Diary of a Glitter Splashed Britney Lovin' Lesbo

I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else

Name:Miss Fee


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Currently Reading:

The Outsider - A Camus

Choke - C Palahnuik


Thursday, February 2

The most concerning thing about having a leg in plaster is not that I am forbidden from showering/bathing for six weeks (actually that works in my favour and ensures I am guaranteed personal space wherever I go). Nor is it that I can’t walk more than 4 metres without sweating profusely as I struggle to control the bloody crutches. The most concerning thing about having a leg in plaster is missing out on gay dancing and having to resort to unsightly chair dancing when the rhythm really does get me. It really is horrific and not a sport in which I ever would have dreamed I’d partake but once the Madonna or the Britney or the HiTack strikes up and there’s more than a singular vodka in my belly, there really is no controlling that urge to shake my upper body in a most unbecoming fashion. I’ve had grown men wrestle with me; I’ve had my girlfriend lace my vodka with water and I’ve had people stop coming to my house, all in a bid to restrain me from the ultimate cringeworthy activity.

But you’ve no idea how much I’m missing gay dancing! After the accident my friends were fairly persistent in trying to persuade me to go gay barring it, with offers to heft my monstrous body down the steep stairs and to buy my drinks all night. I refused. No way was I being carried anywhere; I couldn't afford the chiropractic appointments they'd all require afterwards. Once I made it clear that in no uncertain terms would I be manhandled into the gay bar, the parties started in my new home. Well if the Fee can’t come to the party… the party comes to the Fee. This was really when it all went wrong. It became obvious that I was incapable of taking a back seat, especially when Baywatch, the dance mix, was on repeat. I could not just sit there, motionless, while the poppers were being passed about (common, I know). It was already clear that the parties were just not the same without me flinging my legs everywhere, astounding people with my surprising flexibility. I mean the party officially starts when I commence attempting the back bends and the splits... I don’t want to go into to it too much, for fear it may incite further chair dancing routines here in the office, but I’ll just say that the parties have now ceased; no one feels comfortable around me and music and my uncontrollable urges to do ‘Madonna arms’ in a sitting position. No longer do people appear at my door, wine under arm and cd in bag. And no longer am I allowed to flick through the multiple music channels while there is beer in the fridge. Oh the life of a chair dancer is a very lonely one.

Today’s Likes

Being excused from all household chores, you know because I did so many before…
Disabled changing rooms, oh so much space!
Having watched my entire DVD collection
My new, bulging upper arm man muscles

Today’s Dislikes

Being around drunk people while in charge of crutches… be afraid, be very afraid
Shopping for new books
My new, longer and flatter arse caused by over-sitting
Needing to be escorted to the toilet :-)
Having to transport things from room to room in a bloody bag, bum bags are my new favourite accessory... no, really...

PS Totally off topic - does anyone know where I can get a good (and cheap!) website design package? Preferably Dreamweaver or similar... have exhausted ebay...