Crosses and Clothes, Faith and Femininity
Just a quick note especially for those of you who graced me by subscribing to this blog, that I will be changing over to a new blog in the near future. My life has moved in directions unforeseen, and this blog title and direction–while both served me very well up to this point and are still very valid reflections of my journey to this point–are no longer accurate reflections of myself going forward.
When I have the new blog in place I will leave a note here so that, should you choose (and I DO hope you will choose to), you may follow me and the chronicles of my continuing journey.
Because my head’s been in a somewhat directionless place for some time, I haven’t been checking this blog for comments. Someone left me a very poorly written one-liner to the effect that God is going to judge me for my words and “hatfullness”. I can only assume they meant “hatefullness”, since I can’t imagine God cares so much about my choice of bonnet. ??
Interestingly, that’s the second comment I’ve received in the past couple of months in this vein. One of my Facebook friends–one of the many I picked up as a result of the time I spent on ChristianWriters–informed me that, because I dared opine that God loves His LGBT(etc.) children, and therefore that people should too, that I was preaching “hate and deceit”. Her words didn’t make me angry. They made me sad, for her.
Yes, I am fully aware that God will judge me in my time, thank you very much. He will also judge each and every one else, including you who tell me so. I am prepared to stand before Him on that day, and accept His judgment of me.
Peace in Shaved Legs
Okay, okay…I know to most of you this is old hat or no big deal, but it was a huge deal to me. Altering my appearance was a big cause for anxiety for my ex (with whom I still live, remember), so during the summer months especially, when shorts and trips to the oceanside were likely, I held off.
But the hair on my legs (and in fact everywhere else except my head) was causing *me* anxiety. I hate my body and facial hair. I see it now and want it gone gone gone. With the onset of autumn in New England, and therefore long pants weather 
, I thought to myself, “Why not?”
So I took razor and shave gel in hand, and shaved my legs. What a wonderful, freeing feeling, derived from a simple act! So much more comfortable (despite razor burn on my inside thighs, which I hope will diminish over time), so much nicer in tights or under my silky slips, or even under my plain old skirts!
But it’s more than just a sensation thing. Shaving my legs was an act of release for me. As I ran that razor up my legs, I watched the hair fall away, and with it a tiny part of my masculine side, leaving just a bit more space for my authentic self.
It’s not the removal of the body hair that’s important. It’s the freeing of self that it represents. It’s the feeling of femininity that comes from it. I look at my legs now–nude or in pantyhose or tights–and see just a tiny bit of the real Catherine, who is still not free to be fully herself, but who has found a new way to celebrate who she is.
