Monday, November 30, 2009

Cheer status

There's a lot to say about cheerleading, and Master likes to make sure that I say most of it. It's tough to be the type of empty-headed, smiling ditz he wants me to be without falling into cheerleading at some point, and I thought I'd pass something along that he noticed. Have you ever looked at a shirt or jacket for a cheerleader, professional, collegiate, or other? I mean really looked at it, not the person wearing it?

Notice how this college girl is identified: "Pacific Cheerleader". Not as a member of a team...the shirt isn't about "Pacific Cheerleading" or "Cheer Squad". It's about her...for a true cheerleader, it's all about her. The whole point of getting onto the squad is not to be part of the squad. It's not like other sports, where you get a shirt that says "Pacific Football" or "Pacific Swimming".

Wearing a cheer jacket or shirt doesn't announce of what team you're, it is meant to announce who you are. The whole point is to make yourself, and make clear that you are a cheerleader. Unlike any other sport I know, cheerleading gear is designed not about the team of which you are part, but the identity that you've adopted. Never forget that cheerleading isn't about stunting, or winning's about being popular and cute. It's about being a cheerleader.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

New Moon

Of course, Master made sure that I saw New Moon the first day it was out. Although I didn't have to go to as a girl, I was wearing a New Moon t-shirt, and I know that many in the audience were a little weirded out by this guy sitting there by himself. Of course, had they known I was in Twilight bra and panties, it would have been worse.

Master did play one humiliating trick on me, though. Even as a guy, I was expected to let my "inner girl" cry at some point...and he demanded proof of that crying. How did he get it?

I carefully but thoroughly painted by eyes with eyeliner, typical of any Twilight groupie. Of course, per his instructions, I was to cry at one point in the movie (I couldn't help it when Edward left Bella! How sad!) Master told me I could expect to walk home unless he saw the trails of eyeliner going down my cheeks...leading to a humiliating Saturday night at the local cinema.

Sunday, November 22, 2009


I'm the type of girl who will burst out laughing over something that happened...yesterday.

A favorite quote of "girls like me", that demonstrates one important idea. We cal lit "being random"...the rest of the world calls it mood swings. Hyper, sad, sulky, giddy, silly and more. Master expects me to change moods convincingly and suddenly. To cry over nothing. To laugh over nothing. Sometimes I will find a note somewhere that reads "today you are ____", which tells me that Master expects an instant mood change, no matter how inappropriate, as soon as I find it.

It's called being random.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

How to read CosmoGirl!

I thought I'd take a second to share with you what is expected of me when I read CosmoGirl! You might think it would be a case of sitting down and leafing through the magazine, but CosmoGirl! isn't like most magazines. Rather, it's an authoritative guide on how a girl like me should behave. It's more a textbook than a magazine, and should be treated as such.

Master insists that once I am properly made-up and dressed, I sit down with my mag, a little girlie notebook, a pen, tape, and scissors.

First of all, just read the magazine. The whole thing, cover to cover, and especially the ads. Then begin learning from it. I'm only done reading it when I have done the following:

  • Take every quiz with pen, right in the magazine. Circle your answers.
  • Read every advice article, underlining important ideas. Take notes on the margins, especially if it's something your friends should know.
  • Cut out any clothing in the ads or articles that would like cute on you. Tape it into the notebook with notes about prices, where it's from, what would look cute with it.
  • Cut out any key words or phrases that would work in a collage.
  • Write something for a reader column..."why my boyfriend is the best", "embarrassing moments", "secrets", etc... Master is liable to have me mail them or do so myself.
  • Write an email to a friend about something in the magazine and get her reaction.
I do less work when I read The Economist...

Monday, November 9, 2009


Master has come up with a new way for me to be judged as approaching a girl's point of view. There is a section on Wet Seal's website ( where customers can sign up and create outfits and have them judged by users. Basically, outfits pop up at random, and users can declare if they "love it!".

By comparing number of "love it!" ratings with views, one can quickly see how popular one's outfits were. There's even a rating that tells how many times total a girl is told that someone loves her creation. Master tells me that I must create five outfits, and at least one of them must achieve a love it! rating of 25%, which is almost impossible. If I don't achieve that, there will be punishments...and this will continue until I collect 500 plaudits.

If you want to see the outfits I create for myself, head on over to the "Wet Seal Community". My nick is ShiningSweetness...tell me if you like what you see! Please, oh, what you see!

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Princess Chicken, Part II

(Part II of my Halloween fiction story, "Princess Chicken". Part One is here.)

The first couple got out of the car, and walked up to me. A college couple, the girl already clinging to her man ready to scream and clutch, when his scanning eyes caught me.

" look at him Yasmin!"

Hands chained down and slightly behind me, there I stood, a vision of frothy white and pink in my Little Miss Muffet costume. A vision of vulnerable femininity as two "real" people" -- a real man that I wasn't, and a real girl I could never be -- stared at me, their humor tickled. I was already reddening before Yasmin licked her ruby lips, forgetting for a second her own fears. " sucks to be you!" she laughed on the way by, her eyes clearly tracing the high hemline of my costume. The last look of Yasmin I had was her face twisted back to look over her shoulder, smiling in mid-laugh at this pathetic loser chained up to the entrance.

This established much of the pattern for the evening, as girls delighted in my pitifulness while their men uncomfortably avoided any sign of appreciation -- perhaps they didn't want to end up in a light pink skirt on Halloween themselves. Or suspected of liking such guys. The less scared girls invariably waved good-bye on their way out, snickering into their boyfriends' ear.

It turns out the first half-hour was just a good warmup, because life got a lot more complicated. As the line began to build, pretty soon bored high-schoolers and college kids were eye to eye with me. That's when things really turned embarrassing. They had nowhere to go as they waited their turn, and I was invariably an object of conversation...and soon to be derision.

It started with a group of three girls in matching soccer jackets from a local school. They were carrying on, the way younger women do in an effort to prove just how much fun they are and how much you should wish you were one of them. The boldest one brayed "hey, can I get a picture with you?" I was stuttering out some weak tea, when her friend piped up "Duh...he's chained up, what's he going to do to you?" Giggling, two girls ran up to me wrapping themselves around my sides, smiling for the photo. I couldn't even turn my face or body, I was hemmed in so tight. One girl cupped a "breast", the light flashed, and I was somebody's souvenir.

That was all it took. The night devolved into many flashes as everyone wanted my photo -- alone, in a group, with others...whatever. Sullen boyfriends were marched up to stand beside me. Girls snuggled up to me, knowing their boyfriends would hardly be threatened by such a male-less guy in public. There were even traces of lipstick on my cheek from a couple adventurous kisses...and not a couple hands dived under my skirt in back. I had to endure it all in front of the crowd. An appreciative audience snickered as they got bolder...especially the girl with beer on her breath who loudly declared "this is my brother's phone number" while stuffing some paper in my cleavage.

It stayed there for a while. Who was going to attempt a retrieval?

Although the taboo had been broken, people still played by the rules in front of others. I just found myself wondering what would happen after closing...

Sunday, November 1, 2009


Well, Halloween was awesome. The following is a summary of my night, and every single bit is true. So consider it all italicized.

By about 6pm that night I was in full costume as a honey bee. I was about an hour away, so felt safe from familiar eyes. The costume was basically as shown at left, though I added a couple layers of yellow/black petticoats, a wig with pigtails and a peek-a-boo combed over one eye, makeup, false nails painted yellow rather than black, and fishnet tights. I also had a small clutch yellow purse that looped over my wrist. Barely large enough for cash, ATM card, license, and cosmetics. This led to a frustrating five minutes outside Target as I sifted through my purse looking for my keys, one hand trying to keep my tiered skirts under control. And everywhere I went people loved it. Literally all people.

I started at a donut shop, where of course I bought a honey dipped donut. The cashier just had to call out her co-worker from the back room. They insisted on taking a photo of each other next to me. My appearance was different enough that I agreed.

Then after driving around a bit I went to a grocery store where I bought a small amount of honey. Between taking out my contacts (to increase the feeling of vulnerability) to the hair combed over my face, my vision was iffy. But the cashier waiting outside her register was thrilled. I made her day, she told me repeatedly. She wished me a fun and "buzzzzy" Halloween, and she couldn't wait to go home and change into her own costume. She was positively glowing.

I decided to stop at Target for some fake flowers. An older gentleman with a grey buzzcut looked at me and gave me a thumbs-up. The four cashiers at Target loved it as well...the "best costume she'd ever seen" said one. I actually stayed there for a few minutes and chatted...though one of them couldn't stop laughing.

Everywhere I went I got positive feedback. The courage I must have, I was told, the guts I was incredibly intoxicating. Complete, utter, endorphin dump.

Now, there were opportunities looking back. There was a Halloween store I could've offered to advertise by standing in front (for a dare, I'd say). Going into a mall, or as I did last year actual trick-or-treating. The scavenger hunt thing never got off the ground. But it was seven kinds of awesome...

Only 364 days to go till the next one.