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"The New Girl" - Part 1 free porn video
THE NEW GIRL
Part 1
"The New Girl" chronicles a two-month project in crossing
gender lines. It began as an experiment I conceived in the
summer of the year 2000, a project which sprang from a
fascination I've had for as long as I could remember. "What
is it like, emotionally speaking, to live the life of a
woman, and be accepted as society as female when you were
born male? How differently are you when the only thing that
has changed about you is the group of gender symbols you
present to others? What behavior is reinforced? What
behavior is rejected? How does this happen? What is the
result on self-concept and self-esteem?" I wanted to find
out.
Between September and November, 2001, I became Lisa Anne
Weber, single, unemployed, childless, temporarily
friendless, and legally female. I presented myself as Lisa
full time in public for two months, attempted to find
employment and build a life for myself in the town of New
Haven, CT. I discovered a lot on this journey, mostly while
I was looking for something else.
The book is a day by day chronicle, written mainly as it
occurred. In each installment, I will be offering an
account of a different day along my six-week journey. All
of the incidents are real. Some of the names have been
changed at the request of those involved.
We begin with the first full day of the project, a Monday
in late September...
9/24/01
I bashed my left breast up against the side of my chair as
I sat down to write this. Right now, I suppose the women
are wincing, the men are looking at them incredulously, and
I just hope there's no real damage. My breasts don't feel
anything, neither the sharp pain of a chair back, nor the
soft, sensual, fulfilling pull of a baby's mouth. It's been
that kind of day.
I arose at 7, and put on the same outfit I wore to speak to
Michele's class Thursday, a long gray skirt and lavender
blouse, but this time with ivory hose and my black high-
heeled ankle straps. My hair was brushed back, and I placed
a silver barrette on the side. The look was prim, brusque,
and rather 1930's retro. Kinda like a sweet Barbara
Stanwyck.
...
On a whim, I drove up to SCSU. The guard, all smiles and
politeness, directed me to what he thought was the Human
Resources office. No such luck. A black woman cleaning the
windows, told me it had been moved, across the street. No
one seemed the least bit concerned that I'd been walking
all day on my 3-inch heeled ankle straps and that my feet
were beginning to cave in on me. Two misdirections later, I
hobbled into the right building, and went into the ladies'
room to pull myself together.
As I brushed my hair and put on some more lipstick, a young
Latina woman of about 19 rushed in and looked at the
mirror.
"God, I hate my hair!"
"Do you want a brush?" I offered.
"No the more I comb it the more it just frazzles."
"I know what you mean, mine gets just like straw in this
weather."
"Well, thanks... bye."
"Bye."
Just a chance encounter between two women in the ladies
room complaining about their hair, but the connection was
there... woman to woman... "I know you understand me and
can empathize because you go through the same thing, and
you're older and maybe you can help me." It was
heartwarming in its little way this encounter. It reminded
me of the connections men have with only their closest
friends, or the women in their lives. And so easy. It just
flowed heart to heart as though that was all that was
expected and that was all that was needed to remind us we
were together and therefore a little stronger for a while.
I finally found the HR Secretary, large black woman with a
severe head cold. I asked if she was doing anything for it,
and told her I'd just gotten over a sinus infection myself.
"Amen to that, honey. Those are brutal." she said and
immediately began to search out and write down all of the
people in all of the departments who she thought might use
a writer. She handed me a stack of post-it notes and
directed me down the hall.
"I'm looking for Carol Wright", I said to a group of people
in the hall. A small woman with short brown hair, wearing a
brown pants suit came barreling down the hall before they
had a chance to answer.
"Does someone want Carol Turner?" she asked.
"Carol Wright."
"Oh... follow me, hon." she replied. "Did you see last
night's "The Practice"? I've been looking all over for some
one who can tell me what happened."
"Sorry, no. I spent all last night reading."
"That's what I should be doing."
"I'm Lisa Weber, by the way."
"Jane Harding. Hi... She's right down there."
"Thanks. It was nice to meet you Jane..." and she was off
like the white rabbit.
Jane had led me to another series of offices where a
secretary directed me to an assistant who directed me to
another department entirely. In there was a gentleman named
Jack.
"Hello!" he said with a broad welcome in his eyes.
"This is Lisa. She's looking for some writing work. I know
you hire your own freelancers."
"Great. I suppose you brought some stuff."
"A resume and some samples. I do press releases, proposals,
executive speeches, though not much in a university
setting."
"That's OK. Most often I just need someone who can string a
good sentence together."
"Well I can do that", I said, smiling.
We agreed that he would call me when a project came up and
I hobbled my poor feet back to the car, still smiling.
Vicky
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