I have a few copies of “Playboy” from the 1970s stashed away somewhere. One of them has a letter where a guy writes in saying, “I met this really gorgeous, sweet woman, and we were planning to get married, but she sat me down yesterday and told me that she had a sex change before she met me. Mr. Hefner, should I marry someone who used to be a man?” and the response was, “So she had a sex change, big whoop. Would you be asking this question if she’d made any other change in her life before she met you? You love the woman she is now, and that’s all that should matter. If you want kids you can adopt or something.”
I feel so conflicted right now
That awkward moment when Hugh Hefner is more trans-positive than most feminists of the same era.
Strawberry - I’m in love with you.
Cherry - I love you.
Watermelon - I think you’re cute.
Blueberry - You’re amazing.
Kiwi- You’re pretty
Rasberry - You’re hot.
Plum - I would fuck you.
Paopu Fruit - I would date you.
Grapes - I could stay on your blog for hours.
Lemon - You are my tumblr crush.
Orange - I want to get to know you.
Tangerine - We have a lot in common.
Lemon - I wish you would notice me.
Lime - I don’t talk to you but I really love your blog.
Life On Mars? (David Bowie Cover)
"It’s a god-awful small affair,
To the girl with the mousy hair.
But her mommy is yelling, “No!”
And her daddy has told her to go.
But her friend is nowhere to be seen.
Now she walks through her sunken dream.
To the seat with the clearest view,
And she’s hooked to the silver screen.
But the film is a saddening bore.
For she’s lived it ten times or more.”