Since becoming a homeowner, I've spent a lot of time viewing home design and decorating shows. I'm looking forward to the eventual gutting and re-fashioning my home to something more in keeping with my personal style and function.
These shows, with various agendas, all have a similar format. The introduction, the before showcased, the work performed and then, the moment we've all been waiting for, the REVEAL.
The abject horror that flashes every so briefly in the eyes of the homeowners as they pretend to just love the plastic flowers glued all over the walls or the dung colored carpet in the family room is worth the price of cable.
For the past year or so I've come to terms with many truths. Namely, my sexuality. Finally, my REVEAL: I am a lesbian. I uttered these four little words for the first time this year. I told my son and my daughter.
There aren't any prospects and thanks to this, a very low libido. But aside of the effects of 17 days (seriously? 17 days!) of a visit from Auntie-I don't-know-what-I'm going-with-her-FLO, I'm feeling better than I have in years; for now there is freedom and hope.
Mind you, I have never so much as kissed a woman, but the desire to hold and be held in kind, long denied, has been there. I've been clueless, powerless and without action for far too long.