to check in to see if I’m still on track with my ’07 intentions.
So here’s the background: To ensure that this year wasn’t going to be some repackaged regurgitation of the last six years, I made a Major Decision in January to shake things up — to rebirth myself into the person I knew was there deep inside me: a Funky Urban Queer Grrrl.
Who is a FUQG you ask? Well, that is the projective test of the year. She’s the cool grrrl at the office who speaks her mind, knows what she wants, is well read with good politics, independent, comfortable with her sexuality, has nice shoes, is non-conformist and sexy — definitely sexy.
She’s the kind of grrrl who has a Costco-sized tub of lube beside her bed (with a pump!) that she doesn’t hide when guests come over because she’s just so comfortable with herself.
Sidebar: I once had a one-night stand with a grrrl with warehouse-sized lube. I was barely able to enjoy myself because I lay there obsessing about how many years it had taken me to get through a regular-sized bottle of lube and judging myself for my low lube usage.
In addition, I began doing calculations of how much money I could be saving if I also bought lube by the gallon. You really know you’ve got Issues with a capital I when a tub of lube sends you into a neurotic tailspin. The only thing that thankfully snapped me out of my inner freak-out was the new sight of the enormous cock she pulled out — but that is another story.
Rebirthing is the only choice you have when faced with major life crises, angst and a new awareness that you keep repeating the same fucking patterns over and over again.
And when I say rebirthing, I don’t mean some lame Hollywood marketing gimmick that involves getting a trainer, spray-on tan and new tits. I’m talking about full-scale, born-again, witness relocation; resurrecting the dead, write a tell-all schmaltzy book about my “journey” kind of rebirthing.
This kind of reincarnation is fuelled by $2,000 worth of therapy and every self-help book ever written. I’m a neurotic, over-self-analyzing kind of person so this process fits with me. I wouldn’t recommend it to everyone though.
The only way to begin this type of self-project is to write a list. I love writing lists and firmly believe that they are the crux of project success. The goal-setting literature supports me on this one.
But before beginning the steps of rebirthing to queer grrrldom, I had to be certain that she was truly inside me. This was a necessary pre-contemplative step, akin to acknowledging one’s problem with drinking before being able to get help.
Drinking doesn’t hurt when rebirthing, but what is really helpful is having a superlative ability to intellectualise. This comes in particular handy when obsessing about one’s sexual orientation and needing to confirm that I am “truly” queer.
This process manifests itself as the search and discovery of past, previously missed, signs that I have been a gay grrrl all along — unbeknownst to me.
Bottles of red wine and evenings of solitary self-analysis also help to produce beneficial, confirmatory insights. For example: my first vibrator, bought in my 20s, was built for two — clearly a sign that I was queer. And shit, now that I think of it, I did have two Barbies and no Ken dolls growing up. That must mean something?
And finally, as my friend recently pointed out, throwing a tantrum because my toddler nephew’s Bob the Builder white underwear with red edging doesn’t come in my size was the conclusive flashing sign that I am not the straighty-straight gal I thought I was.
So here is my custom 12-step program to rebirth and fully embrace my funky urban queer self. You’ll have to create your own list — everyone’s journey is unique and valid. At least that’s what I got from all those self-help books.
With this new to-do list I can monitor my coming out progress and check off completed steps with satisfaction. The rebirthing thing follows a logical progression of shedding one’s previous life and a makeover into the new.
My 12 steps flow as follows:
1. Leave husband and previous straight life (check)
2. Get funky new hairdo enabling slight obsession with hair products (check)
3. Move to new city where I am completely anonymous (check)
4. Visit local queer-friendly sex shop to purchase toys for liberated and empowering sexploration sessions on solitary evenings (check)
5. Tell well-intentioned suburban straight friends that I do not want to join scrap-booking clubs to meet women (check)
6. Make fabulous new queer friends and resist shagging fab friends before discerning whether they will fall into friend or lover category (pending)
7. Read The Ethical Slut, The Topping Book, The Bottoming Book (check x 3) and attend scary girl sex party to free myself from past conventional chains of sexuality and embrace new polyamorous lifestyle more befitting of funky urban queer grrrl (pending)
8. Write and set up profile on Superdyke (pending)
9. Purchase fabulous new red Fluevog boots (check — thank fucking puppies for credit cards)
10. Program dirty words into cell phone dictionary to expedite anticipated flirty texting sessions with other grrrls (check)
11. Take friend’s advice and throw out all old, daggy underwear, replacing with ultra-hip and sexy undies sure to impress new laydee friends (check)
12. Reassure self that wanting Bob the Builder undies is perfectly normal (check)
With my rebirthing steps clarified and some already actioned, I am confident that my identity shift is well under way and that my counselling budget can be reduced to $1,000 for the remainder of this financial year.
In addition, the epiphanic realisation that I am blessed with an opportunity that few are given — to live the rest of my life as a different person — will surely help to prevent another year of heartbreak, confusion, and battles with moving companies, thus completing another resolution of 2007.
The very worst that can happen is I end up with a drawer full of hair styling products, a closet full of cool shoes, and yeah, even more sex toys — for sharing or not. Anyone know if Costco sells big tubs of lube?