Thank Goddess for femmes and those who worship them. Last night, I had dinner with a new femme frien
Thank Goddess for femmes and those who worship them. Last night, I had dinner with a new femme friend and she painted my nails and we talked and talked and talked. And as we talked, her adorable partner came home, lit us a candle, chatted for a bit and disappeared into the bedroom to give us space - withdrawing only to replenish the hot water in our tea pot. As she brushed the lacquer onto my fingers, my hands resting on a fancy fashion glossy, we told each other pieces of our herstories - our queer community woes, first loves, bad haircuts, and those early moments when the word “femme” blew quietly from our bubble-gum lips. This lovely ritual felt rejuvenating and nurturing and…complicated. It made my heart yearn for Majestic. I came home and cried and ached for the evenings we would stay up past our bedtime and paint our toes. Those nights we talked shit about misogyny, but more importantly, colour combinations. Those early-morning photo shoots with our across-the-hall bedroom doors flung open, trading tender heart secrets and hard-won opinions, silky scarves and leather belts, and no-this-colour-looks-better-on-you lipsticks. It’s not a six foot long hallway that separates us now, but a rich, tempestuous ocean. But, Majestic, I make myself glamorous for you. I always will. -- source link