So funnily enough, despite my bemused ramblings regarding labels, I have found one that has struck me like a tuning fork. (Cue drooling dogs.)
You can thank Sinclair for that one. Talk about a term that nails me on the head.
Then I came across this post by Essin’em on the Femme’s Guide to Everything and it got me thinking more about the concept. I’m still unclear on the exact differences between femme and feminine (although I know they’re there), but the idea of wearing a dress and heels – or, conversely, sweats and a tee, such as what I’m wearing now – and still kicking ass and taking names makes me want to pump my fist and shout, “HELL YEAH!”
The finest example of this (besides the darling Essin’em herself) would be my mother. I couldn’t really tell you whether she’s femme or feminine (maybe both?) but she certainly kicks ass in her cute skirts and cleavage-showing tops. That cute purse she’s carrying? Yeah, it contains no less than four weapons meant to inflict serious damage should anyone try to fuck with her without permission. This just makes me swell with pride. My mom kicks ASS.
ANYWAY! Back on topic. I seemed to fall into the more femme role – or rather, my androgynobutch girlfriend just brings it out in me – but it felt incomplete somehow. How the hell could I be a femme when I’m such a… well, a tomboy?
Well, there you go! I can do it all! I can be a kick ass multitasking tomboy femme. AND, on top of it all, I can wrap these labels around me without letting them take me over and drown me. I AM the labels; they are not me. (Oh, how cheesy.)
Also, I am becoming more and more interested in a harness. I’m in love with this one – only I think I’d have to get it in black. The idea of not only fucking my girlfriend with a cock, but being a femme who fucks my butch girlfriend with a cock – that just tickles me pink.
This rapidly unfolding world before me is unceasingly fascinating, and I think the ride’s going to be a lot of fun.