Did I miss the girlhood boat?

On not being a girl's girl but also not NOT being one 🎀 *Chapter 81*

I missed the manual that explains how to plan showers, bachelorette parties and girl’s trips. That I’ve attended many and found myself in awe of the way a Maid of Honor or best friend just know the games to schedule or the cute food to cater is beyond me. Where did y’all learn this?

I picture sorority meetings, a power point presentation, “this is when you bring out the diapers and have everyone fill them with tootsie roll turds” or “make sure to collect every ribbon to assemble the bride’s rehearsal bouquet.” Who told you this is a thing??

Much to my grandmother’s despair, I did not join a sorority. However, I did attend rush. When I showed up the first day in flared yoga pants and platform flip flops and found myself in a sea of pastel cocktail dresses, bouncy curls and pearls, I knew I was in the wrong place. I dropped out promptly after house tours (I couldn’t resist seeing the inside.)

I’m really not sure from where this ‘outside the girl’ status stems. Maybe it’s because I grew up on a street with all boys and a little brother who I could beat up until he started taking karate. Or, it could be due to my geriatric tendencies in youth, I essentially thought everyone my age was stupid until I hit 30. Being bigger than all the other children around me, I slotted myself into a matronly position, don’t mind me, I’m 64.

When, in high school, girls started fretting about losing their virginity, I was appalled. Nothing was more disgusting and scary to me than the thought of having sex with someone. At 16, if you’d told me intimacy never had to extend past kissing in a field of daisies, I would have been satisfied. It confused me why my friends were obsessed with growing up so fast, which is hilarious considering I was already acting like their grandmother.

I didn’t play with dolls and I microwaved My Little Pony to see what would happen. (In my memory, nothing, it didn’t even melt.) The only things I liked were my Breyer horses and my favorite series, Thoroughbred, chapter books about a little girl and her race horse, Wonder. So, yeah, I was a horse girl, but even horse girls plan baby showers.

How does one recognize their duty as the girl who plans the party? This is one of the greatest wonders of my world. Truly with no self-pity, I marvel at who would put together my engagement party. Who would understand that it’s their assignment? I have the same amount of deep soul connections with my friends of all genders, is there some sort of unspoken pecking order I haven’t been informed of? Have I missed party planning for friends I should have realized my obligation to? Sorry if I have!

I tell myself I have other strengths. Where I may not be the best at keeping in touch, I’ll always listen, deeply care and pick up right where we left off. I’m the friend who will make you laugh and generally feel like things are probably gonna be okay. Summer Brittany, Holiday Brittany, Birthday Brittany, I will also always find a reason to celebrate. So this reflection isn’t a coming down on who I am as a person, it’s a genuine questioning of a code that completely baffles me.

I Don’t Want To, by Bonnie Lynn Felton, lynnfelton.com

I have several girl friends who LOVE a girls trip. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been on a proper one in awhile but I always sort of feel like, as long as they don’t suck, come one come all. At the beginning of February, I worked an event with a predominantly female team and it was absolutely awesome. I’m not sure it registered, oh my god this is a girl’s trip, as much as, oh my god, I’m surrounded by so many cool women I want to be.

At 41, I’ve surpassed most of the pressure to plan wedding and baby showers. My friends and I, who are yet to or don’t ever plan to celebrate either, understand (or at least I think) that any basic getting drunk together scenario will suffice as party enough.

Do not get me wrong, I LOVE TO PLAN A PARTY. Chic, elegant dinner parties, once we have a yard and space beyond this tiny square table I currently write to you from, are eminent. It’s the more prescribed, marking of a milestone event whose etiquette will always elude me.

I’m not a girl’s girl but I’m also not NOT. I love being female. To me it’s being softer, less reactionary, able to give and receive, to listen and understand and to be nurturing. These all come very naturally to me and feel deeply gratifying and warm. Being a woman also means being gross and vile and hilarious, quick witted and fast to act when necessary. Able to intuit what any human or animal might actually deep down need. It means knowing patience and how to handle both physical and mental pain with under appreciated fortitude.

My father and my boyfriend both have deep friendships with women. It’s a quality that drew me to Alan immediately, his understanding that women are to be revered. (I thank his incredible mother for this.) It makes for a very well balanced relationship. I’ve never understood the sentiment, especially when from a woman, “I don’t really have girlfriends.” I imagine this sprouts from competitive conditioning to be the fairest one of all. I’ve always found myself feeling like a spun top when caught in the middle of a “girl drama” battle. Wait, what did I say?

When, last year, a plethora of ‘girlhood’ articles and posts landed all over the place, I assumed they weren’t for me. They seemed very barrette and bow heavy and also geared towards a younger generation than the elder millennials, like me, who’d already donated that gear to Goodwill in 2012. And yet, there was so much nostalgia in the sentiment. I do miss rolling around in my bed for hours thinking and pining. Starting 1000 diaries and adding no more than three entries. Having crushes that felt equally life-giving and breathtaking. Girlhood isn’t lost on me, it’s just very very far down on the list of qualities I use to identify myself.

I often ask Alan, do you understand that you get a fresh start on your life every 24 HOURS while I get one every 28 DAYS? It takes me longer to process, sometimes I like to stew and wallow and there isn’t always an immediate answer to whatever is plaguing me. Only a woman would really get it.

While I may not be the friend to know which games to pick, parties to plan or whose addresses to collect for thank you cards, I will tell you if there’s shit in your teeth and I will ALWAYS be bursting to cheers every single one of your wins. Anyway, if there is a girl boat to board, I am down! My question is, ladies, how do you know where it’s docked??

READING

A quick list of my favorite Substacks (and links to their latest posts) that continue to inspire and keep me in awe of their captivating authors.

• The Weekly Work

• Keepsake

• Maybe, Baby

WATCHING

As I wasted away, feeling near death due to a bout of the stomach flu that took down all six members of my family, Alan included but minus the littlest one, my 18 month old nephew, I tried turning to my all time favorite comfort show, Grey’s Anatomy. While this usually brings me great distraction to face aches and pains, this week it only drove home how ill I felt and so I turned to Downton Abbey…? Yeah, I fell deep into a hole of that version of the 1920s.

BUYING

These tulips!! Oh my gosh, what joy. I’ve recently rearranged my schedule to make it so I can regularly attend the Saturday morning farmer’s market again and what a difference this makes to my routine. These are from Diamond Hill Farm, an Athens, Georgia favorite full of gorgeous produce and the most glorious people.

Last week I got red, this week I got pink… and another bunch of red. Get to know your farmers if you have a local farmers market close to you!

So, as I mentioned, we almost died of the stomach bug or food poisoning, something horrific, last week and I got truly NOTHING accomplished apart from getting to my job on Thursday and Friday… barely. My battery and appetite are still at about 4%, it’s wild what a 24-hour virus can do to your body.

It goes without saying how grateful I am for my health and the health of my family. I’m sending all of you who deal with chronic pain or illness, physical and mental, as much love as I can through this screen.

If all goes as planned, the second installment of My Favorite Jeans will be coming THIS Friday instead. For my Paid Subscribers, Sweet Tea Talks will be postponed a week as this Wednesday I am bringing you (all of you, paid and free) a sneak peak of How to Act in a Restaurant, my second Substack you can subscribe to by following the link if you like. Those posts will drop on Thursdays (on a bi-weekly basis at first) going forward over there.

I am sending you all so much love and gratitude and wishing you all good health, joy. Talk to you soon.

P.S. Happy March! Feels like the year can truly begin now so also, Happy New Year!