What Katie Did(n’t) – (What Katie Did Cabaret Torsolette Review)

Last August, I was lucky enough to be chosen as a winner in Undercover Lingerista’s 1-Year Bloggiversary contest. After much squealing and delight, my four prizes were picked, and little by little, three of them showed up at my house. After a few months of waiting (…sometimes post from the UK to the US is slow. I was being optimistic.), my biggest lust item, the What Katie Did Cabaret Torsolette and Back-Seamed Stockings had not arrived. And so, I set to investigating.

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image from If You Please

Let me just say, the vendor that supplied my prize was an absolute dream to communicate with. If You Please is an online lingerie retailer based out of the UK that specializes in supplying lingerie from independent British brands. When I posted my dilemma on their wall (“Halp! My lust item got lost in the world!”), their lovely PR person, Amber, responded immediately. She apologized and offered to re-send my prize immediately. Our communications were wonderful, and my item arrived quickly after that. As far as retailers go, If You Please is definitely a company that I would do business with again!

When my package arrived on Friday, I tore it open gleefully. It was beautifully wrapped in tissue paper and ribbon. (Pretty packaging makes customers happy, other retailers take note.) Once I tore off that tissue paper (because again, no patience or virtues when it comes to pretty lingerie), my heart sank. You see, I ordered my Torsolette in a size 34E, as it is sold by bra-size and is not made in my “usual” size of 34F. I expected the cups to be a little small, but as it is a strapless item, I figured that I could make them work accordingly. What I did not expect was the body opening of the torsolette to be the size of a can of soup…

BUT, before I go on a tear-all about how much loathing I harbor for this item, let me get the positives out of the way:

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Image from What Katie Did

The Cabaret Torsolette by What Katie Did is available in two colors: peach and black. It boasts underwired cups, spiral steel boning throughout the bodice, powermesh to gently hold you in, and six garter clips to hold up your stockings.
Now, I am a slave to What Katie Did’s back-seamed stockings. They are all that is right with the world, in that they do not pinch my ample thighs, are strong but still beautifully sheer, and sexy as all. If I could purchase stock in the company for their stockings alone, I would do so. With this knowledge of their quality in mind, I was particularly excited about my torsolette (which I had salivated over for months before winning my prize), and even though this story does not have a happy ending, I was impressed with the construction of the garment. I would personally classify this garment as a piece of shapewear first and foremost, and unlike most shapewear, it is beautifully constructed and pretty. The peach color was soft and delicate, and would have been perfect under a very sheer pink dress that I own. (The Natalie dress by Pinup Couture, if inquiring minds inquire.)

This is where our love story ends.

When I tore open the packaging on my torsolette, my heart sank as I held it up in the light. No zippers. Not one single, solitary zipper in sight. I was apparently supposed to squeeze my 45″ hips into this soup-can sized opening. Um, no. Alas I was determined. I managed to get the thing over my head, bust and shoulders, and once on, I found it to be quite flattering in the bodice. The one-cup-too-small bra parts were actually a good fit, and I fit smoothly into it even after ample swooping and scooping. The back fastened smoothly, and I found the 34 band to be firm and supportive. Because, you know, I wear a 34 band.
My issue came in garment removal. And by removal, I mean that fucker got stuck. There is nothing more terrifying, mortifying, and heartbreaking then having a garment get stuck on your body. I will be completely honest here. After much struggle I had to CUT the torsolette off of my body.

And after that? I cried. I sobbed into my pillow. I called my girlfriend in hysterics. I started using words that I haven’t spoken in years to describe my body. Fat. Disgusting. Horrifying. Pathetic. Words that I would never, ever utter to another human being, I was saying to myself. That’s sad, ladies and germs, because it is my strong opinion that the clothes we wear are supposed to uplift us and help us feel beautiful. And instead, I was a blubbering, teary mess because some poorly-thought out product broke my heart.

I say poorly-thought out, because I am a curvy girl, and I can not see that product working on anyone with a body like mine. My current measurements are 41-30-45. That’s a fifteen inch difference between my hips and waist. So, by WKD’s design-logic, in order to even have this bra-sized product have a remote chance of fitting over my bum, I’d need to order, in sister sizes: 34E=36DD=38D. A 38D. I would have to add four inches (NO. NO. NO.) to my band size to get this sucker up over my hips, and then I’d be left with what? A strapless basque with no padding, no straps (hence, strapless), two band sizes too big, and absolutely no support for my bust.

Now, I don’t claim to be an expert on lingerie. I am an expert buyer, that’s for damn sure, but I understand that the construction of certain pieces of lingerie can be quite complicated. However, I am currently in the process of stitching back together the tattered messes of my beautiful peach torsolette, AND ADDING A ZIPPER. (Seriously. It cost me 4$ at WalMart.) From my experience thus far, adding a zipper for easier dressing and undressing of this particular item of lingerie is not that complicated. And as of right now, I do not see it messing with the fit or integrity of the design.

You see, Rago Shapewear, a company that specializes in American-made vintage reproduction shapewear and lingerie, is held in high regard by the vintage fashion community. I own and adore the Rago 1294 Extra-Firm Open Bottom Girdle (which I picked up from the folks at Orchard Corset.
(Oh, Orchard Corset, be still my heart. I love them. More on that in the future.)
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image from Orchard Corset

The body briefer comes in the basics: black and white, and retails for a very affordable $58.00 shipped. Orchard Corset also offers a dye option for an additional $10, so that ladies with an eye for color have more than basic options. It features strong, smoothing powermesh, a high waist, open bottom for comfort, six garter clips to hold up your stockings and a zipper for ease and comfort of wear. THAT’S RIGHT FOLKS. A ZIPPER. This is an item of shapewear that is also sexy, functional, and gasp doesn’t make me cry whilst getting into-and-out of it! Who would have thought it possible?!

Putting on your clothes shouldn’t be humiliating, and it shouldn’t be a struggle. Wearing lingerie isn’t supposed to make you feel worse about your body. After the WKD Torsolette fiasco, I set off to the Interwebs and read some reviews of the product. Every one that I read mentioned the product being a struggle to get on and off. Every. Single. One. And that doesn’t tip anyone off? People are in agreement that it’s a pain in their (ample or otherwise) bums to wriggle into and out of this particular garment. I am not alone.

I don’t mean to turn this into a “bash What Katie Did” party. I love What Katie Did for their gorgeous stockings, and their famous Morticia Corset is well-known and adored by many throughout the blogosphere. They strive to provide glamorous, well made vintage reproduction lingerie and are successful in their feat. Even with all my hate, the Torsolette I received was beautifully constructed, and fit me well in the body once I managed to wriggle it on. If not for all the upset that occurred after, this review would have taken a completely different route. But alas, one tiny design flaw ruined it for me, and broke my little heart.

In all, I would not recommend this product to anyone, especially anyone with my body type. There is too much hoopla surrounding “finding the right fit”, and no woman should have to jump through hoops and play a guessing game to find the right fit on a bra-sized product. I will continue to buy my What Katie Did Back-Seamed Stockings in bulk, and I will sing their praises to anyone who will listen. I will still covet that gorgeous Morticia corset, and scrimp my pennies together for an investment well-worth it. I’ll remain a WKD customer, despite my bruised heart. But for my lingerie? I’ll definitely look elsewhere.

Broke Girl Reviews- “Rosa” by Panache

I am a broke girl.
It’s a vicious cycle, really. I have a shopping habit. I have actually worn bits of the electronic swipe on my debit card away. I have a drawer full of lingerie and a closet full of dresses to prove it to you all. Some argue that I need rehab.

The fact that I am a broke girl means that usually, though an item may set my heart a-flutter and get my credit card fingers itching, sometimes I have to do something that I don’t like doing: wait.

So I wait. I stare wistfully at the objects of my desire, with only a glowing computer screen (and a warehouse, and UPS between us. I stalk the internet like an ex-boyfriend on a mission, and when I see that it has been red-tagged into my price range, I snatch-and-grab.

I know I CAN’T be the only lady out there that dances with her wallet this way. Thus, Broke Girl Reviews was born. Sure, there are other reviews. They were done back when the object of my lust was freshly pressed–hanging shiny and new on a hanger. WITH A 50% MARK-UP. Pfft.

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Truly, ain’t nobody got time for that. See, my boobs don’t care if I’m wearing last-season’s sexy bits. (Don’t worry, I asked them, they’re totally cool with it.) My girlfriend wouldn’t know an AW2012 from a SS2009. Her knowledge of lingerie stops at “Ooh, cleavage!”. She likes it that way. I like it that way. I get gorgeous lingerie at half the price, my wallet gets a break, she gets well dressed tit-tays to ogle. Everyone is happy.

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I picked up the Panache Rosa bra from a Facebook swap/sell group catering to busty women for a steal. 27$. (!!!!!!!) With an original retail value of $89.00, the very idea of a 2 followed by a 7 in regards to this brand-new-with-tags item was too good to pass up. With a solid excuse reason to back up my purchase, I messaged the seller and paid so quickly that I actually got a little dizzy. When my package arrived two days later, I snatched it up and ran-like-I-stole-it to my bedroom, because there is no such thing as patience or virtues when it comes to brand spankin’ new lingerie. I needed to get that puppy on STAT. Off with the shirt and on with the new goodies: I fell in love. I could end it right there, but for the sake of being thorough, lets do this:

This bra is BEAUTIFUL. Harlequin by Panache is known for churning out some seriously gorgeous lingerie that oozes class, sass, and just a little dash of sex appeal. This was an Autumn/Winter 2012 piece, and the muted pinks, dusky rose, and pretty greens in the rose-print pattern reflect that beautifully. The cups are moulded and well structured, with a deep-plunge center designed to give soft, subtle cleavage. Matching bottoms in the form of a thong or short were also made available when this bra was released.

I find the band to be firm, but for my particular tastes, I probably should have gone with the 32FF instead of the 34F, as I measure 33″ under my bust. I usually find 32 bands to be more supportive, however the 34 gets the job done wonderfully and doesn’t move around during the day.
The straps–while not fully adjustable–seem to come up short, as they are perfect on my small-ish shoulders, and I still have a bit of wiggle room for adjustment.
The cups gives a subtle, rounded shape. Even though Rosa hasn’t stolen that special place in my heart from my Freya Deco (which I worship, long for, and adore), she is definitely more appropriate for say, a day at work. (When, in my case, in-your-face cleavage would only be seen by hungry babies and thus is a TERRIBLE idea.) The only issue I’ve seemed to have with the shape of this bra’s cups is this: since the gore doesn’t sit quite as high on my chest as that of my Deco Plunge, my (very soft) breast tissue sometimes wiggles its way out of place and needs a firm reminder to “get the hell BACK where you belong”. I don’t really see this as a bra-based issue, but a breast tissue/shape problem, as I have the same spillage with my Curvy Kate Tempt Me: another style with an extremely deep central gore.

Here’s the TL:DR version for those of you without that patience and virtues I talked about before:

-Gorgeous
-Moulded cups, nice shape, subtle cleavage
-Low, plunging central gore
-Firm band, but size up/down according to band firmness preference (as with all bras)
-Non-fully adjustable straps, but still functions well on those with small shoulders
-Did I mention gorgeous?

Here’s the fun part. As a broke girl, I like to help out my FELLOW broke girls. And while I couldn’t find any 27$ (!!!!!) steals for you, I did manage to dig up two listings for this exact model. At 45% off.

Amazon is offering this beauty at 44$ shipped, as is E-bay. (Presumably from the same 5-star seller.)

If you’re anything like me and 44$ is still out of your budgetary constraints…well, make like a crazy ex-boyfriend (or girlfriend, ahem.) and stalk. Last I checked, the internet can’t file a restraining order. πŸ˜‰

Let’s Hear It For The Girls

As I write this, seven month old Emma is passed out in my arms. Each time my hands move across the keyboard, her body jiggles a little from the motion. She doesn’t seem to mind, though. She seems comfortable. Across the room, her three-year-old sister Hannah is cuddled against her pillows on the couch, taking a rest from the activities of this busy Saturday. In the next town over, eight-and-a-half month old Paige and her twin sister Simone are probably sitting on their parent’s laps, as they usually do around this time, eating dinner with the family. Giggles and smiles, demands to be “down” and go as they please. Joy.

Four little girls. Four beautiful, perfect little girls that I hold very dear to my heart.

As a nanny, I tend to constantly be surrounded by children of one sort or another.Today I met a ten-year-old girl. She was the most intelligent, vivacious little lady that I’ve met in a long time. An energetic ball of red hair and freckles, “pleases” and “thank yous”, she was truly a joy to be around. (Nannies love kids with good manners: FACT.) She was the tag-along-friend of sassy Zoe from down the street, who comes over on the weekends to rough house in the yard with Hannah and Emma’s three rough-and-tumble older brothers, and she latched on to me almost immediately. This was a child thirsting for knowledge, and I answered her questions to the best of my ability: Why did you get your tattoos? Did they hurt? Did you go to college? Do you like make-up? Did you dye your hair? Should I dye mine? I like nail polish, do you? All questions from a curious little girl trying to grasp the world around her. And then, she threw out this one:

“Do you think it’s bad to have a big body instead of a small body?”

I stopped what I was doing, and turned around. Looking back at me were two concerned blue eyes, set into the chubby-cheeked face of a sweet little girl with a heart of gold.

“My mommy says I need to have a smaller body, so I need to eat healthier. But I do eat healthy.”

If her mother had been in the room, I probably would have smacked her ’round the head a few times and booted her once in the ass, just for good measure. Because, seriously? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO YOUR KID?!

I support health at any size. I support exercise, and eating good food, and being happy in the body that you have. I don’t support giving a ten year old kid a complex about her shape, when she hasn’t even started DEVELOPING a shape yet. I don’t support telling your kid that she needs to eat healthier, when you, as the parent, are the one in charge of putting food on your child’s plate.

What the fuck are we doing to these kids?! We’re exposing them to a world that, from the youngest of ages, tells them that they are too fat/skinny/ugly/pretty/tall/short/curvy/athletic/well-endowed/flat-chested/overall-not-good-enough-for-anyone. And then, on top of that, we’re telling them to change things that they literally have no control over. (Because, really people, when was the last time you saw a ten-year-old hop in the car, drive herself to Whole Foods, and peruse the organic goods section, sans parental units?) I’ll tell you what is happening. We are body shaming a bunch of little kids. We are body shaming a bunch of little kids, who will grow into women that we will also body shame, because society as a whole is filled with a bunch of dickheads.

It’s bad enough that we’re already letting the world tell our daughters that all they’re good for is standing around and looking pretty. We’re already telling them that their intelligence comes second to whether or not their shoes match their handbags. Now we’re telling them that they have to be thin, well-matched, vapid, and impossibly beautiful/perfect. Essentially, we’re telling them that they aren’t good enough.

Well, fuck that.

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I don’t know about you, but I refuse. I refuse to let the world tell Hannah, Emma, Paige, Simone, Zoe, and sweet-faced Olivia that they will never be good enough. I will tell them every chance I get that they are perfect. And you know why? Because they are. The only way that things are going to change is if we fight back. We need to push back, and let the collective “them” know that the only thing they’re going to get from bullying our girls is a well-deserved, figurative ass-kicking. And if that doesn’t work?

Well then I suppose a real ass-kicking is in order.

Expanding On “Real”

I recently ranted quite a bit about the concept of “Real Women”. It quickly became one of my most-viewed posts, and after it hit the fan, it got me to thinking.
You see, if you’ve been following my blog, you’ll know that I’m a lesbian. A member of the LGBT community, if you will. And within that “LGBT” there is still one group that gets judged, excluded, and generally shit on by the rest of them. (I won’t say “us”, because I don’t tolerate that kind of nonsense, so I obviously don’t take part in it.) Despite all the harsh judgement and inequalities that we face from the Far-Righties and Religious Extremists every single day, there are members of the community that think it’s cool to exclude others simply because they are “different”. I’m talking, of course, about the “T” in that LGBT sandwich. The transgendered community is constantly hassled. Backs are regularly turned on them, because they don’t fit some imaginary standard that we have placed upon ourselves. Even civil right’s organizations like the HRC have ousted them, which is about twenty different kinds of fucked up.

While writing my “Real Women” rage, I made sure to include transgendered women, because it’s the damn truth. Women that are born transgendered are just as real as you and I. But you see, some people disagree with me. (Probably the same assholes who think “real women have curves” and “only dogs like bones”.) These people say that transgendered women aren’t “real women” because they aren’t born into the bodies that match up with their gender identity. I actually overheard someone say that “A woman can’t really be a woman if she’s born with a penis.”
To that guy, and all the others like him, I say: fuck you.

Seriously. Fuck you, dude, because you are a bag of douche. No, you are multiple bags of douche. Making judgmental blanket statements about people that you know literally NOTHING about reserves you a special spot in the 7th Circle Of Hell.
So, you’re wondering how I reacted to hearing this? Well, as you can see, first I got mad. (A special thanks to my wonderful Italian temper, and my sassy aunt.)

After I was done spitting fire and blowing smoke out of my ears, I reached out to these women. Because even though they don’t have a damn thing to prove to jerks like that, they deserve a voice. So, I posted a question on Reddit.com, and a few lovely ladies over there were willing to give some answers to my question:

“What body image issues do you struggle with?”

Their answers ranged. Shoe size. Ribcage size. Hair texture. Inability to gain weight/too much weight. Lack of curves. Body dismorphiya. Too fat. Too skinny. Too tall. Too short.

Sound familiar?

That’s right, folks, transgendered women suffer from the same damn body image issues that cisgendered women suffer from. Shock. Awe. No shit. And do you know why that is? Because, despite their obvious struggles to overcome, they are no different then the rest of us. Regardless of the bodies that they were born into, these women still wake up in the morning and pick out what to wear. They still have bad hair days. They still have low-self esteem days, and days that they feel like a million bucks. They are women, just like the rest of us, and they are the group of women who could arguably be hurt the most by all that “Real Women” rubbish.

They already have the queer community telling them they aren’t “real”.
They already have the heterosexual community, which is sometimes drowning in ignorance, telling them they aren’t “real”.
And on top of all that, they have this “real women have curves” catchphrase telling them that they aren’t real, because sometimes, they don’t have curves.

This, ladies and germs, is why it is so important to crush this idea into a million itty bitty pieces. As a collective group, women need to stop the hating, labeling, scrutinizing, and stereotyping, because if we opened our eyes, we’d see exactly how damaging it is. It isn’t a matter of fat versus skinny anymore, because society has evolved past that. There are more than two different kinds of women, and thus there are more than two different kinds of women that can be hurt by the message behind the “real women” movement. (So seriously, cut that shit out.)

I will repeat it until I’m blue in the face: all women are real women.

I won’t admit to being an expert on the transgendered community. I don’t know the etiquette and I don’t know all of the terminology, but the fact of the matter is, I hold women’s issues very dear to my heart. Inclusivity makes the world go ’round, and I’ve had it up to HERE with one group or another being excluded because they don’t exhibit enough of this or that. And if I didn’t work hard to make sure that all women and their issues are included in my fight, then I’d be doing a half-assed job of it, wouldn’t I?

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photo from GTFOThinspo.com

My Rage About “Real Women”

On Friday morning, a former high-school classmate and Facebook friend shared a photo from ABC 7 Chicago’s page. It was an H&M ad, that featured a size 12 model wearing a bikini.

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“The average size of American women is 12-14. Now clothing retailer H&M is making waves with their recent swimsuit ads featuring a plus-sized model.”

Within 3 days, this photo had been “liked” 393,205 times, shared 16,420 times, and accrued over 26,000 comments.

Twenty six thousand comments. It was the comments section of this photograph that inspired this post, actually, because they were both utterly predictable and enraging:

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Those hastily cropped images are just a taste of the colorful and judgemental commentary. Some weren’t totally atrocious. Some were so abhorrent that I decided to name-and-shame, however “low” that may be considered here on the blogosphere. Listen up, people: if you have the kajones to make disgusting comments like that, you better have the kajones to back it up. So in the case of those assholes: let whatever happens, happen.
I was already prepared when I perused the thousands of opinions attached to the image. In scenarios like this, you predictably get three things: faux-concern for the “fat” person’s health, “gross, you are promoting obesity!”, or some form of “skeletal stick-bugs”, “disgusting anorexic models”, “only dogs want bones!”, “real women have curves”. And there you have it, folks:
“Real women have curves.”
The phrase “Real women have curves” is up there on the list of Top 5 Things I Hate, along with black licorice, unsweetened coffee, religious bigots, and floral-printed denim. I could probably rattle off fifteen reasons why I despise it, first and foremost being that it is utterly offensive to my hordes of robotic female friends. Because, you know, those exist.

(…Do you see what I did there…?)

The word “real” is defined as adjective: actually existing as a thing or occurring as fact; not imagined or supposed. So, the very idea of a type of woman who is somehow less than real is not only ridiculous, it is physically impossible. If she is constructed of atoms, a woman is a woman, whether biologically by birth or otherwise. A fat woman is a real woman. A thin woman is a real woman. A woman with curves is real, as are women without. Athletic women are real women. Trans* women are real women. With these points outlined, I want you to say it with me: All women are real women.
I understand where the “real women” nonsense came from. Really, I do. It was developed years ago as a confidence booster for the larger market, where none existed before. After the word “curvy” became hideously misused as a euphemism for “plus sized”, the “Real Women Have Curves” agenda stepped up as a way to empower plus-sized girls. Except…all it managed to do was pit woman-against-woman. Suddenly, the big girls were hating on the slim girls, and vice versa. And quite frankly, I don’t see how bashing another group of people is up-lifting.
After “Real Women Have Curves” came other phrases that are outright ridiculous. “Men don’t want skin and bones!” is another one that makes me itchy, because not only is it hateful towards slimmer ladies, it is highly misogynistic. Because let me tell you something:I don’t give a flying fart in space what men want, and neither should any woman. My own lesbianism aside, I think it is vital that women realize that they need to please themselves first and foremost. And another heads up, girls: referring to slim ladies as “anorexic stick bugs” or insinuating that thinness is associated with drug addiction is just as bad as people assuming that all large people are large because of an inability to control themselves around a Big Mac.
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The point is, ladies and germs, people need to stop being so fucking judgmental of one another. Slamming a group of people to make yourself feel better is childish. If you are truly comfortable in your own skin, it won’t matter whether someone else has something that you don’t. Stop making assumptions about one another based on appearances alone. Stop falling into that hateful woman-versus-woman trap.

Repeat it until you believe it: ALL WOMEN ARE REAL WOMEN.

And I almost forgot: I have a special shout-out for that “cardiologist” up there in the comments section! If you’re the Andrew Rudin: Cardiologist that I did a quick Google Search on, you need to sit the fuck down and shut your mouth. Because your comment leads me to believe that you have NO IDEA about the Body Mass Index, body proportions, and weight distribution. Someone who is 160lbs, 6 feet tall, and a size twelve is going to have a totally different shape then someone who is 5′ feet tall and the same size. I would also recommend that you pay your child support on time, so that you don’t get your medical license suspended again. Fucker.

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“I Do!” (Not Tolerate Bigots)

Marriage Equality

For me, the subject of Marriage Equality is a hot-button issue. Maybe I missed the window for this discussion, and it’s not “hip” anymore to change your profile picture to a little red “=” and talk about how all human beings deserve equal rights. Regardless, that was then and this is now, and I think it’s important to keep the discussions going.
If you’ve been reading my blog, you’ll notice that there’s usually some in-my-face occurrence that leads me to ramble about any given topic. For this particular topic, it was this little gem:

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Now, if I keep telling you people about how I delete friends from my Facebook list, you’re going to think that everyone I know is a douchebag. Not true, my friends are amazing and I love them dearly. (Hats off to you, friends!) The person who posted THAT, however, did receive a deletion that was swift and sure. It was a serious “screw you!” kind of removal in which I literally typed up a massive rant on his post, deleted it, gave my computer screen the finger and gave that fucker the proverbial boot into cyberspace.

“But Jessica!” You say. “Everyone is entitled to their beliefs! That post wasn’t outright hateful. Why did you cut that person off like a minivan in traffic?”

Because, beautiful readers, what is written on that post is quite possibly the DUMBEST SHIT I HAVE EVER HEARD.

That statement makes not one single, solitary bit of sense. It says: “I’m your friend. I won’t judge you. But I don’t support homosexuality.”
To me, that actually reads this way:
“I won’t judge you, but I don’t support who you are. So really, I’m actually judging you even though I said I wasn’t going to, which makes me both a liar and a hypocrite.”
To me, that post says nothing but “I consider you to be less than me because of who you are. And because I think this, you do not deserve the same rights as me.”
Why would anyone want a “friend” who believes that? I certainly don’t.

I’m sure this post will ruffle a few feathers. A lot of Christians* use the Bible as a reference point for their bigotry. But listen here. I went to catholic school. I can sling bible versus with the best of them. But to my knowledge, the whole basis of the Good Book is “treat others as you want to be treated” and “judge not lest ye be judged”….
…But we conveniently forget that when we don’t agree with something, don’t we? We paraphrase the book, take what we want, and screw you to the other parts that are inconvenient to us.

“But Jessica!” Some of you might say. “Being gay is a choice. You are choosing to go against the word of God.”

As much as I hate using cliched arguments, riddle me this: when did you decide to be heterosexual? Have you involved yourselves with another man (for the guys), or a hottie lady (for my girls), just to be sure that you are truly heterosexual?

(I could write a series of blog posts on that topic alone. It makes my blood boil. A man once asked my girlfriend if she had ever tried having sex with a man, just to be sure she was gay. Her response was much more polite and ladylike then mine would have been, which is something along the lines of: “Hey buddy, why don’t you take your own advice, start handing BJs out like candy, and let me know how that goes for you, ok?”)

I did not choose to be gay. I AM. And honey, I DID try men. The big “D” is not my cup of tea, thanks, so take that little nugget and go somewhere. I don’t know any homosexual person who chose to have a life more difficult then others. People don’t like to be discriminated against, dummy. I chose to be gay the same way that you chose to be straight. Dig it?

Here’s the thing: there is supposed to be a clear and definite Separation of Church And State in our government. So if someone could please tell me why the whole basis of a lot of anti-gay lawmakers and citizens argument is “because it’s a sin”.

Uh…”Separation of Church and State…”

If that’s your argument, I don’t think you realize what that phrase means…

So let me educate you! It means:

Keep your god-damned**religion OUT of my civil human rights. Keep it out of my government. Keep it out of my constitution. Keep it to yourself.

*not all! My best friend in the world is Roman Catholic, and has never preached to me a day in her life. This post is for the ignorant or extremist Christians. You other guys are cool in my book.)

**pun not completely intentional, but valid nonetheless.