I am a woman who loves being a woman and loves being with a woman who loves being a woman.
My Love is a woman who loves being a woman and loves being with a woman who loves being a woman.
And by “woman”, I mean “traditionally feminine woman”. Brainwashed by the heteronormative patriarchy? A PhD engineer and a woman with an advanced quantitative degree and the founder of a successful enterprise? A couple of highly successful women in overwhelmingly male fields? If you say so.
We both wear dresses or skirts to work every day. We wear them on weekends, too, unless we’re doing something that calls for something a little more rough-and-ready.
She wears designer shifts and sheaths, which she has subtly tailored. She wants to send the message that a woman is in charge. She wears flats, except when she wears her cowgirl boots.
I wear Brooks Brothers button-down shirts, pencil skirts and loafers. I dress that way for Miss B.
I’ve never seen my Love wear anything with a heel higher than her cowgirl boots. I don’t wear heels.
We wear makeup. Not much, though. You’d never notice it.
She wears her hair shoulder-length. Mine is bobbed at the neck and tucked behind the ear.
We are feminine, but neither of us is girly.
When we’re out West, we wear Pendleton shirts and blue jeans. It’s not lesbian code, however; it’s what everybody wears.