After my last post, inquiring minds are asking if I am myself a full-figured femme. Just to clear up any confusion and put the rumor mill to rest, here’s what I look like:
So now you know the truth! Picture me as a leggy Catwoman plotting world domination while sipping a Perfect Manhattan with 2 bourbon-spiked maraschino cherries.
I think voluptuous women are gorgeous, but that’s just not me. For the most part, I’ve always been thin and tall. I’m not curvy, I wear a size “A” bra, I don’t have Kim Kardashian’s ass, and that’s all OK with me. Please don’t tell me that you don’t like women who are “too skinny,” or tsk tsk about my size. (I don’t comment on your size, do I?) And don’t even think about saying to me, “you’re so small!” Uhh, no, I’m NOT. I tower over you, as a matter of fact, even when I’m not wearing heels!
Femme (and feminine) does not equal skinny, WASP, and conventionally pretty to me. I am an ally of fat femmes and other women of size. I love the Helena Rubinstein quote I used in my last post because I think it’s a reminder that beauty is about enjoyment (of food, life, etc)–not self-deprivation. I have issues with my body, like most other women, but being thin is not one of them. So, although it’s heresy to admit this in some feminist and lesbian circles, I will say it loud and say it proud: I love my skinny jeans, and I love being a fierce, skinny femme.