Sheep were reading that the transgendered are looking for a better term to define themselves. While there is nothing wrong with their original label, we think something with a bit of Pro Secco is in order. Bertha, whom you already know is a transgendered sheep prefers to be called, “Simply Fabulous.” Nothing more, nothing less. Why not? We think those who insist on trying to somehow find a negative term, or worse, assumption they have to be somehow evil? We just look at those groups and shake our heads with disgust.
Baggies, when it comes to people, we are all the same. Simply fabulous. But if it makes those of us who insisted on making the change, (some not by choice), we feel we should have the same rights, labels as the rest of the world. Much like those who are born gay, those who are transgendered were also born with a sense that something was missing. Ok, that came out wrong, that they were missing what gave them their za za zoo. Again with the rolled eyes? Seriously?
When it comes to people, what is it that makes us who we are? Is it that joi di vivre, or that extra special something that makes our hips jiggle when we walk? Is it that idea that we all can be a tad different, and yet the same? We sheep feel that what makes us sheep is not what is on the outside, but what is on the inside. It is that sense that we have the ability to speak out, up and be seen and heard, without being forced to assimilate.
What is it about Baggies that makes them feel we all must assimilate into their neo Nazi, Suzy Cream Cheese world without that zip that makes us who we are? It is as if they chose a label for all of us and we now must fit in. To what we ask? Sheep refuse to be constipated in any way, shape or form. Not going to happen and no amount of squash will change that. Sorry puppy, but I had to go there.
Bertha is fabulous for who she is. We would not want her to lose that sense of whimsy, free thinking mentality that sets her apart from the rest. The girl works it and gives the middle paw to anyone who refuses to accept her. Would we really want her flat chested, no hair or legs the length of a football field? I don’t think so. If she were to lose that special quality that allows her to have and I don’t give a rat’s sheep, we would be devastated.
The days she goes for it, flaunts em, shakes those hips as only she can, and yes, we know that part of it is due to her inability to wear tight dresses, and Louboutains without wobbling over; we would feel very sad. Va Voom comes in many sizes, choices, shapes, colors and genders. It has nothing to do with religious belief, or behavior, or assimilation.
When we had to become sheep, it was a no brain er. Mind you, I would not want to see anyone go through that farm, where that beast insisted on the menage a trois, but it did give us exposure to designer attire. For that, we are grateful. But lets be clear here, it came with a hell of a price. Nothing like that first wham, having the eyes cross for about a week, then slowly realizing we are no longer animals. Those who used the mint jelly, oy, I don’t think so.
But look at what we gained. We found our voices, make choices we never would have had the ability to do. We learned how to work it, flaunt em, and not give a rat’s sheep. We made a choice that if the world could not adapt to us, we would not adapt to them. When you stand up for something you believe in, nothing can stop you but yourself.
Puppy made his choice to do produce. That is something I personally would not encourage, nor get into, but to each his or her own. At least when all is said and done, there is Chinese to be had after, or a nice crudite platter for snacking. Hey, in this economy we can’t just toss the goods. If they cannot multi task, what good are they? Those who choose to become trans gendered are not crazy, or weird, or perverts.
Those are politicians and not to be confused with people. We do not suddenly become extra horny, or decide to ride nude in the streets. But if we did, as Bertha has, we hope you will wear sunglasses. The glare can get a bit much. Sheep will be the first to tell you, not a hell of a lot changes. Look at us, have you seen us?
Bertha sports the latest in fake boobs. Her tushy is from the Kardashian collection, wig from the Lady Gaga line, her perfectly defined lips from the surgeons who brought you those babes in Hollywood. We know, it takes us a bit longer to get dressed in the morning, lose the five o’clock shadow, beard, (Tom, you can come out of the closet now), and put on our eye make up, use the weed wacker on our nose, adjust our behinds and apply lipstick. Whew, that is a lot, but the outcome is nothing short of fab.
We have to ask, is this really that much different from what you dames do in the morning? We know you get the five o’clock shadow. All of that booze and partying does not help. We know you have to cover the bags, which we like to use preparation H for. When your boobs start to hang low, we know you need a harness to hold them up. I mean, let’s get real here. When you need to twirl them on a fork, it is time to trade them in for a new set. You have to swish to get the snarl out. Some snarl to get the swish out too. But I digress.
The thing is this, no matter who you are, what you do, where you come from, or how you got here, all of us are sheep. You can call em like you see em, as we do, decide we may be something you create in your twisted minds as I do, but you cannot take the fabulousity out of any of us. It is what gives everyone there spring in thier step, that effervesance found in Pro Secco, and our ZA ZA ZOO.