If I could give a speech on the Transgender Day of Remembrance, this would be it:
Last night I had a dream. In it, a trans woman was given a chance to go back in time and live for a day in a world where her birth gender had been female. The day was her birthday and she was being encouraged by her parents to embrace some of the very gender binary ways of being a girl. Having lived her entire life being rejected by her family, she was confused and scared, clinging tightly onto the old basketball hoop they had on the patio. She didn't understand at first that she was free here to embrace all the possibilities of who she could be. Slowly she opened up and enjoyed this one day where her mother treated her as a daughter who would someday grow into a woman, a woman who would experience all the trials and all the joys that come of being female.
Suddenly, a long, black car arrived and a man in a suit whisked the little girl away. They drove silently until they came to a quiet street corner in a place the girl did not recognize. The man offered the girl a choice: "When you set foot outside of this car", he said "you'll either return to your old life or you can stay as you are now. If you choose the latter you will lose everyone you have ever cared about, you will have to start your life over completely without the support of anyone but yourself. You'll be alone but your mind and the vessel that contains it will finally match."
Having been merely a spectator in the dream, I suddenly found myself the third passenger in the car. I railed against the man. What kind of choice was he offering? How could anyone ever be expected to make that kind of decision? "It's not right. It isn't fair. No one should ever be asked to make such a horrible choice" I yelled. The car door opened and just as I was about to get out, I woke up.
As I rubbed the week's old scruff on my face, I realized that the basketball hoop was the one from my childhood. In fact, the setting was my parent's backyard from when I was a kid. During the dream, I thought the little girl represented another member of the community I used to know but, in the light of day, I realized that she was me.
I left transition behind over a year ago when I was diagnosed with crohn's disease. Losing all the ground I had worked for over the course of that year was one of the most agonizing experiences of my entire life. For a long time I told myself that I had no choice, that the disease had robbed me of my ability to choose between expressing my gender authentically or remaining in this male shell I find myself in now.
In reality though, I know now that I did choose. I could have continued transitioning in ways that would have been less effective but instead I just let go completely. It was more than just my desire to shoot the moon and have it all. It was because, as I had transitioned, I had lost so many of the people I cared about. My family, my friends; they just couldn't handle my transition. I lost my job. I felt alienated from everyone around me.
When I got sick, I had a perfect excuse to abandon this dream of finally casting off my gender dissonance. It felt, at the time, that it wasn't worth it. As it happens, my family did welcome me back with open arms and my friends felt more comfortable around me again. I have work. I feel like a functioning member of society.
But the pain is still with me and I realize, had I gone the other way, had I continued transitioning, I would still be in pain, it would just be different. I would still have no family, those relationships I'd built for years would still be strained at best. The dream represented the choice I made, the choice we all make.
Transitioning is a choice. Many of us cling to the idea that we simply must go through this process but that isn't true. That we are trans is undeniable no matter how we deal with it but taking hormones, having surgeries, and going through the complicated legal battles of having the world recognize us for who we feel we are is a choice.
All of are forced to make the kinds of decisions that no one should ever have to make. Our choices come with the kinds of consequences that no one should ever have to face: loss of family and friends, being fired, kicked out of one's home, and those are the easy ones. We face so much violence and so much death, more than any other group of people in the world. So many of us don't make it. Whether we do it to ourselves or are the victims of rage and fear, or even if we just give up and hide in the shadows, we lose more and more of our community each year.
I'm just a man these days. Most of the people I interact with day to day now will never know who I was not so long ago, who a part of me always will be. In spite of that though I can't help but keep fighting for that little girl, for this community, for all of us, the ones who are still here and the ones we've lost. That's the one choice I don't ever have to regret, the one thing in this world I have the luxury of knowing is right. That's why I fight. How about you?
Friday, November 20, 2009
Thursday, January 1, 2009
second verse, same as the first
New year, same old miserable life. Were you hoping for some positivity, hopes, joy? Sorry, I'm fresh out. A got an incurable case of bitterness along with the Crohn's. Imagine that. Can't transition, can't get a job, lay around in bed most of the time hoping I'll get my disease into remission for more than a week or two... I'm not exactly the picture of a happy person.
I want to share something with you. I had this span of a few weeks where things were the way they were before I started confronting my gender dysphoria, before I got sick. In the weeks just prior to the holidays I kept getting invited to parties, events, get togethers, or just one on one hangouts. Something odd happened. I was having fun wherever I went and, at least it seemed to me, that I made other people feel the fun too. It was like old times. Women wanted me, men wanted to be me. If I were a man, you know... that would have been super awesome. For old time's sake though I figured I may as well let my life be simple again and it was. It really, really was. I didn't even feel the dysphoria one bit for a while.
I met a nice girl who I'm pretty sure was interested in me. The internet, uh, sucks though because yeah... I'm pretty sure she discovered the unfortunate reality about who I am in all my complicated glory. I sincerely wish she hadn't but, deep down, I know it was good that she had.
I imagined a life with her (well, with anyone to be honest). I imagined a life where I was married, had kids in the yard, a nice job, you know... normal stuff and, for a second, I wanted it. I just wanted things to be simple. I sent that girl an email saying I hoped we could hang out again sometime. While I waited for a response two happened: a had another flare up of my crohn's and the dysphoria came rushing back. Then, when I thought I couldn't feel any worse, she writes me a two sentence email basically saying she has no room in her life for me. Rejected. Great.
Who was I kidding though, really? I will never have that life. I will always be alone and, with everything else, that has become the last straw. I hate being jobless. I hate having a family who will not accept me. I hate being diseased to the point that I am physically incapable of transitioning to my appropriate gender identity. What I hate most of all though is that I must endure all of this alone. I will never have that one person there to support me through the bad times. I'm just too bizarre. Who would ever want to deal with my shit?
I just... I want someone to love and be loved by but that person doesn't exist. My life just feels empty and meaningless. It would have been nice to have managed even one goal, one desire, one dream this year but I've managed nothing and, as a result, I feel like I am nothing.
The New Year's party I went to was nice. That's something. I won't pretend to really know what 2009 will be like. It's just hard to hope for anything, you know?
I want to share something with you. I had this span of a few weeks where things were the way they were before I started confronting my gender dysphoria, before I got sick. In the weeks just prior to the holidays I kept getting invited to parties, events, get togethers, or just one on one hangouts. Something odd happened. I was having fun wherever I went and, at least it seemed to me, that I made other people feel the fun too. It was like old times. Women wanted me, men wanted to be me. If I were a man, you know... that would have been super awesome. For old time's sake though I figured I may as well let my life be simple again and it was. It really, really was. I didn't even feel the dysphoria one bit for a while.
I met a nice girl who I'm pretty sure was interested in me. The internet, uh, sucks though because yeah... I'm pretty sure she discovered the unfortunate reality about who I am in all my complicated glory. I sincerely wish she hadn't but, deep down, I know it was good that she had.
I imagined a life with her (well, with anyone to be honest). I imagined a life where I was married, had kids in the yard, a nice job, you know... normal stuff and, for a second, I wanted it. I just wanted things to be simple. I sent that girl an email saying I hoped we could hang out again sometime. While I waited for a response two happened: a had another flare up of my crohn's and the dysphoria came rushing back. Then, when I thought I couldn't feel any worse, she writes me a two sentence email basically saying she has no room in her life for me. Rejected. Great.
Who was I kidding though, really? I will never have that life. I will always be alone and, with everything else, that has become the last straw. I hate being jobless. I hate having a family who will not accept me. I hate being diseased to the point that I am physically incapable of transitioning to my appropriate gender identity. What I hate most of all though is that I must endure all of this alone. I will never have that one person there to support me through the bad times. I'm just too bizarre. Who would ever want to deal with my shit?
I just... I want someone to love and be loved by but that person doesn't exist. My life just feels empty and meaningless. It would have been nice to have managed even one goal, one desire, one dream this year but I've managed nothing and, as a result, I feel like I am nothing.
The New Year's party I went to was nice. That's something. I won't pretend to really know what 2009 will be like. It's just hard to hope for anything, you know?
Saturday, November 29, 2008
column b
I'm not sure I should be writing in here anymore. I don't have much to say about the journey of trans people these days since I'm derailed. Still, I kind of need to vent emotions I'm feeling and there are some I don't have any other outlet for other than this blog.
I had this friend. She lives really far away from me and our relationship was really complicated. I was never sure how she really felt about me but, over time, my feelings grew and deepened for her. She felt like the first person in my whole life who really understood me, who might love me for who I was.
She was sick, though. I mentioned her in a video once. I'd said, if given the choice, I would sooner save her than save the rest of the world in its entirety. Some of you thought that sounded sweet or nice but, in reality, I said it because much of her illness is my fault. She was sick all along but something else happened; something between us and, as a result, she got much sicker.
I couldn't deal with it so I stopped writing for a while. Nearly seven hundred miles of distance made it easy to avoid her but impossible to escape the guilt. For three months I agonized over the mistakes I'd made.
I reached out eventually but it was too late, I guess. She was so angry with me. I tried to understand. She told me she would write emails explaining everything I'd missed, telling me just how guilty I was and how deep her hatred extended. I wanted to get them. I was ready to be punished for the mistakes I'd made. I just wanted things to get better between us. Despite all my best efforts I loved her even though I'd only met her twice.
I wonder if you're reading this. I feel so ridiculous and small. Your livejournal is updated and you talk about this other girl. I guess you finally found someone you could love. You probably hate me now more than ever. If I'm lucky maybe you're just ambivalent. Either way, you're gone. I thought I was alright with that. I tried my best to make peace and accept that this was a damnation of my own making. Still, there are days when my heart still breaks because I miss you. You were my little prince. I still love you and I still care but I won't write again. Your silence tells me everything I need to know. You're better off without me. If I had the courage I would slash open my eager flesh in penance. I wish I could take it all away, trade my life for yours. There's more but I can't bear to write it. I still wish every day that you'll be well, that your miracle will come but I am anathema to all that is good in your world. I am the bleakness, the emptiness, and the pain. I failed you. I'm sorry.
I had this friend. She lives really far away from me and our relationship was really complicated. I was never sure how she really felt about me but, over time, my feelings grew and deepened for her. She felt like the first person in my whole life who really understood me, who might love me for who I was.
She was sick, though. I mentioned her in a video once. I'd said, if given the choice, I would sooner save her than save the rest of the world in its entirety. Some of you thought that sounded sweet or nice but, in reality, I said it because much of her illness is my fault. She was sick all along but something else happened; something between us and, as a result, she got much sicker.
I couldn't deal with it so I stopped writing for a while. Nearly seven hundred miles of distance made it easy to avoid her but impossible to escape the guilt. For three months I agonized over the mistakes I'd made.
I reached out eventually but it was too late, I guess. She was so angry with me. I tried to understand. She told me she would write emails explaining everything I'd missed, telling me just how guilty I was and how deep her hatred extended. I wanted to get them. I was ready to be punished for the mistakes I'd made. I just wanted things to get better between us. Despite all my best efforts I loved her even though I'd only met her twice.
I wonder if you're reading this. I feel so ridiculous and small. Your livejournal is updated and you talk about this other girl. I guess you finally found someone you could love. You probably hate me now more than ever. If I'm lucky maybe you're just ambivalent. Either way, you're gone. I thought I was alright with that. I tried my best to make peace and accept that this was a damnation of my own making. Still, there are days when my heart still breaks because I miss you. You were my little prince. I still love you and I still care but I won't write again. Your silence tells me everything I need to know. You're better off without me. If I had the courage I would slash open my eager flesh in penance. I wish I could take it all away, trade my life for yours. There's more but I can't bear to write it. I still wish every day that you'll be well, that your miracle will come but I am anathema to all that is good in your world. I am the bleakness, the emptiness, and the pain. I failed you. I'm sorry.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
just like high school
I know I'm supposed to be honoring those we lost today and I am but I can't help but feel like I'm not even a part of this anymore. It's been months since I've been able to take anything HRT related. My beard grows in so thick again, my hair is falling out in clumps, and I've aged about a decade. I don't feel like I'm part of this community. Hell, I don't even feel like I'm alive anymore. I tried to take the flutamide just to block the testosterone and now my kidneys are mysteriously messed up. Why? Wasn't being trans bad enough? What the hell? Now I can't even do anything about it. I can't even get a job to save my life.
I'm just waiting to die. I'm angry and I'm tired and miserable beyond anything I ever thought was imaginable. I lost everything. I just wanted to feel comfortable in my own skin. I feel like I've got a life sentence with no parole. That's it. Blog's done. I have absolutely nothing left to say that isn't violently furious or pathetically depressing. If you see me on the street do us all a favor and put one right between my eyes, alright? The world will be better off and I won't have to spend another second feeling this way.
I'm just waiting to die. I'm angry and I'm tired and miserable beyond anything I ever thought was imaginable. I lost everything. I just wanted to feel comfortable in my own skin. I feel like I've got a life sentence with no parole. That's it. Blog's done. I have absolutely nothing left to say that isn't violently furious or pathetically depressing. If you see me on the street do us all a favor and put one right between my eyes, alright? The world will be better off and I won't have to spend another second feeling this way.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Duanna, This one's for you
Hey.
Sorry I've been gone a while. My health is still not awesome. I don't want to talk about that though. I want to make a vow right here and right now to stand up and defend all of my trans brothers and sisters. So close to the day of Remembrance and Duanna Johnson, who stood up against hate for all of us is dead. I am gutted. To think I spent much of today arguing with someone because they called me a "nazi" on the internet. Why was I expending all that energy on something so meaningless when Duanna Johnson was fighting for me and my right to walk down the street without being, mocked, beaten, arrested, and killed?
Lori asked "Who's got your back?" Well I don't know who has my back but I hope you know that I have yours. Even if I can never transition I still know the fear of walking down a street at night alone and having that terrible knowledge of what could happen and just how likely it is. I've lost jobs and I've been abandoned just because I'm trans. I never met Duanna but I weep for her as though she were my own blood.
I'm angry but that anger gives me strength. We have to be strong for one another. We have to fight. I am fighting for you. Maybe someday Duanna's fate will be my own but I swear this: so long as I draw breath I will not quit until we can feel safe when we walk down the street. Until that day, lock arms with me kids and we'll walk this road together. And if someone tries to hurt us? We will fuck their shit up!
Sorry I've been gone a while. My health is still not awesome. I don't want to talk about that though. I want to make a vow right here and right now to stand up and defend all of my trans brothers and sisters. So close to the day of Remembrance and Duanna Johnson, who stood up against hate for all of us is dead. I am gutted. To think I spent much of today arguing with someone because they called me a "nazi" on the internet. Why was I expending all that energy on something so meaningless when Duanna Johnson was fighting for me and my right to walk down the street without being, mocked, beaten, arrested, and killed?
Lori asked "Who's got your back?" Well I don't know who has my back but I hope you know that I have yours. Even if I can never transition I still know the fear of walking down a street at night alone and having that terrible knowledge of what could happen and just how likely it is. I've lost jobs and I've been abandoned just because I'm trans. I never met Duanna but I weep for her as though she were my own blood.
I'm angry but that anger gives me strength. We have to be strong for one another. We have to fight. I am fighting for you. Maybe someday Duanna's fate will be my own but I swear this: so long as I draw breath I will not quit until we can feel safe when we walk down the street. Until that day, lock arms with me kids and we'll walk this road together. And if someone tries to hurt us? We will fuck their shit up!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
flip the script
Why, hello there!
I'd love to give you an update on my life but, regrettably, there's not much of one to give. I am really hoping that at the beginning of next week I'll have something hopeful and happy to report. In the interim, however, I was wondering if you wonderful blog buddies might do me a solid? It's not a major solid, As solids go it's actually pretty... uh... loose? Yeah, no idea where I was going with that one.
Anyway! Every so often so as to make me feel like I have some creative juices running through my very visible veins (seriously, if I were a super hero I'd be See Thru Girl It's kind of gross) I participate in this competition. Under normal circumstances, you are given a week to write a fifteen page screenplay using a preselected genre and subject. On this occasion, however, you have 48 hours to pen a five page script where there's preselected genre, location, and random object that must be involved (I know what you're thinking and get your minds out of the gutter, you filthy beasts).
So.. yeah! I participated and I am looking for some feedback. I'm not going to provide any qualifiers about whether or not I like my own work. I'm looking for some straight up now tell me is it gonna be you and me forever, oh oh oh, Paula Abdul, kind of honesty. Think you can handle it? Sure you can, because you're awesome. Um, please? I will be super grateful to anyone who even thinks about reading it. Approval: I crave it.
Here's the deets:
Genre: Romance
Location: Psychiatrist's Office
Object: A Vending Machine
My scripty poo: Crisps
And now I must go and torment myself with political nonsense. Yee gads I can't wait for this election to be over. I'm outie 5000.
edit: it seems that mediafire is not a great server. If you want to read the script between now and when I find an alternate server, drop me an email or comment and I will email it to you. Sound fair?
double edit: it's working now. Go for it, internet homies!
I'd love to give you an update on my life but, regrettably, there's not much of one to give. I am really hoping that at the beginning of next week I'll have something hopeful and happy to report. In the interim, however, I was wondering if you wonderful blog buddies might do me a solid? It's not a major solid, As solids go it's actually pretty... uh... loose? Yeah, no idea where I was going with that one.
Anyway! Every so often so as to make me feel like I have some creative juices running through my very visible veins (seriously, if I were a super hero I'd be See Thru Girl It's kind of gross) I participate in this competition. Under normal circumstances, you are given a week to write a fifteen page screenplay using a preselected genre and subject. On this occasion, however, you have 48 hours to pen a five page script where there's preselected genre, location, and random object that must be involved (I know what you're thinking and get your minds out of the gutter, you filthy beasts).
So.. yeah! I participated and I am looking for some feedback. I'm not going to provide any qualifiers about whether or not I like my own work. I'm looking for some straight up now tell me is it gonna be you and me forever, oh oh oh, Paula Abdul, kind of honesty. Think you can handle it? Sure you can, because you're awesome. Um, please? I will be super grateful to anyone who even thinks about reading it. Approval: I crave it.
Here's the deets:
Genre: Romance
Location: Psychiatrist's Office
Object: A Vending Machine
My scripty poo: Crisps
And now I must go and torment myself with political nonsense. Yee gads I can't wait for this election to be over. I'm outie 5000.
edit: it seems that mediafire is not a great server. If you want to read the script between now and when I find an alternate server, drop me an email or comment and I will email it to you. Sound fair?
double edit: it's working now. Go for it, internet homies!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
bound
Oh jeez.
So, hey. Remember when I was talking about how badly I need a job like a zillion times on this blog? Right. Of course you do. Well there's two new wrinkles in that situation and I don't know what to do. In other words, I need insight. Let me give you a little back story.
I haven't worked in nearly a year. The last job I had I, uh, was not the nicest person in the world. I'm totally anti authority in a way you thought only a teenager could be. Also: you know how there's a process to transitioning at work? Yeah... I didn't bother with that. I just sort of started telling people a few at a time and then I just started presenting however the hell I wanted from day to day. Yup. I'm crazy. AND stupid. Just as a fun aside: my father also worked in the same office as me and had no idea what I was doing. My father is delusional and, to be fair, I am a bit duplicitous and sneaky.
Anyway. You already know what my year has consisted of. Between the lousy job market, the multitude of permanent physical conditions I've gained, and sheer laziness I haven't gotten any work. Finally, now that I've been feeling healthier, I stepped up my job search. It took one day to realize the new bump in the road: absolutely no one from my former company will give me a recommendation. I have zero professional recommendations I can get. NONE. ZILCH. It's a big problem. I was completely devil may care about the trans thing, basically said "Go fuck yourself if you don't like it" and now I'm paying the consequences. I haven't worked for too many other people in my life. I was a personal assistant but my boss lives in Florida now and I haven't talked to her in ages. Prior to that I worked for a bit of a scam telemarketing company and before that did a whole mess of retail. It's not exactly a shiny resume, is it?
It's not what you know, it's who you know. Except, I don't know anyone and everyone who knows me thinks I am a) an asshole and b) a crazy person. I can't say I blame them. It's not like those are not the first two descriptive adjectives that spring to mind when I think of myself. I do have friends though but, ah, then comes the next wrinkle.
A good friend of mine said she could get me some work as an assistant where she is working which would mean, gasp, a job in the fashion industry. I know, right? How cool. I would love to get into that but there's a problem. You see my friend has connections to the man who deals with the hiring. She has a big mouth (like me) and has talked about me on many occasions. When she asked about my getting this particular job he immediately got defensive. I don't want you to be surprised but he didn't want to stick his neck out for the tranny. I know. SO hard to believe.
I could get this job. It's not a lock but I have a shot. The problem is that I can't transition at this job. EVER. It would mean screwing over the guy who would be sticking his neck out for me based solely on my friend's recommendation and it would also cause problems for said friend.
I'm of two minds on the matter. The first mind says that the job market is a horror and that sacrifices have to be made. My other mind is screaming expletives because, frankly, this is bullshit. I mean it's the fashion industry. How did I stumble upon a conservative, Jewish fashion company? HOW!?!? There is no gayer institution than fashion. Bah.
I'm sending my resume along. What else can I do? I'm painted into a corner. I guess what I'm really asking is: How am I supposed to go back to being a man full time again? I make a lot of jokes about what a good looking mister I make (and, fair play, I am the hotness) but this is killing me. My hair started falling out again. I'm all angular and hard looking. Dude, this sucks. I was all soft and girly for a little while there.
It's either be a dude with a job or be a homeless tranny. These are the choices I get in my life. Fuck this world. Fuck it hard, fuck it bloody, and fuck it till it's dead then fuck it's corpse a while longer. Sorry, did I say that last part out loud? Not very lady like at all of me...
So, hey. Remember when I was talking about how badly I need a job like a zillion times on this blog? Right. Of course you do. Well there's two new wrinkles in that situation and I don't know what to do. In other words, I need insight. Let me give you a little back story.
I haven't worked in nearly a year. The last job I had I, uh, was not the nicest person in the world. I'm totally anti authority in a way you thought only a teenager could be. Also: you know how there's a process to transitioning at work? Yeah... I didn't bother with that. I just sort of started telling people a few at a time and then I just started presenting however the hell I wanted from day to day. Yup. I'm crazy. AND stupid. Just as a fun aside: my father also worked in the same office as me and had no idea what I was doing. My father is delusional and, to be fair, I am a bit duplicitous and sneaky.
Anyway. You already know what my year has consisted of. Between the lousy job market, the multitude of permanent physical conditions I've gained, and sheer laziness I haven't gotten any work. Finally, now that I've been feeling healthier, I stepped up my job search. It took one day to realize the new bump in the road: absolutely no one from my former company will give me a recommendation. I have zero professional recommendations I can get. NONE. ZILCH. It's a big problem. I was completely devil may care about the trans thing, basically said "Go fuck yourself if you don't like it" and now I'm paying the consequences. I haven't worked for too many other people in my life. I was a personal assistant but my boss lives in Florida now and I haven't talked to her in ages. Prior to that I worked for a bit of a scam telemarketing company and before that did a whole mess of retail. It's not exactly a shiny resume, is it?
It's not what you know, it's who you know. Except, I don't know anyone and everyone who knows me thinks I am a) an asshole and b) a crazy person. I can't say I blame them. It's not like those are not the first two descriptive adjectives that spring to mind when I think of myself. I do have friends though but, ah, then comes the next wrinkle.
A good friend of mine said she could get me some work as an assistant where she is working which would mean, gasp, a job in the fashion industry. I know, right? How cool. I would love to get into that but there's a problem. You see my friend has connections to the man who deals with the hiring. She has a big mouth (like me) and has talked about me on many occasions. When she asked about my getting this particular job he immediately got defensive. I don't want you to be surprised but he didn't want to stick his neck out for the tranny. I know. SO hard to believe.
I could get this job. It's not a lock but I have a shot. The problem is that I can't transition at this job. EVER. It would mean screwing over the guy who would be sticking his neck out for me based solely on my friend's recommendation and it would also cause problems for said friend.
I'm of two minds on the matter. The first mind says that the job market is a horror and that sacrifices have to be made. My other mind is screaming expletives because, frankly, this is bullshit. I mean it's the fashion industry. How did I stumble upon a conservative, Jewish fashion company? HOW!?!? There is no gayer institution than fashion. Bah.
I'm sending my resume along. What else can I do? I'm painted into a corner. I guess what I'm really asking is: How am I supposed to go back to being a man full time again? I make a lot of jokes about what a good looking mister I make (and, fair play, I am the hotness) but this is killing me. My hair started falling out again. I'm all angular and hard looking. Dude, this sucks. I was all soft and girly for a little while there.
It's either be a dude with a job or be a homeless tranny. These are the choices I get in my life. Fuck this world. Fuck it hard, fuck it bloody, and fuck it till it's dead then fuck it's corpse a while longer. Sorry, did I say that last part out loud? Not very lady like at all of me...
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