..And hence, the very nature of Femme is revealed.

Last night I performed at a local community bellydance venue. Cue bouncy Egyptian music and sparkly bra-and-belt costumes, right? Wronnnnng! My solo was to “Black Betty” by Spiderbait, and my costume consisted of grey-black jeans under a black sequined miniskirt and silver coin belt, and a black crop top. Hey, gotta play the part, yes? In any case, it was a blast. Rocking out to “Black Betty” while bellydancing isn’t something a girl gets to do very often. (Next up? A veil dance to the overture from Phantom of the Opera. I’m pretty stoked.)

ANYWAY! Back on track. Afterward, I was very hot, sweaty and ready to get out of most of my costume. I stripped down to the jeans, changed from the crop top to a black cami-tank and whipped my hair back in what could barely pass for a chignon. The makeup - dark, smoky eyes and very crimson lips - stayed. Out I walked into the restaurant, back to my table, dripping sweat, barefoot, wearing casualwear only a rung above sweats and a tee - and god did I feel sexy. I mean hip-sashaying, sidelong-glance-through-lowered-lashes, paint-the-town-red sexy. (Of course, the post-performance endorphin rush helps.)

Naturally, because of this website and my own explorations, I’ve been thinking about the concept of Femmeninity a lot. And particularly how it can occur at any time and place, not just the times when we get all dolled up and ready to rock the casbah. This particular occurrence struck me as a prime example. You’d think I’d feel sexiest during the dance, right? Well, I admit I did feel pretty damn awesome. Bellydance comes in second only to a good, long, continuous, moaning, writhing orgasm in my world. But no, the real WOW moment came after, after I’d deconstructed and casual-fied myself.

I guess I should wear those jeans more often.

Oh, and for what it’s worth, M must have picked up on those vibes as well, because those good, long, continuous, moaning, writhing orgasms I mentioned? Yeah, I got lots of those last night. Mmmm.