And now I have to live with those photos for the rest of my life.
I guess it was part of my personal feminist movement. Hating bras wasn't something I grew into just as my dirty pillows (reclaim) never grew into them because shunning traditional gender roles came to me pretty naturally, and my parents (bless you) also gave very few shits about them.
In second grade (OJ Simpson trial), I spent an entire recess on an actual stump in the playground in my vest and silk shirt proselytizing to the masses (Matthew Barger) about how society forces women into a kind of prostitution selling even their lives for a lifestyle only attainable through a man. Five years later, Mr. Pieper had to carry me to the principal's office for jumping on a kid's back and punching him in the head repeatedly for being a "sexist pig." I miss that obnoxious nightmare of a child; she really had her shit together.
But I've grown out of my cute, warped sense of what a feminist actually is and have turned it into something I don't respect: female chauvinism. The other night, I watching the best series ever created in the history of television, and one of the characters was wearing a sign around her neck that said, "FEMALES ONLY." Fist pump. I immediately started designing a line of them in my head in various colors to go with my outfits because sometimes I dress like a girl now...
what an asshole.
I then thought about all the great (and straight) men in my life who've been model buddies recently in no order whatsoever.
1. The Viking who is the only man not blood related to me that I will allow to feel like he needs to protect me...cause he's a damn Viking.
2. The Belgian giant who prepared a Christmas duck, listened intently to my lady juice (wine and weird period hormones) induced blubbering then validated all my feelings from a place of human decency. Keep that pituitary gland in check big guy.
3. The bodacious Spaniard babe who could have gotten away with nothing more than a vaya con dios after a first class one night stand but instead decided to cultivate a friendship with me based on mutual respect. Am I on Candid Camera? Also, maybe go with the guy above to look at your gland, too.
4. The lovable Guido who told me (a bajillion times), "Emma, I fuck wit you heavy. I fuck wit you heavy." And I was like, "I feel you. I feel you G Frizz Ease." But I really didn't feel him at all, so he explained that it means he enjoys hanging out with me, respects my ideas and opinions and values me as a person...I don't get it either.
5. The Israeli who fucks wit me heavy but would never put it that way. Shalom tío.
6. & 7. The Brit and Venezuelan that reminded me that I could be a real dick sometimes, too, like when I use men for sex or flake out when it's really important to them that I show up. Ohhhhhhhhhh. So, you're telling me that people without penises can do that, too? Yep, that one's on me guys.
8. Danon (that's his actual name). Words. Can't.
Despite what it seems, this was not to brag about how many hoes I have in different area codes because none of them is my hoe. They're my actual friends.
I really like it when the boys are on my team, and I'm on theirs. But that means that I have to stop bashing my teammates only because of their junk because it's just as unfair as when they do it to me. And our team is called Human Team because some people aren't men or women in the traditional sense which fascinates me but not enough to really care what's up because they're just people and I see people almost every day, but my friend Shane (he's a man) told me not to digress into tangents because it's distracting.
This is what happens when you have a tumor on your pituitary gland. I'm pretty sure he died a virgin :(.
