June 6th is Gay Day at the Walt Disney World Resort and people, The Florida Family Association are up in arms!  Last year the FFA hired a plane to circle the Magic Kingdom with a banner “warning” patrons that the day was in fact gay.

Personally, I’d prefer a flying alert about the exhorbitant parking fees, but  hey, we all pick our battles.

According to their website, the FFA’s primary complaint seems to be that queer folk being queer at Disney is a SUPER-bummer!  That may not sound like a big deal but they ask us to consider the following:

How would you feel if you entered the Magic Kingdom anticipating a normal day of fun with your family only to witness thousands of same-sex couples holding hands, hugging, kissing and wearing tee-shirts that promoted their lifestyle?

Whoa. I totally did NOT think of it that way. Nothing ruins a day of family fun like gentle affection and TEE-SHIRTS!

The FFA goes on to report:

VERY LOW ATTENDANCE BY FAMILIES AT THE MAGIC KINGDOM Florida Family Association’s team in the park has never witnessed a day at the Magic Kingdom where so few mainstream families were in attendance.  The team estimates that attendance by mainstream families was down approximately 50% to 60% over the average attendance of the last ten years.  Because of the significant reduction of mainstream families in the park Gay Day patrons’ appearance was much more visible…there were only about twenty people in line for tickets at 1 pm on a beautiful mild day in Central Florida.

I’m torn. Because on the one hand, SHORT LINES – WOOHOO! But on the other hand, mainstream families are pretty effective at obscuring queer people. Without them, gay people are free to just walk around being all VISIBLE and shit!

But what really cements the Family Association’s beef, are a series of photos from last year’s Gay Day which prove CONCLUSIVELY that queer people exist. Check it:


Also? TEE SHIRTS!!!!

Won’t someone PLEASE think of the children?

Congratulations FFA, you have nailed it! Gay people go to vacation destinations, where they can be seen in pre-shrunk cotton shirts. Audacious, I know. But instead of spending your hard-earned money on airplane signage and using your precious energy to fuel your outrage, may I suggest an easier, less expensive, less jackass-y perspective on the situation:

Queer people exist. Get over it.

Over the years I’ve amassed a large collection of vibrators and each one is special in it’s own way.  I’ve assured all of them that they are equally loved but secretly there one I adore most of all –  The Lelo Liv.

Lelo is a Swedish manufacturer specializing in high quality vibes and other sexy things.  Liv is one of Lelo’s most popular products and no wonder — this beauty is a cunt rockin’ superstar with an impressively long list of pros:

  • The tapered tip is great for focused clitoral and perineal stimulation
  • The long smooth shaft is great for vaginal penetration
  • Forget about hunting for a fresh pack of Duracells when the mood strikes. The Liv has a rechargable battery that lasts for 4-hours.
  • The variable speed control means you can enjoy anything from a gentle massage to spine rattling wanking.
  • The variable pulse control lets you mix things up and experience rhytyms that the human body just can’t replicate.
  • It’s quiet.
  • It’s designed with non-porous silicone and high quality plastic, which makes it super easy to clean.
  • It comes in three gorgeous colours – Dark pink, lime green and navy blue.
  • It’s easy to hold.
  • It’s got a slight curve, just like most vaginas.
  • And it comes with a one year warranty!

There are a couple of cons. It doesn’t have a flared base, so it doesn’t make a great anal toy.  And price-wise it’s somewhat costly at around $130 CDN. That having been said, if you have the means, this toy is worth saving your allowance for!

All of my vibrators have their own place in my nightstand and my heart. But my Lelo Liv is everything I’ve ever wanted in a vibrator and more; a marvel of engineering and supreme provider of orgasms. I can’t help but play favourites. Hopefully the other toys understand.

Your vulva is too hairy. And saggy. And dingy.

Also? Your vagina is a bit of a cave.

Like the rest of our bodies, our cooters can be customized to our exact specifications – provided of course you have the money and access to the cosmetic application/procedure of your choice.

You can remove a little, a lot or all of your pubic hair through shaving and/or waxing. You can nip and tuck your lips via labiaplasty. You can tighten up the inner works with vaginal rejuvenation surgery. You can even lighten and brighten your cooch with racist horror cream topical skin ligthening.

Confession: I make cosmetic adjustments to my appearance for completely superficial reasons on pretty much a daily basis. I apply moisturizers in the hopes that it will preserve some semblence of youthful elastiscity in my skin. I spend a lot of time and money to have my hair straightened. I wear make-up. Once a month, a portion of my modest salary goes towards having my labial folicles striped of hair. So really, I have no right to judge.

I have no right to judge because I myself participate in cosmetic culture. More importantly I have no right to judge because what other people choose to do with their bodies isn’t my business. Unfortunately, I am prone to moments of inner judgement – especially around racist horror cream the skin lighteners – but that’s as much about my own body image triggers as it is about OMG THE HORRIFYING RACISM product.

What I do take issue with is that many of these products and services are sold under the guise of, “Dude, there’s something WRONG with your vag.” And yes, that’s the shilling point for most cosmetics, but somehow it feels extra mean when that message is aimed at my crotch.

Here’s an excerpt from a local salon’s FAQ about brazilian bikini waxes:

Many women opt and even request a Brazilian wax because it gives a neat, clean appearance.

Except pubic hair isn’t dirty or messy. That’s my garage. I’ve yet to see a person with a winter’s worth of car salt and an overflowing recycle bin in their bush. Pubes are normal. It’s just hair, like all the other hair on the other parts of our bodies. If you like it, keept it. If you don’t, by all means get rid of it – but let’s not make this into some sort of hygiene/housekeeping issue!

Here’s the lowdown from a popular plastic surgeon known for performing “Designer Laser Vaginoplasty”.

Although hidden, a woman’s genitalia can still be a source of shame and discomfort when its appearance is less than favourable. Designer Laser Vaginoplasty® is the name for a broad range of trademarked procedures designed to improve the aesthetics of female genitalia. It can treat asymmetry and any other aesthetic problem related to this area.

Finally – a treatment for asymmetry. For those of you who don’t know, asymmetry has reached pandemic levels, affecting vulvas around the world. In fact, it’s so common…it’s common. Some might even say “okay” and “totally not weird”. Which isn’t to say you can’t restyle them if it’s going make you happy. But labia aren’t like shoes – they don’t have to match.

And there’s we have the next evolution of racist horror cream, skin lightening products: cunt lightening body wash. This appears to be a product out of India, where apparently dark nethers are the leading cause of marital discord.

My own bits – like the rest of me – are pretty colour rich. I’d better get me some wash, before The Man of Mans dumps my brown ass for fairer pastures!

Ultimately it’s your body and you do what you want with it. Just know that your whether you like it altered or au naturel – your v’gee is all good!

This week I’ve mostly been dressed like this…

Be-penguined pants!

The unsexy clothes are due to a very un-sexy  cold that’s left me feeling like this:


While the rhinoviral spores and my immune system battle for supremacy, I’ve taken comfort in tea and an exciting new proposition.  The lucious ladies of Rockalily Burlesque invited me to join their ranks officially, an offer that I happily accepted.

I’m a straight up burlesquer! Legit, yo!

So this week I’m in big and baggy sick-day style but once I kick the cold, I’ll be spending a lot more of my time (un)dressed like this:

Photo by John Finnigan Lin

This week I feel sexy in…

Hoodie: Old Navy. T-shirt: Aritzia (thrifted). Skirt: Land's End. Tights: Roots. Shoes: Aldo (thirfted). Initial pendant (gifted from Stephanie).


When it comes to pattern, I’m a big fan of geometrics in general and I have had a long, enduring attraction to stripes in particular.

I have what some would describe as a “feminine” style. I wear a lot of dresses, skirts and body conscious silhouettes. Very occasionally I’ll go for hardcore hardcore girlish and opt for florals, but more often I like a crisp, cleans stripe to inject some balance and keep my looks out of twee territory.

Plus, all sorts of sexy people wear stripes: Yatching tycoons! Candy stripers! Field hockey goalies!

Jacket: RW & Co. T-shirt: Threadless. Skirt: Sandra Angelozzi (thirfted). Shoes: John Fluevog.

If I’m wearing stripes on my bottom half, I often (but don’t always) opt for pieces with narrow, vertical lines, like the pinstripes on this skirt. I’m slender with an hourglass shape. Large and/or horizontal stripes on the bottom maginfy my hips and my butt, which already the widest part of my body.

Like I said. I don’t *always* go for the skinny-mini stripes. Sometimes girl wants to show off that badonkadonk!  Am I right?

Sweater and jeans: Old Navy. Boots: Miz Mooz. Hat: Clearance bin at Edleweiss Ski Resort.

Once I had a wardrobe consultation with Jes Lacasse. When she saw the number of lined garments in my closet, she suggested I take a break from buying stripes for awhile.

I tried. But a few weeks later I saw the sweater picture above. I thought, ‘It’s okay. I can handle. After all, it’s just a striped heart…that doesn’t even really count.’ But I was in denial. The sweater was a gateway stripe. I have purchased many, many, MANY striped items since. I’m unlikely to stop anytime soon. Sorry, Jes.

Now that the sun is out later than 3 p.m. We’re back to the outdoor shots. The light in our house really isn’t awesome for iPhotos, so I’m happy to have some clearer pictures. I’ll be happier still when spring arrives with some warmer temperatures!

Baby, it's COLD outside!

picture via Picasa

Due to recent family developments, I’m in the midst of  full-scale sentimental-parent overload.

The Green Bean has a CRUSH!

Last week, the little girl in “the other” kindergarten class captured my son’s attention and affections. According to The Green Bean she is “SO cute. And the BEST jumper ever!” Apparently she is also ensconsed a strict social circle that only includes other girls. Poor Bean was daunted by the prospect of penetrating the mini-klatch and declaring his feelings, so he asked The Man of Mans and I for advice.

“I likes her a REALLY lot, Mummy!” NAAAAWWWWW! I am dying of cute y’all!

So The Man of Mans and I have been dolling out the love tips. We’re trying to keep it five-year-old simple, but the more we discuss it, the more I realize the lessons apply regardless of age:

1. If you like someone, find them and tell them, “Excuse me. I like you very much.”

2. If you’re too shy to tell them face-to-face, find another way. With a poem, in a letter or maybe a Transformers card with extra-specical stickers!

3. Always use good manners with a crush. For example, if they are about to go down the slide offer to clean the sand off for them first.

4. Don’t be afraid to let your feelings show. Smile at your crush. Say “hello”. Climb the monkey together. Invite them for a playdate.

5. Tell your crush why you like them. Let them know they are the smartest person you’ve met, your favourite person to talk to, the BEST jumper ever!

Armed with this advice, The Bean went to school today, jack up on that old lovestruck combo of exhiliration and fear, as he prepared for his first forray into love. But he was brave, our Bean. He confessed his true feelings to his little love, who accepted his proposition to hold hands in the yard tomorrow. Which brings us the final lesson:

6. Hold hands. It’s the nicest.

Once upon a time, I had a crush on a boy at my school. My subtle attempts at flirting and admittedly ridiculous “moves ” did not get the job done. So I  gathered my courage, called my crush and told him, “I like you very much.”  That was sixteen years ago today and I’m very, very glad I did.

I think The Man of Mans is too. 😉

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!

Image via: exceedingthespeedlimit.typepad.com

“You can’t let other people determine your self worth”.

I did a Google search to find out who said that. Turns out a lot of people have. I’m not sure who first planted the seed, but the idea has blossomed and spread like kudzu across blogs, websites, magazines and self-help books, especially those aimed at women.

Wiser people than I have written extensively on the idea of self-esteem and how to fuel it from within. The prevailing philosophy, as I understand it, can be nutshelled thusly: You must believe in your own awesomeness. Only then, will you be truly awesome.

The same theory is often applied to feeling sexy. In order to be sexy, you have to see yourself as such. I’m down with the notion that authentic sexiness and self-esteem in general has a certain sustainable authenticity when it comes from within. I also agree that handing over all your power to other people and letting them decide how you should feel about yourself isn’t the best idea. But speaking for myself, I’m pretty comfortable letting people influence my perception of myself as sexy, especially in a positive way.

Once upon a time, an ex-boyfriend of mine looked me in the eye and said to me “You’re beautiful”. This was at time in my life when my self-esteem was pretty low. I did not think of myself as pretty or cute or anything even resembling beautiful. But when this person, who was my first true love, said the words, I believed that he truly saw me as beautiful, even though I didn’t see myself that way.

It made me realize that other people weren’t looking at me with the same hyper-critical lens that I did. And it made me realize that generally speaking, the people who love and care for me will often see the best in me.

And as for that harsh inner-critic…

I think people, women especially, have to be careful about validating self-deprication of our appearance and how it relates to our sexual desirability, I also think it’s normal to get critical with ourselves from time to time. We’re with ourselves. All. The time. Think of the person you love most in the world. Now imagine spending literally every second of your life with them. There would certainly be times that that wonderful person would irritate the crap out of you. There would be times that they would irrate, annoy, anger, embarrass and humiliate you and you’d just want them to go away.

Sometimes I can’t imbue my spirit with inner sexiness. Sometimes I’m just not that into myself. And on those days, if The Man of Mans comes home and the look of lust in his eyes, I will happily let his opinion boost my self-esteem.

I’m also a human in a body that has off days. Some days, I’ve eaten something weird or I haven’t had enough sleep or I’m fighting a cold and I don’t feel entirely comfortable in my skin. I might be hormonal, menstrual or some other thing that makes it hard to look in the mirror and say “Day-um, woman! You’re a BRICK HOUSE!” I was feeling decidedly off-kilter prior to my last burlesque performance. But when I got on stage and a supportive crowd cheered for my body, that external validation felt hella-good!

There are days that I do feel lovely and desirable. There are days that I absolutely don’t. But I can borrow a cup of good feelings from a fliratious exchange with a trusted friend or respectful stranger; from A heartfelt compliment from a friend or the salacious overtures of my partner.

All of these experiences remind me that others can see us as desirable, wonderful, sexy creatures even when we don’t see ourselves that way. And while I don’t let other people determine my self-worth, I will let them influence it in a positive way. And I’m okay with that.