Gypsy sometimes wondered what it was like to live inside the pink box…and play with those pretty things. At least it would distract from this monochrome life.
Located not so long ago in the 20th Century, the story goes like this - a young boy finds lust and love in the company of a classmate at the ashram where he holes up with a brood of other boys and manly monks.
Honestly, he’d have preferred to read a book, or perhaps sketch. The male form was his specialty.
Muttering under my breath, and ignoring a steadily mounting headache, I carefully slipped on my gown. The bell was still buzzing, and it had been a straight ten minutes!
Be warned, these might not be the glamorous answer you were looking for. But even though my stones aren’t real diamonds, they sparkle more brightly.
I for one try not to hate people for finding drag uncomfortable, because hate is a useless and damaging emotion. I see this story instead as an attempt to build conversation around the phobia.
In my 27 years of existence, I’ve embodied various personas and roles. Even today, I behave slightly differently in the office, around parents, at a party and when I’m alone in my room.