A publisher friend and I are in the process of defining and developing my “brand”, the what and wherewithal, the keynote to the wondrousness that is me. Or more to the point, who I am in a sentence or less. My foundation, my Miss America platform. The purpose, promise and image.
We agree what I’m not, that being anything “Sex and the City”-like. I’d rather have a cheese grater bikini wax followed by a lemon juice bath. The goal isn’t the ring or the man (truth told, I find SATC a rather backwards, male fantasy of American feminism.)
I’m pop culture, absolutely; the blog is sick with it. I shy away from the “fat like me” only label, seems like an easy gimme. Besides, both Stephanie Klein and Jen Lancaster (as well as loads and loads of women) have already tread that treadmill – Klein telling tales of growing up fat, Lancaster facing an adult love of cheese to drop 50 pounds and gain a third book proposal (she never gives up her numbers, however, a big WTF? in her memoir.) Both tempted and trepidatious to explore sexuality, the fervor and gusto and joy after a lifetime of hiding under layers, liberally sprinkled with pathos, cheeky observation, self-doubt and self-love. Power to the pussy, right on, but that’s a box one could become easily trapped in.
Am I a “tardy juvenile” (a term quickly eschewed by the publisher friend who wants to go deeper, more soulful.) An ode to ladies in their 40’s, enjoying the spoils (and dealing with the occasional the bed’s-to-big-without-you lonely) of running the other way from the ring and the pacifier?
Am I simply a boy crazy girl in a woman’s space? Am I panting after true love or simple male energy, a cadre of man friends to drink and commiserate about the opposite sex with, to show me how to use power tools and whose masculine scent I can breathe platonically in a sex and romance draught. Men energize me, and the flirty girl persona has gotten in the way when lust for life is taken as merely salacious (which, considering long-time invisibility to and fear of the opposite sex is both amusing and ego boosting.)
Sometimes the best F is simply Friends.