Fashion a-foot

So I took my shot today at wearing traditional feminine attire. It's 'formal day' at work today because the Deputy Minister's assistant just bought a convertable, and she said she would take the best-dressed person out for a jaunt in it. Though I didn't necessarily want to go joy-riding with the DM's assistant over lunch, nor did I think I would be the 'chosen one', I thought it would be nice to participate as the office newby that I am.

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I picked through my tickle trunk this morning, and there really wasn't anything glamorous in there. The stuff I have is more along the lines of 'costume': a medieval gown, a plastic dress, go-go dresses, a spiked collar. That kind of thing. But I did have one nice cotton dress from Turkey, and a pair of heels to go with it. I've worn those heels once, to a wedding.

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I'll admit that I feel pretty conspicuous in a dress and pumps. As I walked to the bus stop this morning in my hell-heels, I wondered how on earth women everywhere could manage in them. I see women in them every day. The numbness from my crumpled toes immediately made me think of Japanese foot binding, whereby it used to be common practice in Japan for women to wear special shoes designed to make their feet small. Despite Japanese patriarchal conventions prescribing small feet as an indicator of femininity, the underlying dynamic has more to do with constricting women's power in a general sense.

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And so there I was in my heels, thinking to myself that suddenly my mobility has been diminished, and that I had actually signed up for it. How uncharacteristic of me. And for what? Although wearing high heels may not be so extreme as Japanese foot-binding, I was really questioning the sense of fashion in our culture, all the while trying hard not to look like I was hobbling down the street. I wondered if I was actually going to make it from the bus stop to the office in those things. I tried using my hips more to walk, as nothing below the knee worked very well. What a mess.

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Despite my plans to be a participant in the goings-on of the office today, I knew myself well enough to pack my sandals. You can be sure that immediately upon reaching my office, the pumps went back in the bag. Good riddens!

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In case you're curious, the picture shown here is a result of Japanese foot binding. Yes, her toes are wrapped around her foot. That's how my feet felt this morning.

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I'd say that at least wearing the dress was a redeeming experience, but as I was crossing the street today at lunch, the whole bottom of my dress fanned out like an umbrella, caught wind, and almost blew right up in my face. No, I didn't feel like Marilyn Monroe. Glad I decided to wear underwear.

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When I get home today, I'm putting on my jeans.

Green is Good

Third day at the new job rocks. With the legislative assembly only a few blocks away, I took my first stroll through the grounds over my lunch break, and it was spectacular. Beautiful green lawns spread wide under huge deciduous trees and blue spruce, dappled here and there with gardens, benches, and special little pathways. The hobbit in me was in downright ecstasy. Did I mention that within a two block radius from where I work, there is a Tim Hortons? Dangerously within arms reach of the iced cappuccino, folks. Dangerous. 'Tis my weakness, those are. And today I discovered that they unfortunately don't mix well with bus rides. Don't know why, but I'm sure my neighbor on the bus bench wouldn't have been too interested in causal explainations after my near-barfing experience in mid-transit. I was fucking GREEN by the time I got home.

Ah yes, the bus ride. I ride the bus to and from work - a 45 minute ride each way - to avoid the heavy cost of parking downtown. I haven't ridden the bus in years, so it has become quite the novel experience (the novelty of which just wore off today I think). Even after just a few days I'm beginning to notice some familiar faces on my route. There's the Italian looking cougar whose high-heeled adorned feet almost made me lose my lunch for all the horrors she seems to have put them through in those shoes. Varicose veins like snakes running from ankle to toe, looking like they are going to burst and squirt me in the eye. Gross. And then there is this wee little woman who looks exhausted all the time; wasn't a surprise the first time I heard her squeak. She sounds like a talking doll. The bus can be interesting for character studies, but sometimes the study gets a little too intimate when the bus starts to fill and people have to stand in the isle. At that point, I'm dodging exposed sweaty armpits while people hang on like chimps to the overhead belts, or getting bumped by someone's extended gut as they are banged around the isle like chubby bumper cars. It's all good.

So how's the new job, you say? The people are really nice and I get to be on the top floor with all the other hoitey-toitey government Ministry staff. I'm a policy analyst, and we often get put on the same floor with Deputy Ministers. This makes for a nice view when I can get to a window. All of the people are incredibly friendly and helpful, with the only quirk so far being that one of the female admin staff seems to look at my boobs a lot. But who can blame her? They seem to be growing exponentially with the size of my gut these days. Maybe right in front of her eyes, by the amount of attention they are garnering from her.

Anyway, folks, the wild one needs some exercise, and I better go do it before I change my mind. Maybe I'll cram down another piece of peanut-butter toast for good measure before-hand.

Ciao, bella!

Transition

It's quite the adventure leaving a place and starting something new elsewhere, especially when it all begins with a 17 hour drive.
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Just over 3 weeks ago, I woke up at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night - when most Yellowknife drunks are only just barely getting numb at the local pub - showered, gathered a few scant things laying around a house that was no longer mine, and said my goodbyes. The cats were already up, pacing in preparation for my departure because, of course, cats know everything. It was a strange goodbye with them. Neither one really wanted the fuss of me crying in their fur. Lumpy tried to squirm out of my arms. Puss farted on me (a token odour that stayed with me for several hours).

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It was strange leaving the house at 2:30 in the morning. It was a lot darker than I thought it would be; I thought the northern 'midnight sun' that had been keeping me up on recent summer nights would shed light on my departure. Instead, there was an ominous glow to the dim hour of my last glimpse of my former home. Puss watched me drive away from my empty office window, a behavior so unusual that the memory of it has been deeply singed into me and has brought me to many sober moments since.

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With a car so loaded that I could feel my tires groaning under the weight, I rolled with heavy heart along a dismal, lonely highway. There was a lot to think about, but my mind was preoccupied for the first hour with wondering if my vehicle was actually going to make it over the 1,500 kms it was going to take to get to Edmonton. I rarely saw another vehicle on the road. And so I quietly sipped my hot chocolate while watching the rugged landscape pass me by like an old barren dream. I saw many small herds of buffalo beside the road, and passed by a wandering coyote. I tried to reflect on the last 4 years since I had travelled that road in that very same packed car on the way up to Yellowknife, but the severance was too fresh to gain any perspective. Sometimes you have to stand back to get the view.

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It's almost been a month that I've been in Edmonton, and any concerns I had that I might regret the move here have diminished completely. I'm not a city girl, but I have to say that I actually like Edmonton. For a city, that is. The people are surprisingly friendly, the landscape shows signs of life, and there are endless things to do. As the days pass, I look back on my old Yellowknife life, and already it is an old skin that feels like it belongs to someone else. I wonder if in time I will ever miss anything about the north, save for a few special people, and the cats that I left behind. Yes, the cats. I've had a few meltdowns over letting them go. But the good news is that I'm not breaking out in hives anymore, I'm not sneezing and rubbing itchy eyes, and I feel a lot more clear.

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I guess there are always blessings to be found in every situation if one looks for them.

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And so begins a new chapter. Yellowknife had some hard lessons. I don't know why. Some lessons are just like that. But a close friend recently reminded me that not all learning has to be hard. It can be fun, too. And so with a lighter heart and a pocket full of optimism, I forge ahead into the new.