cookie cutters

so, i realized something a few years ago.

as much as i'd like to beleive that i am unique or different. it's just not true.

i'm a femme lesbian with tattoos who does burlesque.

i love the indigo girls. and Tribe8 (and always will even though they broke up).

i spent last saturday sitting on my couch, watching Sex and the City and addressing my wedding invitations.

i have two pairs of Manolo Blahniks. and i hadn't heard of them before Sex and the City.

i'm trite.

i feel as if i should maybe care about this. but, on a very basic level, i just don't. there's a reason that stereotypes exist - there's often truth in them. i don't think i've viewed them as a checklist. but i have fallen into them. and quite frankly, some fit my self rather well.

so even though i'm one of thousands of women who bought balhniks after seeing them on Sex and the City - those fucking shoes make me happy. in fact my feet are tingling just thinking about them - especially that pair that are the lace up granny shoes with black velvet and patent leather. mmmm, shoes are good.

my heart literally raced faster at the beginning of the Devil Wears Prada when they had all the shoe shots.

i think i inherited my shoe problem from my mother. i used to make fun of her. now i am her. yep - another cliche. and i'm living it.