Queering the Triathlete (and Other Discomforts)

A Melancholy Zebra determined to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.


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Mindful Speech and Modern Flakes

“Yeah, of course. I’ll call you this weekend.”

You smile a little to yourself, pleased that you and Cool Person will finally get the chance to hang out and that you’ll certainly be getting out of your apartment this weekend. When your pool friends ask how your weekend went, you’ll respond, “It was great!” instead of the usual forced smile and half-shrug with “I just relaxed, watched some TV, caught a breather” when you know damn well that you’ve been taking that breather for quite some time.

So you keep your phone a little closer all week, but it refuses to buzz. You send an innocuous text on Thursday afternoon of: “Hey! So, what are you thinking for the weekend?” No buzz. Not wanting to be a pain in the ass, you wait. It isn’t until Sunday afternoon that you give up and throw some pizza bites in the oven.

They forgot.

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Resting Bitchface, ASL, and BPD

I have what some like to call a Resting Bitchface. When I’m simply sitting around in no mood in particular, I look like I’m brooding. I look like something is up. I look pissed. 

In frustration a few years ago I asked a friend why no one hit on me. Granted, that did not and does not bother me much, but I was still curious why it didn’t happen. I’m reasonably attractive. I have reasonable sized tits. What’s up? He told me: ” you just look… intimidating.” Answer: you have a Resting Bitchface.

I have little to no awareness of how my face appears when I’m not paying attention to it. 

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