Dyke Style Update!

Ciao, fags.

It happened like this...

I was waiting in line for breakfast at the Embassy Suites in Pasadena. 

There was a tall, blond businessman ahead of me. 
He ordered an
"Egg Beaters omelette, no cheese, no butter, all veggie.  No meat.  Oh, and no hash browns, either."

As he received his food, I stepped up, held out my tray, and said,

"I don't need an omelette - I just want a giant plate of meat and hash browns, please."

A whole plate with mini-sausages, bacon, and little potatoes! All for me!  I love love love being a grownup. 

Then I blended maple syrup, ketchup, and black pepper into a delicious sauce and drizzled it over the whole mess.

 The blond businessman watched me in envy.

As I reached for the orange juice and coffee, he said, 

"Man, that looks good.  That's what I really want for breakfast.  But my wife would kill me if I ordered that."

I laughed, and without thinking, said,

"Dude, my wife would kill me if she saw this.  But she ain't here, is she?"

Kinda felt like one of the boys, you know?

 The businessman stared at me. 

Silence.

THEN!!!
He looked me up and down, nodded to himself, and muttered,

"Makes sense."

Then he took his tray and left.

YES!!!!!

Recognized as a gay! 
It's a red-letter day. 

When you're a femme and blend in with the straight girls, you have to work really hard to be oppressed. 

I never get recognized as gay unless I'm with my favorite lil' piece, CJ!  Or other gay-lookin' friends. 
Perhaps this is the true reason behind my obsession with lesbians.  If an important part of my identity is being gay, and I only feel like that identity is publicly acknowledged when I'm around other dykes, could it be that my unending search for queers is...only a search for myself??  Ho-lee sheee-it. 

So what gave me away today?  What "made sense" for the businessman?  Why'd it click in his head?

Naturally, I started to analyze my outfit.

• Nothing dykey about my blue dress. 
• Nothing homo about my black leggings. 
• Big hoop earrings - could go either way. 
• Lip ring taken out for work, so no giveaways there.  
• Hair a fucking mess, lip gloss, mascara - what?

Why should Mr. Businessman have said it made sense? 

Then it hit me - maybe it was the boots.

I was wearing some seriously dykey boots. 

Wanna see?

Here they are!

Got 'em yesterday at Macy's.  It was a helluva sale - $42 marked down from $139! 

Another greedy whore lady had her paws all over these boots when it was clear they were too small for her. 

I "helped" her find a more appropriate style and snatched the boots away from her.  Annnndthosearemine,bitch.

Q:  What's so dykey about those?

A:   What!  Only everything.  Boots like these are so gay, they were probably handcrafted in a woman-owned cobbler's shop (that pays a living wage) in Provincetown, using humanely-treated, pasture-raised, grass-fed, vegetable-dyed cow leather. 

Q:  No. Seriously.  What's so gay about them?  They're just motorcycle boots.  Anyone can wear motorcycle boots.

A:  Yes, but there's only a few types of women that wear motorcycle boots.  These women are:

1) Lesbians

2) Harley-Davidson freaks

3) Feminists in college (so lesbians)

4) Germans (and therefore lesbians)

This means that if you are wearing motorcycle boots and not currently on the back of a hog/at Sturgis, you.are.a lesbian.

Get it?  Motorcycle boots are for muffdivers.

In closing, if you remain unconvinced, just ask yourself:

What do these pictures have in common?

Ahahaha I told you so.