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don't mess with me

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

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This is what I am. I am a self-made woman. I conjure myself out of every sparkling, fast moving thing I see. I am the creator of myself.

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what im wearing: boohoo pinstripe blazer & slacks, wallis turtleneck, mini chanel bag, zero uv sunglasses & karen millen suede court heels

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Don’t mess with me. Don’t talk down to me. Don’t cat call me from across the street. Do not touch me on the metro. Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do. I have breasts, long hair that I like to toss in the wind and a heart that explodes with emotions every few hours, everyday. I like makeup, wardrobes bursting with clothes and expensive perfume. I giggle at puppies on the streets and cry reading sad books. These things make me a woman. But they don’t define me nor do they limit my abilities. I can hide my hips in baggy slacks, cram my chest into a turtleneck and scrap my hair back behind my head, because, I can be a man too. I can be as much of a man as any man. And I’ll wear earrings just so I can be both, two pearls on each ear, one for the man in me and one for the woman I am.

I work hard, my business is small but it’s all my own. I have dreams to achieve and words to write and goals that keep me right here, resisting and demanding to be both, to have it all. I can be the man I want to marry, I can be the woman wife I’d love to be one day. I can be strong even when I feel weak. I demand respect because I am respectful. I am powerful because I take power by the fist. I require fairness because I am fair. This isn’t a vague,  inconsistent  kaleidoscope, this is a solid black line – and I am walking all over it. Let us all walk all over it – trample, squash and crush the hell out of it.

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