Every time a guy tells me how unfortunate it is that I’m a lesbian because I’m so hot, I add another line to my epic slam poem entitled “I Don’t Care About Your Boner.” It’s a real thing, and when it gets long enough, I’ll perform it for you guys.
It’s going to be a Homer-esque epic.
Sing, O muse, of the rage of the lesbian, daughter of Sappho, that brought countless ills upon the straight cis dudes.
i think freckles, stretch marks, tattoos, bruises and birthmarks are probably the coolest thing, you started with almost a blank canvas and look at u now, all this evidence that you’ve lived and the sun has shone on you and you’ve grown and maybe tripped up a few times and liked an image so much u made it a permanent part of u!! beautiful!!!