Identity Crisis

I don't know what has happened since the Innocent Bystander left, but by all indications, when he left my body quit producing testosterone.  That is the only explanation I can come up with.

For one thing, as I already mentioned, I am just one quick leg hump away from the mother of all big O's.  This did start before he left, but it has gotten progressively worse as time has passed.  I can just see myself meeting him in Amsterdam.  He gets there two hours before I do if all goes as planned, so we will be able to take the train from Schiphol to Centraal together. Wish there were a way to get a private compartment.  I have visions of riding him like a mechanical bull, my free hand keeping time in the air for balance.  Sloppy dismount, I'm sure, but at that point, who would care?

Then there is the fact that against my better judgement, I have again started carrying a purse.  I was doing just fine without one, but like I said-testosterone leak.  And I don't do anything halfway, so I went whole hog.  Embracing the womyn in me ^arched eyebrow^ I chose this beauty from Dooney & Bourke:

Of course, as soon as I bought it and carried it for a day, my inner dyke rebelled, so I went back to the mall and bought this KAVU, which opens up to mid-backpack size:

Now I have to make a decision as to which one I'll take with me.  We don't check baggage (although we will have to on our flight from Amsterdam to Barcelona) so I can't just take both.  I guess the five and a half weeks between now and then will tell.

And finally, we get to this morning.  I don't know what the pluck is up with this, but for some reason, when I went to choose shoes to wear as I fart around the houseboat today cleaning birdcages and mopping floors, out of all my choices, these are what I picked:

Four inch high wedgies.  Me.  KLUTZ, Inc.  Thank goodness I 'know people' at my orthopaedic doctor's office.  Maybe they can refer me to a shrink whilst my soon to be broken ankles heal.