Not sure what to call this, maybe 'Identity drift'? Rattled off whilst taking a break from coursework. I'd add that in actuality I'm not in any kind of crisis about my identity, I find it more amusing than stressful that there isn't any label that neatly covers who I am now.
Sometimes I sit here wondering
just what the heck I am;
I used to be so feminine,
I just don't understand
Quite how I got to be here,
It really is quite weird -
When I contemplate it,
I feel a little queer.
I was a disco dolly,
Size 14 and so glam.
I loved the clothes and makeup,
A stereotypical femme.
I thought that that was me for life,
And that I'd never change;
I confess, I'd never have guessed
That life could be so strange.
I had problems overeating
From life-related stress,
So as my age increased
so did the sizing of my dress.
Until one day, I found derby;
It looked to be such fun
I signed up with a gym to lose
A pound or forty-one.
Several months later,
My skirts no longer fit,
So i bought jeans to wear to work,
But felt a proper tit -
I mean, myself in trousers,
It surely can't be so?
I look a proper tomboy,
and hardly femme OH NO!
As the months rolled by, I got used to
My new and trimmer look;
A jeans and tanktop derby girl
Who didn't give a f**k.
They one day, I realised,
My eyesight's now so bad
I can't do femme makeup no more -
That made me feel quite sad.
One day, as I watched girls go by,
I noted with a start
I now don't quite identify
With femmes - it broke my heart!
But I know I'm not a butch,
of that I am quite sure;
I just don't know quite what I am,
Or how to end this verse... Uhhh.. heh... (grin)
Oh fellow dykes, please help me,
So when shove comes to push,
I can proudly say that I'm
A bemme or a futch.
The trouble is, I've no idea,
So tell me what you think;
The changes in my identity
Are drivng me to drink!
Last edited by Esme nha Maire; 10-15-2017 at 07:09 AM.
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