"Well-Hung"

One thing that I really like in a woman is nice hands. Well, “nice” is a pretty subjective word, especially in my case. Some people – like my friend Helen, who loves hands (male hands, that is) in a way that I wouldn’t even be able to compete with – think that great hands are hands with long, tapered fingers, with fingernails that aren’t cut too short. Anyway, for her, long fingers are a must-have criteria.
Put it down to my sexuality, but for one thing, I don’t really give a shit about long, male fingers, with fingernails that are too short. I like nice hands; nice women hands. Actually, the shorter her nails are, the better! Since, you know, long fingernails are dangerous and all that (imagine my utter mortification when I had to explain to my friends why lesbians and short fingernails should go together, which is another story).
As usual, I digress. This post is an anecdote about fingernails, my “disgusting habit” (according to Helen), and how that fits in with being a lesbian. Hey, everybody wins, on this blog!
So, there we were, sitting at our table in the college foyer, Challenge and Change in Society textbooks spread out across the table, attempting to study for the quiz. I lifted a finger to my mouth and stuck the nail between my teeth, ignoring the fact that it was too short for me to bite (you see, I thought that if I cut my nails really short, whenever I tried to bite them, I just wouldn’t be able to). Before I could rip my nail out of my index finger and drip O-type blood all over my textbook, like something from a movie scene, Helen reached over and yanked my hand out of my mouth.
“You know, you could have really nice hands, if you only tried,” she said, imploringly, smacking a plastic ruler down onto my fingers. “Stop biting your nails.”
“That’s why I’m brilliant!” I exclaimed happily, and extended my hand to her. “See, I cut my fingernails so short, that I couldn’t bite my fingernails, even if I wanted to, and not just out of a habit that I’ve had ever since I can remember!” I grinned – sheer genius. “I, um, also probably shouldn’t grow my fingernails out. Ever.”
“Jesus, why?!” Helen exclaimed, looking utterly horrified at this revelation.
“I already explained this,” I told her, rolling my eyes. “You know, the whole—”
“Well, do you have to use your hands for that?” she asked. “And, you’re not doing it with anyone right now, are you? See, therefore, you can grow out your nails.”
And that was that with Helen, who is still waiting for me to grow out my fingernails so that she can stare with honor at the beauty of my hands (well, in her opinion, that is). However, with my mom, things went a little differently. We were getting a pair of Converse sneakers, since she decided that, having all the colors of the rainbow sitting in my shoe rack, under sneakers, that I should have a black pair, for my more formal occasions. So, there we were, in the Mid Valley outlet, with me trying on a pair of black Jack Purcell ones, which I’m partial to.
“These are actually a little on the small side,” I said, prying a pair of size six sneakers that didn’t even manage to house my whole foot, and handing them back to the salesman by their laces. “Could I get a seven… maybe even an eight?”
“Again, I swear, you should have been a boy,” my mother said, huffing. “You’d have been the perfect boy. And can you imagine how much less discrimination I’d have to deal with, if my son were the perfect gentleman, and my daughter were not a lesbian.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I raised an eyebrow and tried on the size eight sneakers, into which my feet fit snugly – perfect.
“Look at your big hands and feet,” my mother replied. “You know what they say about men with big feet… Well, no, you probably wouldn’t. You’re a lesbian.”
“Size doesn’t matter,” I replied, smirking to myself. “And, anyway, I have big hands. I guess maybe size does matter, in the lesbian universe.”
My mother looked confused for a second. “Big hands? What does that have to do – oh!”
I grinned, taking off the sneakers and putting on my Reeboks. “Yeah. Hands. And I happen to have pretty big ones. Strong ones, too. From all that violin-playing.”
“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” my mother said, sounding very shocked, and slightly faint. “You had better not be actually using those big hands, Stephanie, on anyone… anyone who is not yourself, that is.”
I paused for a moment, letting the impact of her words sink in and sear my brain, burn disgusting images onto the back of my eyelids and cost me another year in the psychiatric ward of a non-insurance-covered hospital that would keep me in debt till my dying day.
“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” I retorted, shuddering heavily, picking up the shopping bag and marching on ahead of her, traumatized beyond salvation.

"Day 10: 1 Confession"

This is fairly straightforward;
Whenever I see someone who looks like you — about the same height, the same body type, the same hair and the same laugh Whenever I see someone who looks like you — about the same height, the same body type, the same hair and the same laugh — I do a double-take. I do a double-take.

—

In other news, I am on formspring, so click the link and send over your questions!

"Day 9: 2 Smileys that Describe Your Life Right Now"

1. 0_o

2. XD

"Day 8: 3 Turn-Ons"

1. Good jawline, and/or side profile, and/or nice feet, and/or great smile, and/or beautiful collarbones.
I don’t have an explanation for why I’m attracted to these body parts, but I just find them so amazingly sexy. I haven’t met anyone with all five, except Amelie Mauresmo, which is why all five aren’t requirements, because apparently, it’s impossible (unless you're the aforementioned Amelie Mauresmo, in which case, you should call me!).
But hell, if you have even one of these, I’m probably drooling over it secretly, and you just don’t know it.

2. Smelling good.
I love that. When you smell good, I just want to hold you and smell you forever, especially resting my nose in that space between your jawline and shoulder.
Yeah, okay, that’s starting to sound a little creepy, even to me.

3. Gramatically-correct spoken and written English.
This has to be the sexiest thing in the history of sexy things. Whenever I meet someone who speaks and writes great English without forcing it, I automatically have this urge to jump them.
Yum.

"Day 7: 4 Turn-Offs"

1. Skinny-ness.
Is that even a word? I mean, yeah, it’s nice to look at and all, but seriously, what is there to cuddle? Just, don’t be skinny, okay?
Also, if you’re skinny; most of the time, it means you watch what you eat, and I’ll feel weird eating around you, and I really like food.

2. Wiseasses.
This is different from smartasses, who are actually funny.
Sometimes.
Wiseasses are people who think they’re being smart and funny and sarcastic and cryptic when they’re really not.
I have three classes a day, and one person like that in my second class, and two people like that in my third class. Honestly, I just get really annoyed and stressed out with these people.

3. Listening to hip-hop all/most of the time.
Which means you automatically have bad taste in music. Which means, I don’t like you.
Yes, I am a seriously pretentious music fuck, and I judge people based on their taste in music.

4. Taking off your shoes and having bad-smelling feet.
I take off my shoes and my feet smell fine. There is a way to get your feet to smell good, okay? Wash your feet, get some foot powder, put on a pair of socks with your sneakers, do whatever it takes.
Because stinky feet are just disgusting.

"Day 6: 5 People Who Mean A Lot"

This is in no particular order.
—

1. Cadbury.
I know, he’s a dog, my dog, and technically not a person, but my mom refers to him as my “brother”, he sleeps in my bed a lot of the time, and has meant so much to me from the moment my dad set him down in my arms, when he measured from the tip of my finger to just before the middle of my forearm.

2. My parents.
Yes, that’s two people — contrary to popular belief, I can count — but hey, since they’re married, and two become one and all that crap and blahblahblah, so that’s supposed to make sense.
Make of it what you will.

3. Helen and Alwy.
They complete me, because they both sit next to me in Challenge and Change in Society, and Alwy is like a male version of Helen (or maybe Helen’s like a female version of Alwy?) but they’re both awesome, and they complete me, — not in a perverted way, so that counts as one.

4. Amy and Vivien.
I’m aware that I’m flat-out cheating now, but honestly — Amy and Vivien are constantly together; they tweet each other pretty much hourly, and whenever I see them, it’s always together, so that probably counts as one.
For example, Vivien might say, “Amy and I are taking you shopping for a dress!”, or I might say, “Amy, let’s kidnap Vivien and go out!”
See how that works? Anyway, it’s not like the Numbered Day Challenge Police are going to come all the way to KL and arrest me.

5. Nick.
Because I feel like he’s the only person in my family who truly knows and understands me, despite how bitchy we get with each other.

"Day 5: 6 Things You Wish You'd Never Done"

1. Fucked up my friendship with him.
Everyone else doesn’t seem to think much of him, and I’ll admit he has his crappy, terrorist days. Still, I remember the good times we had together, and the jokes he used to tell me. I still can’t listen to “Madman Over the Water” without laughing my ass off.
And I miss having that closeness with him, because I could be stupid around him, and vice versa.

2. Made that first cut.
I don’t know why I did it, in the first place. Actually, I do know why. I’m so sick of fighting it. Over and over and over again.
And I don’t even know who I’m supposed to apologize to.

3. Met you.
And I know it’s pretty harsh, coming from me, but I honestly wish I hadn’t. You know that song by Blink-182, the one where Tom sings, “You fucked up my life.”? I pretty much feel this way all the time.
I would give almost anything not to feel like this anymore.

4. Drank that glass of milk when I was six.
It tasted funny, but it was milk and I drank it anyway. And I was sick for a week, and I couldn’t eat or drink any dairy-based products, which was when my family decided to go on a dairy-product binge.

5. Allowed myself to be Confirmed as a Catholic.
And now, whenever someone from church sees me in somewhere that’s not church (that usually happens, because I don’t go to church), they’re like, “How come I don’t see you in church anymore?”
When this happens, I have this irrepressible urge to punch them in the face.

6. Made a lot of noise in high school, and for the past nine months, college.
I don’t know, I just feel like making a lot of noise and being so happy and hyper and loud all the time kind of made makes it hard for me to be emotional and depressed sometimes, because everyone expects me to be happy.
Even if I’m upset, it usually comes off as bitchy, so my moods in college swing between extremely happy/hyper and loud, or bitchy and sarcastic.
I feel like I can’t even hang on to my grief in peace.