I will not be censored

I posed a question to my dear twitter followers the other day. I felt that it was appropriate to ask because with my recent interludes on fashion and beauty I wanted to make sure that my new readers (Hi, guys) would feel included in whatever shenanigans I'm up to. I asked, "How would you feel if I talked about sex on the blog?" Overall, there was a reverberating, "We really could care less if you do or don't!" response. I love that. It's a nice post-modernist approach and very live and let live. Fantabulous. 

Guys, in my circle of friends people often tell me how wonderfully classy I am. They remark on the glamour that goes into the outfits, the hair and the make-up. It's great, isn't it? Seeing a lady under the age of 60 who appreciates a nice set of pearls. Sometimes when they see the other side of me they're not sure how to combine the two. Queer, feminist and outspoken? Curses like a sailor? Always speaks her mind? That doesn't quite go hand in hand for many people. 

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The best example I can think of is my little journey into the world of tattoos. I've always loved them, my dad is absolutely covered in them and I have never judged anybody based on how much ink covers their body. However, because it is a very fine art to me I am quick to judge a bad tattoo. My new favourite pet peeve is people who get anchors tattooed as a reminder to stay afloat. There are numerous floatation devices out there, most more attractive than a common pool noddle, but an anchor is most certainly not one of them!

As a Libra I care an awful lot about other people's opinions and have never, ever been able to make up my own mind about anything without proper research before hand. Thus I sent L to work and asked her to question our friends on how they'd feel about me getting that big, bad, colourful sleeve I've been dreaming of. The verdict? Not good. I'm too classy they said. Too refined. Too understated. I hung my head in shame a little. After all, how could I forget that I'm simply not that kinda gal?

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But what if I am? What if I'm the kinda gal that is comfortable with a pencil skirt, but also comfortable with jeans and a t-shirt? Tattoos and pearls? Books and movies? Feminist and housewife? Lesbian but comfortable with trans* men (if you'd like to call me out on this can of worms I'm happy to elaborate)? I'm educated, well spoken, but trust me, the words cunt and fuck do not make me blush. I'm tired of finding websites dedicated to what it takes to be a classy lady only to find that they don't swear, don't have sex, can't giggle at a dirty joke (toilet humour is not my thing personally), can't enjoy a beer etc.. What I'm discovering is that there is a whole world of censorship out there and each new person you meet will want to dump a whole new set of rules on you. I'm cool with holding my tongue a bit more around older generations and with doing my very best not to drop the f-bomb in a feminist rant during sociology, but this is my little spot on the internet and I do not wish to censor myself. 

In the words of a new musical I discovered recently, which equals the road blocks on a journey of artistry to vampires sucking out your energy:

The air-freshener vampire doesn't want you to write about bad language, blood, or blow jobs. She wants you to clean it up and clean it out, which will leave your work toothless, gutless, and crotchless.

Do you have people like that in your life? When is it best to conform and when to stand up for yourself? Have I scared you off yet? Has my mother discovered this blog yet and found out that it's definite her daughter writing because of the face she's seeing to the right?

Toodles,

Nina