I missed this bit of your life completely, and am so sorry. You didn't say anything attention-getting, and I was busy with my spouse's cold, and my stomach gripe.
Wear what pleases you.
I don't like dresses for much but dancing, but find robes and caftans comfortable. Until I have to carry something up stairs. I like my boy clothes.
I have a new week to declare, maybe. We defended marriage, then porn: How about "Vagueness of Gender and Its Definition" Week. I'm really tired of trying to figure even my own out. We are all members of the genus and species Homo sapiens, no? Let's attempt cooperation in this business and declare ourselves people. Yeah there's gonna be some confusion about genetic and morphological and sartorial and hormonal differences, but is that worth making a mess over?
I haven't figured out the skin colour thing, much less the penis/vagina thing. The sartorial bit, oh, hell. Neither one of us is good at it. I do like your denim skirt, though. Wish I fit into mine.
One of these days we'll go shopping and have buttered scones for tea. I'll join you in wearing boyclothes. Then I'll get some fake whiskers and spirit gum and you can take me home to meet your mom. I might be able to bring the Best Beloved in a skirt and James in a plaid or lurex tie. We could maybe get Perrine into a tutu. The animals would be dressed properly. Yes, I'm being silly or facetious or sarcastic about something serious. It's a reflexive reaction to something I can't do anything about that affects someone I care about. Imagine the craziest, stupidest, thing you could do. Then grin wryly.
(no subject)
Wear what pleases you.
I don't like dresses for much but dancing, but find robes and caftans comfortable. Until I have to carry something up stairs. I like my boy clothes.
I have a new week to declare, maybe. We defended marriage, then porn: How about "Vagueness of Gender and Its Definition" Week. I'm really tired of trying to figure even my own out. We are all members of the genus and species Homo sapiens, no? Let's attempt cooperation in this business and declare ourselves people. Yeah there's gonna be some confusion about genetic and morphological and sartorial and hormonal differences, but is that worth making a mess over?
I haven't figured out the skin colour thing, much less the penis/vagina thing. The sartorial bit, oh, hell. Neither one of us is good at it. I do like your denim skirt, though. Wish I fit into mine.
One of these days we'll go shopping and have buttered scones for tea. I'll join you in wearing boyclothes. Then I'll get some fake whiskers and spirit gum and you can take me home to meet your mom. I might be able to bring the Best Beloved in a skirt and James in a plaid or lurex tie. We could maybe get Perrine into a tutu. The animals would be dressed properly. Yes, I'm being silly or facetious or sarcastic about something serious. It's a reflexive reaction to something I can't do anything about that affects someone I care about. Imagine the craziest, stupidest, thing you could do. Then grin wryly.