These images of cisgendered, scantily-clad females reclining salaciously with books with quotes touting ownership do very little to promote reading and much more to bolster sexism and classism.
reading
grammar
There’s nothing cute about desperately clinging to the finer nits of adverb use and misuse, and there’s nothing noble about publicly shaming people for grammatical gaffes and typos.
money
DIY is not always cheaper. Or better. Or sustainable. Or even very much fun.
food
According to my doctor, a person with a broken bone needs as many calories as a “very active” person during the healing process -– and, at least in my case, my body has responded with a deep and abiding hunger. Smart move, body.
friendship
I meet a nice girl or boy. We hit it off, and I get friend-butterflies (frienderflies!) and begin to think, "Could this be it? Could this be my new best friend??" But then, casually, s/he will drop the best friend bomb.
fun
I send out printed invitations by actual snail mail for my parties, make or commission psychotically complicated cakes and construct elaborate themes so that I have an excuse to wear tutus and tiaras and rhinestones. I'm the only grown-up I know who does this.
leggings
I mocked the shit out of the rich bitches that wore super fancy yoga gear: technical fabrics, racer-back-built-in everything, SKORTS. Then I bought a pair of super-fancy yoga pants.
nail art
Unfortunately, there is no obvious way to cure the sad plight of the invisible femme lesbian short of fingerbanging your girlfriend in public. Until now.
straight people
A queer space, however temporary, is the one space that’s both physically and emotionally safe -- where, for once, heterosexuality isn’t assumed, and queer people are the default.
relationships
Generally speaking, people are wildly passionate about their own locations. The problem is this: Limiting yourself geographically is also limiting experientially.
eating
From the moment I’m seated at a restaurant, I feel like all eyes are on me.
lesbians
Partners are second-wave feminist dykes who wear tool belts and mom jeans and fanny packs and have permed mullets and make their own flavorless soymilk from scratch. We are not those lesbians.
