Monday, July 04, 2016

Simon/Joy: Being beautiful is hard work... (but it does count as work!)

I've got to admit, I'm going a bit stir crazy here. I am the type of guy who just needs to be busy with something all the time. It's that kind of drive that has given me success at just about every job I've ever had. I don't do "sitting around" very well, but it feels like that's all I've been doing.

There's more to it than that. I'm still not ready to go get a job in Joy's field, even though I've been studying my ass off. I contemplated going for my CalBRE certification so that I, Simon Woodford, would feel like a genuine Realtor, but Joy already has hers, and if I'm confident in my ability to study policies and law on my own, why should I waste the time and money? Theoretically I could apply tomorrow but I really, really want to make sure I know my shit. I don't half-ass things like this.

So I do work on that, it's just there's so little to show for it at the end of the day I feel like I'm getting nowhere. And speaking of entirely hypothetical successes, there's my work at actually adopting Joy's identity.

Now, when I tell you all this, I want you to remember that this blog is supposed to be a judgment-free zone. I know you've heard all kinds of stuff before but this is new to me, so bear with me when I say it's hard to admit this: I kind of love being sexy.

Who doesn't, or who wouldn't? If you got to ride around inside a Barbie doll all day, would you keep it dressed in a stained hoodie and sweat pants? Nuh uh. As self-conscious as I've always felt slipping into Joy's wardrobe, having it at my disposal and seeing how well I fit it out is a delightful consolation for what I have had taken away from me. I get a little tingle of pride when I get to the front of the line at the 'Bucks and the male barista gets slightly more upbeat and friendly, or I open the door and the pizza delivery guy is so mesmerized he doesn't realize I've stiffed him on the tip (hey, I'm low on cash right now!)

On the flip side, women seem to be a lot less predisposed to want to talk to me. Which is fine, I don't need their jealousy right now. Bitches be crazy, after all.

I'll admit, I do miss the days when dressing myself was as simple as "this shirt, those pants." Now I've got a lot of stuff to consider: my "color," how flattering a cut is, how I'm trying to represent myself (low cut? crop top? Bare arms, legs?) There's a lot to consider with layers... women's clothes tend to be made of thinner fabric, which is great for those hot San Diego days, but means I have to consider bringing along a sweater if I'm planning on staying out after dark. Then I have to account for whether my bra (or bralette, or bandeau, as is often the case with my little set) is visibly a color that clashes with my top, especially if it's shear... fortunately the visible-bra look is in, and my most common out-and-about look involves a loose-cut tank top where you can get a hint of the goods, but everything scandalous remains hidden... matched with black tights, which I'll admit would feel like an unforgiving second skin if I were as bulky as I used to be. But I've really got the legs for it.

In fact, I've got the legs for lots. They look great in denim shorts (high or low cut) spandex, or skirts. The shorts I like, despite being a bit stiff, because they feel freeing, despite often riding so shockingly high that the bottom curve of my butt is revealed by several of them. The skirts are my fear though, because I do worry constantly about a stiff breeze causing me to pull a "Marilyn..." especially if it's one of the flouncy A-line skirts Joy favors. In general, it feels weird to have nothing separating your legs, and I know I seriously have nothing popping out there, but I still feel like something personal is going to just tumble right out if I sit the wrong way. I'm sure I'll get over it. I'm sure I'll get "over" lots of things... hmm.

Next will be accessories and make-up... a whole new adventure.

Of course, to look truly great I have to make sure not a wisp of body hair is visible on my person. I've already shaved my legs twice since I've been here, and am contemplating whether I have the heart to just wax it all off (I mean all of it) for bikini season. I'm also doing my best to keep my blonde locks looking vibrant and stylish. I hate when it hangs limp. All in all I had to take a day to figure out what every bottle and jar of shampoo, conditioner, moisturizer, lotion, cream, shea butter, body and hair spray I inherited from Joy's beauty kit is supposed to do. Moisturize your elbows, ladies... you'll thank yourself in twenty years, apparently.

Let nobody tell you being beautiful is easy. But it's a skill, a set of knowledge that can be learned even by a schmo like me, in a relatively brief span of time. Not that I have it mastered, but I'm learning. The way I see it, putting away my pride and learning all this is an investment in myself. I am going to have to look very good to make the most of my Joy Kershaw experience.

Which is all just in time for the big Fourth of July BBQ I have been invited to tonight. I have been back and forth on whether I wanted to go... I am going stir-crazy and while I can foresee awkward moments when I "reunite" with Joy's friends, am I supposed to just forge my own social circle out of nothing? I think not. As Treena has said, there are a ton of people who miss "me," and want to know what I am "up to." (Although when I told her I was considering going out tonight, I got the raised eyebrow of "Are you serious?" How inconsistent...)

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