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I yearn for the day that I’ve retired from my day job- I’ve made my money in the stock market and now I can buy a house, stay home, garden, paint, spend my days playing music for my kittens and waiting by the door with flowers for my hardworking wife. I’ll wash the dishes after dinner, and I’ll join her on the couch by the fire. Holding her, and wanting nothing more.

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quarantine is the perfect time to zen garden!

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I really want a penpal. Another fem i can talk to and send cute things from my garden and have some good old-fashioned correspondence with. A fem-pal, if you will.

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like or reblog this if you’re a tradfem, vintage, or high fashion blog!

hi i’m destiny and i’ve been sort of on a bit of a self discovery lately. i’ve decided i’ll finally start using this blog consistently so i need more people to follow

please like/reblog if you post the following (doesn’t have to be all of them) so i can follow you!

- cats

- cute things in general tbh

- vintage fashion/aesthetic

- runway & high fashion

- glamor

- homesteading/homemaking

- natural hair

- self care

- traditional femininity

- womanly advice

- architecture

also feel free to message me, i love making friends :)

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every single time I wake up and roll over!

ever just see a girl and fcukin lose the ability to exist because i have transcended like 7 astral planes just today and i might be stuck in an alternate dimension or something. do you thin k a doctor can help with th is or am i just stuck in yearn dimension in i dont know what year or anything aa

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Quite honestly, I just want to get away from it all. Here’s where I would be happiest.

To be a housewife and homemaker on a small, quiet farm in the northwestern United States

To have children who I have raised to be as in love with tranquility as I am

To have a husband or wife who takes away my fears and loves me as I am

To have two cows, ten chickens, a goat, several cats, and a dog

To have a garden I work hard in to provide for my family

To cook all the nice things

To bake all the nice things

To find who we are with no blatant outside influence

Here’s hoping.

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butch lesbians that aren’t conventionally attractive deserve just as much love and respect as your soft-boy ruby rose lesbians. give me rough hands, wrinkled faces, graying roots, sunburns, bellies, stocky bodies and loud voices, give me dykes that do not apologize and make no concessions for their queerness. show me the butches that don’t want to hear about society’s standards for the ‘acceptable’ level of androgynous. celebrate them.

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Am I gay or bi?

It’s a question that plagued me for years- I saw the strong hands and forearms of a foodrunner at an old job, watched him clear my 30+ pound trays with ease, and concluded I am attracted to physical strength.

I stopped in my tracks at a police officer approaching me jauntily at the scene of a car wreck, doing my best to keep cool, trying to hide my beet-red blush in the flaring red lights, and concluded I am attracted to confidence, and a dominant stature.

There was a paramedic I met in my youth that supervised me, and I ached oh-so-unprofessionally to run my hands over those strong shoulders, back sore from loading the stretcher for me single-handedly so I had time to finish my reports, and concluded I was attracted to chivalry.

I wondered aloud many times if I were, in fact, just attracted to men. After all, I like all of these masculine traits, right? Deep down, I MUST be a little bi. My foray into sex work exposed me to much more testosterone than I’d bargained for- leaving me exhausted at the end of every day. Emotionally, I was numb. My six inch heels and gunpowder eyeshadow didn’t make me feel beautiful anymore, they made me feel terribly sick and terribly tired. But there came a day where I met her, and it changed me. The first masculine woman I was ever with was breathtaking. Slender, wiry arms, big hands covered in tiny scars, and a smile that brought me to my knees combined with all those qualities I’d found independently attractive, now made whole. She took me out, brought me flowers, paraded me around in those same stilettos, and I’d never felt lovelier. It was then that I realized that my attraction to masculinity is not an attraction to men- it isn’t even close. 

For any young queer women out there wondering the same thing, I urge you to examine what exactly your personal cravings are, and remember that it takes time. We’re never truly done growing or learning about ourselves, and there is no set moment in time where the clock runs out and you have to choose one singular label RIGHT NOW! As for me, I know who I am after years of introspection and experimentation with one too many trouser snakes.

I’m a lesbian, through and through, and I’ve got a penchant for back massages. 

Wishing you clarity and acceptance,

- Lavender

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vintage lesbian button stamps ♡⚢♡

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Ooh! I’ll bite.

 - rolling up sleeves of any shirt ever

 - cooking/cutting onions fast if she is so inclined

 - that little downward head-nod they do as a silent greeting

 - boisterous laughter

 - leaning against walls/surfaces, arms crossed

 - wearing their pants low on their hips

 - putting their thumbs through their belt loops!!!

 - lending a femme their jacket when it’s cold and it smells like her

I love them so much my heart is gonna explode.

If butches knew all the simple things they do, that make us just melt..... lol we would be doomed

Shall we make a list?

Plain black t shirts

Button-downs

When they wear jewelry like necklaces and rings and thick bracelets

Leather jackets

Hoodies

Smiling

Putting their hands in their pockets

That feet-apart, chest-out stance

Humming instead of words and its deep and gets you so good

Glancing at you out of the corners of their eyes

Gym shorts+sports bra

Dorky laughs

When they get excited about things and their eyes light up and they talk fast

Putting their hand behind you as you walk

Whispering into your ears

Combing through their hair

Sleepy yawns

Singing 😍

“Here, can I get that for you?”

Keep adding!!!

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Some late night baking helps calm a busy mind! Who’s ready for pumpkin bread?

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I wish I could speak to my younger self. I wish I could hold her and let her cry, wish I could tell her that she is loved, and that her femininity and her identity have meaning and she doesn’t have to shove them deep down inside. I wish I could show her that every decision doesn’t have to be an act of rebellion- she is valid already without question, and she can love who she is without anyone’s approval. 

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Too pretty to be a lesbian

“You don’t look gay!”

“What? But you’re so pretty!”

    There are so many assumptions about sapphic women I wish I could change, but if I had a nickel for every time I’ve been told I don’t look gay because I fit an arbitrary standard of beauty, I’d have a lot of nickels.

    People outside the community seem to think I should take this as a compliment, but really what they’re doing is saying, I believe that lesbianism is ugly, and you are the exception to this rule. It’s distressing, to say the least, to see this hatred of gay women bleed into what The Straights (TM) think is acceptable, regular conversation. No, I won’t take that as a compliment, because it isn’t one. It’s an insult to me and every woman like me, rooted in homophobia from years past, rooted in the assumption that lesbians are morally dirty, that our lives and very souls are ugly. Telling a woman of color that she’s “pretty for a black girl” isn’t really calling her pretty; it’s calling other WOC inherently undesirable. The same goes for us. 

    Sure, fine- you can have the benefit of a doubt- let’s say the intentions were good. You didn’t mean to insult me or my culture of women who love freely. But you did. The intentions don’t absolve the act- you tell me I’m good looking, but you compare me to the butches you associate with queerness and you shun them for their disregard of femininity. You’ve insulted my community, and you’ve insulted the women I love, calling masculine women ugly because they are masculine while you call me beautiful solely because I am not. It’s a thinly-veiled barb at masculine women, and at lesbianism as a whole. Do not qualify your praises nor your criticisms- celebrate queer women without conditions, lift us up and show us we are seen- and yes, that applies to every fat, butch, black, disabled, trans, and otherwise lesbian out there. It applies to all of us. We are deserving of respect regardless of our level of perceived conformity.

Wishing you love and respect, and a lack of conditions.

- Lavender

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I’m missing my other half terribly right now. I work in healthcare and it feels like I haven’t seen her in ages- I can’t wait to fall asleep next to her again when this is all over.

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“how to engage in courting rituals 1950′s butch style in the bar” an essay by merril mushroom, published in common lives/lesbian lives: a lesbian feminist quarterly no. 4, summer 1982