Back on track
Growing up I was the boyish gamine that lived completely outside a world of pink, girly and glitter. I remember that in my teenage years my long thick dark hair was the only feminine feature that would distinguish me from the (very blonde, very caucasian) boys in my class.
Nowadays I have come to terms with the fact that femininity is so much more than society describes it to be. The social butterfly that I am (more of a social hermit really) I have gone about to observe daily handlings that in my vision ooze the word ‘feminine.’ in my opinion a simple touch of the neck, a finger twisting a curl of the hair, a hand adjusting a bra strap while waiting for an elevator to come or a click of a heel on a floor, are the purest forms of expression of femininity. The 5inch heels society claims the latter to be associated with is only optional.
I am trying less and less to let society define the idea of what a woman should wear, what is considered ‘attractive’ dressing and what is meant to make the heads turn of any given man. Rather, I try to come to terms with the fact that I shall never have the typical feminine ooze around me, and try not be discouraged nor effected from it. I want to be my own definition of feminine grace.