foolish mistakes, but whatever, they are all mine.
I am all the wrong things - fat ,middle aged, bisexual, disabled, loud and I won't go away. My hobby is seeing how many years I can add to my collection before I die.
Posting will be random but may contain fat acceptance, wool, and cats, lagomorphs and corvids in no particular order. Posting may also be sporadic as I have ME/CFS and a bunch of other stuff that makes me tired and some times crabby.
All worked by me is under the license below unless otherwise stated. Photos, quotes and work by other people are under license by their creator. If you see your work here and would like it removed from my blog, please contact me.
As you can see, in this picture I have helpfully labeled all the ‘female’ parts of my body by highlighting them in red. Also, there is no red in this image.
Anon, you need to rethink your life choices, yo. “Normal people?” We’re offending you non-trans people? Terribly sorry, dear, won’t happen again, except that this isn’t your space. This is ours. And if our bodies offend you, then I am pretty sure that is entirely your problem. Because they’re our bodies. We can’t exactly trade them out, can we?
The point is, no matter if we experience dysphoria, no matter if we feel that our bits were configured wrong, no matter if we wish they would just up and walk away without a trace, they’re still /ours/ and they are the gender that /we are./ So think of that next time before you go inaccurately gendering and labeling people, pal.
Dishonor, Anon. Dishonor on you. Dishonor on your family. Dishonor on your cow.
That first paragraph = magic. You win every award on the planet, darling submitter. *endless applause*
Empowerment. And dishonored cows. <3
Reblogging for the sheer power of awesome that radiates off this post.