On Being Feminine

Another jog to my thinking process arrived online recently and this one was about being feminine. I’d like to credit whoever sent it to me, but I can not recall and didn’t save it. Sorry.

It struck me because as I write SEAL Master, I’m trying to describe what makes my heroine feminine and my hero masculine. I’m interested in the polarizations. The opposites so I can play up the tension and the attraction, but there is a line. And in real life, as I wrestle with my own femininity, I vacillate between spending time on it and doing other things.

Being feminine takes work. I watch other women. Some seem to be female and attractive effortlessly. Not me. It takes hours. If I want to feel or look feminine, I wash, dry and curl my hair. I wear earrings and other jewelry. My toenails have to be polished. Various parts of my body are shaved. I wear mascara and blush, then strategically spray perfume on selected parts of my anatomy. I wear a dress or skirt unless shorts or jeans are warranted and then I choose a form-fitting and flattering shirt. And I wear heels. All this takes at least two hours. And while I do this on Saturday nights to go out with my husband, and sometimes other nights when I have a special gig, I’d much rather spend that same time writing or running. So in general, I wrap my hair around a pony tail holder, skip the makeup, and rely on jeans or shorts, maybe a cute tee and call it a day. Needless to say I’m missable on the average day.

So I reason that if being feminine takes so much time, being masculine must too. And that’s the arena in which I want to play. Let’s call it the “just how manly is that man” game. And SEALs are my heroes because they are the epitome of masculine. Just how much time would you think one spends on being masculine? I’m guessing 23 to 24 out of the 24 hours everyday. I’m giving him 60 minutes, though not consecutively, when he is not overtly manly, and I’ll explain below

He’s a SEAL. So, on duty, he’s doing Navy guy stuff all day. He wears boots and sweats or is doing something physical swim, dive, drive, shoot, parachute out of a plane etc. He gets home or goes out after work, but he’s still doing guy stuff – like tinkering with something, eating beef or drinking beer – yes I’m stereotyping, but I’m guessing it’s not so far off the mark. But then, someone attracts his attention. A chick, someone who has gone through the similar process as me, trying to be feminine. Then what happens? Well in order to attract her, he has to be ultra masculine, no? Though I’m thinking he’d have to step outside that box to draw her in. It can’t be all about him so that’s where the 60 minutes comes from. The minute by minute opportunity he has to ask her about herself. Find out about her interests that are not going to be any where near his. But does that really happen? I’m thinking no. Still, she’s flirting, eyes hinting of interest and then looking downward, hair being tossed as an advertisement of her femininity. A smile, a casual touch. Nope, don’t think he’s not being male for one second of that process. So if I’m writing someone of substance how less male can I make him? Probably not very because then he’d be a Beta or Omega male and not my beloved Alpha.
Is there ever a time when men and women are together, where either one is unaware of his or her sexuality? I think not.

So if he’s so busy being masculine and it distracts from him being or doing anything contrary to his nature, could he possibly be caring? Nurturing? Considerate? Helpful in non-male chores? Not so sure. And while I love my characters for their traits, I’m not so sure I could live with them.

So ladies, here are the tips on being feminine that came in my email and started me thinking. Wear nice-feeling fabrics (silk, satin, cashmere.) They will catch his attention and give him a reason to want to touch you. Show just a little skin, but leave the rest up to the imagination. Wear that little see-through blouse, but don't forget the sexy camisole underneath. Show off your clavicles, but leave the halter top with your boobs spilling out at home.