fitforafemme.com

Goodness grief, has it been a whole week? It has. What can I say, y’all, it’s the holidays. Last Friday we took advantage of the chance to unwind before all of the prep before a casual fight party soiree – the first gathering we’ve hosted at our new place. In a sentimental twist, that unwinding included our watching Toy Story 3 while a fire snapped and crackled in the background, which left me bawling inconsolably and in a baking frenzy all night long. (So much more than I can say for Room In Rome, which was bullocks. You have been warned!)

Fortunately, our guests thoroughly enjoyed the home-baked goodies the next day. Unfortunately, I might have traumatized the petite. As the movie ended and Bonnie stood waving on those front steps, I clung to my not-so-wee one and wailed, “Take me to college with you! You don’t have to go very far, do you!? YOU CAN LIVE WITH US!!!” while M shook her head in disbelief and handed me tissues.

I am STILL tearing up just thinking about it. It’s too much.

The party went swimmingly! We all had a blast, and it turned into a late night slumber party that rolled into a delicious brunch and Glee reruns the next morning. The week sped past – we wrapped a ton of presents on Monday night, I ran errands Tuesday night, last night M had to work late and tonight we took my brother and his girlfriend out for a belated birthday at Restaurant Ducroix, an unassuming little traditional French place downtown with great food. We all had the coq au vin save the renegade tomboy, who ordered the seared scallops with risotto.

Tomorrow night, we’re going on a romantic date. We’re exhausted!

This was my work-to-dinner outfit. A heavy corduroy miniskirt from Old Navy, a soft, warm sweater from H&M and thick tights and my two-tone Novela pumps. I added some glitz with my old Laundry by Shelli Segal ring and this big, chunky necklace from Banana Republic.

The real glamour lies in my new nail polish – Bring on the Bling from the new Burlesque line from OPI. I got it from a colleague in our Secret Santa gift exchange! I’ve had ultra glittery nail polishes before, but this must be the holy grail because it looked incredible under the soft lights at dinnertime and walking along the twinkling, damp streets of SF at night. I can’t stop staring at it. It seemed like the longer I had it on, the more mesmerizing it became. (This has nothing to do with the respective number of glasses of champagne consumed over time, I swan.)

So, uh, G E T C H U S O M E.

Love and miss,

FFAF

PS. Soon, soon you will have holiday party photos. I won’t let y’all down!

PPS. I know my pony throw pillow is too epic for words, and we’ll discuss it, but not yet.

Welcome back! It appears that Fit For A Femme was down for much of yesterday and last night, and I had no idea. Sorry, folks! I must confess I was rather vexed, but late last night the tomboy fixed it and all was well again. Phew. (There might have been a brief hissyfit, during which I refreshed my Gmail account rapidly, snapping “I PUT IN A TICKET! WHEN ARE THEY GONNA GET TO MY TICKET!?” while M reminded me it was a late Friday night and no one was working, most likely. Harumph!)

On Wednesday night, M & I decided to get dolled up and go to Flourish, a “sexy extravagant dance party” for us flannel-clad, Birkenstock-wearing dykes! No, really. It’s like the entire purpose of this event is to get all fancy and dressed up for no reason at all, and sip strawberry-topped champagne by a roaring fire and dance dance dance dance dance to the radio (or DJs). It was their last Wednesday night – they’re moving to a Friday beginning next month! – and we wanted to be sure and catch it in its mid-week glory just in case a weekend crowd alters the premise overmuch. I hope not, because we had the most amazing time and will definitely be back. Plus, the gal who runs it is lovely and once rescued me from an evil Mongolian heiress.

So, this dress: LOVE YOU, MODCLOTH! I love the flutteriness and kicky shortness and pretty, saturated palette. I love the keyhole back and how it hangs perfectly across the collarbone but refuses to fall off one shoulder or the other. I’m not at all fond of elastic waistlines (in fact, I’ve been known to recklessly tear them out with my handy seam ripper), but Sheeba the Belt remedies that effortlessly, and the spots tie the two together perfectly. Of course, I had no choice but to pair it with these shoes. MEOW.

In other news, let’s all give my beloved Grandma Jones a round of applause, because it’s her vintage necklace got me wearing gold again and she’d just get the biggest kick out of seeing me rock it at a big gay dance party if she were still alive. XOXO.

PS. Once again, these pictures were taken at 2AM. Forgive me, but know that I spared you any in which I was chowing down on the buttery, sugary tortilla I bossed M into making me when we got home!

CONFESSION: Last week I received a call out of the blue: Would you like two tickets to the opening night for A Christmas Carol? Why, yes, of course I would! I suppose it was a reward for good parental behavior (I donated several bottles of wine to the holiday auction) or perhaps for my offspring’s own stellar academic performance, regardless, the petite and I left the tomboy at home on a freezing Tuesday night and embarked on a mission in the heart of Union Square to the Geary or A.C.T. Theater (depending on a number of variants or preferences).

Not wanting to freeze my arse off yet insisting upon paying respect to the performances sartorially, I chose this glam-but-officious outfit, topped with leather gloves and a heavy wool pea coat. I haven’t seen the play since I last evolved politically,  but it was wonderful nonetheless. Very spooky and lively and pretty to look at and modernized for today’s ADD-addled audiences. During intermission, the petite and I sipped Orangina and champagne respectively, and it was a splendid evening.

PS. The socks are from Bloomingdale’s or Saks or something, and the fur is vintage. Of course.

PPS. WTF re: my skinny arms? I am convinced it’s the heavy velvet wide-leg pants skewing perspective, because NO.

CONFESSION: I suspect that this could be the very first time I’ve added actual COLOR to this dress. How foolish! Now I can’t wait to pair it with a yellow belt or a bright red coat. I had a stroke of genius and took this cameo ring – which is much too big for my skinny little fingers and which belongs to M (it’s too big for her, too – little know fact: our fingers are the same size, give or take half a size…that sounds pervy, I guess, for a lesbian blog, but I meant it in terms of pretty little baubles) – and just looped the scarf ends through twice to secure it snugly. Now when I’m thrifting or antique shopping and find a ring I’ve fallen in love with but am too tiny for, I’ll buy it anyway, because I really love this look.

Two nice things from today:

1. After a work meeting and some errands, I popped into Noe Valley and treated myself to a nice Italian lunch. I woke up in a bit of a funk this morning, and it went away almost instantly over a giant plate of creamy fettucine alfredo, garlic bread, a single glass of champagne and a good book.
2. Success regarding workout clothing at Nordstrom Rack today: A cozy new Reebok track suit thingee in a nice, rich shade of charcoal that didn’t break my bank (nothing sparkly or vulgar scrawled across the ass! nothing so absurdly tight that panty lines would show even if I went without panties at all! nothing in a shitty, fug print!) and three baby t-shirts and a tank top for appx. $6 each! HAWT. I will admit, however, to buying dark grey eyeliner. For all my strength, a gleaming ribbon of weakness.

Before I say good night, thanks to all the folks who offered words of wisdom regarding workout clothes here or elsewhere! Y’all are rad. XO!

CONFESSION A: So, last we heard, the tomboy was getting on a fancy yacht and leaving the femme behind…can you see her up there, walking away? So sad. Sad and alone. (Don’t listen for one second to that nonsense M commented about my slapping her…that was for something else and she knows it!)

CONFESSION B: As ever, all my silly pouting was for naught. Yesterday afternoon, I saw M off on her yacht  and she had a good time – the food was great, she said, and not only did they serve champagne but she had her fair share of rum & cokes, too. As they made their way toward the Golden Gate Bridge, I trekked my ass (in heels and fancy hair, of course) from Pier 3 to Pier 39 in like 10 minutes flat, marched into the first fancy restaurant I saw and very sweetly asked for a seat over the water on the second story outside. I figured it was worth a (long) shot. To my utter surprise, I was gestured in right away and seated just in time for the show to start. It was such a gorgeous, cloudless day to be on the water. I ordered a very delicious rose petal gimlet with a float of champagne to make a DIY French 75 and some tasty lunch and got my camera ready to take some pics.

Those angels wrought glorious havoc over the bay and SF skyline and Golden Gate, and I had so much fun watching it. Excepting M’s view, I couldn’t have had a better one myself. They really are something else to watch. They flew so close that one colleague of M’s almost dropped her drink in shock on the upper deck, as it tore past them. We texted each other back and forth like dorks, in total awe and, you know, because we missed each other. Like dorks.

And then it ended! Much too soon, but when I saw M’s yacht heading back toward Pier 3, I closed out my bill, stopped downstairs for some hot baby donuts and cotton candy for the petite, and met M back by the Ferry Building, where we chattered about fighter jets and our meals and cocktails and took a bunch of FFAF photos. It was a perfectly imperfect Friday!

Oh, and I took the trolley back, but only because I didn’t want the baby donuts to get cold! Clang-clang-clang!

I am so upset that I cannot get my nifty slideshow to work. I will keep at it and post as is for now. XO!

From Movies

HISSYFIT CONFESSION: Last night M saunters in from her poker game at work, grinning even though she didn’t win, a bottle of Nicolas Feuillatte in hand (they give her one every year on her anniversary), talking about how she was invited at the last minute to a work excursion ON A YACHT for a CHAMPAGNE LUNCH during the first real BLUE ANGELS SHOW of FLEET WEEK on the bay. It was for everyone on the team of a specific project she wasn’t on, but had put in so much work on that they wanted to include her, which is super awesome. Not so awesome? She couldn’t take me with her, obviously! Pout, pout, pout.

No matter that I’d been geeking out on the air shows all day long and had pretty much memorized the schedule. Thursday, noon – practice. Friday, 2PM – practice, 3PM – show. Saturday…you get the picture. Anyway, I decided to put my big girl panties on and go with her today no matter what. My plan was to send her off and then find a nice spot on the wharf somewhere to watch all by lonesome. With a flask, preferably. M threatened to kill me if I let any hot tomboy pilots pick me up and take me for a ride, though, so there went that plan! (Pfft…whatever happened to Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell?)

Tune back in tomorrow for more pics and the rest of the story. Yes, I’m a tease. I know. But the tomboy just made a round of cosmos and it’s urgent. And guess what?! Sunday = cowgirls, go-carts and In & Out for a very special birthday girl’s celebrations. It’s going to be a good weekend, y’all. Have fun!

CONFESSION: These photos are approximately 8 days old. GASP. Really, they are just tomboy candy and for fun. An impromptu gay parody of sorts after American Gothic, of course, which makes ever so much more sense if you know my complete and total (and often hilarious and heartrendingly tragic) family history. After running around in my mother’s backyard, we found ourselves some serious gardening tools and had some silly fun.

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