2016 Liberation of Boobs

I’m walking Quinn and we had to sprint past a very angry sprinkler for the length of one house and in that short burst, My bra decided it’d had enough of this gd shit (didn’t sign up for this level of jiggling, etc) and starting with the left strap, began to shimmy it’s way off of my body.

And until 2016 I was willing to take one for the team and sign on to my responsibility for making America “decent”; before then protecting the world from my nipple (or period blood or any normal thing that occurs that isn’t indecent at all just part of my body you stupid shaming shit) was just doing my part to protect society from my personal freak show. But after being called names, told to “hand in my woman card” and other variations by Dem women and men for supporting Bernie then going on to vote for Hillary/corporate Dem and still having to swallow a racist, inheritance-sucking, sexually-assaulting asshole as president, the ship loudly crashed into the shore of upholding patriarchy’s delicate sensibilities about my bod.

Because at that point I realized that if the world wanted me to be decent, it wouldn’t reward my former conformity with this huge pile of leveled-up bullshit. Where it says it wants to be decent (and I’m quickly sold some dignity) when what it really wants is control.

And after that, my new rule was that no one gets to make my rules and I released myself from the idea that my body was a walking public health crisis.
So if you’re prone to freak out at such things as I head down 4th Ave wearing contempt, a nip slip and some spider veins, then look away.

For my body isn’t your business at all and excuse you but maybe a little privacy while I tuck my boob back in and also give me a few extra secs because my bra is kinda pissed.

Quinn doesn’t judge and neither should anyone else. WWQD.

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