Lesbians Pay Attention to Your Own Breasts, Too

The other day, I had a really neat encounter. I was in San Jose and headed to Monterey for the weekend. Before hitting the road, I had to handle some odds and ends, like picking up stuff from the pharmacy and cleaning up my super-scruffy hawk. I saw a salon near the CVS pharmacy I had stopped at and I headed over to hope for a walk-in shave. It wasn’t quite as nice as my normal place, and it certainly wasn’t edgy or cool. I was a little uneasy as I approached the door, with the small collection of jewelry for sale outside on the sidewalk. Like I said, I was super scruffy, though, so it had to be done.

While hovering just outside the doorway, I noticed a woman inside with a freshly shaved head. At quick glance, she did not appear to be a butch, or the rockstar type, so I assumed that she was shaving her head out of necessity. She turned towards the door and said to me, “What do you think?” as she touched her freshly buzzed head. She waved a ponytail of hair at me as she smiled a little wildly.

Go read the rest of this post at Huffington Post.

5 thoughts on “Lesbians Pay Attention to Your Own Breasts, Too

  1. Great post! Unfortunately there are lots of Charlene’s out there. I went into remission 5 months ago and if cancer teaches you one thing, it is that sometimes you have to almost die to learn how to live! Don’t take anything for granted. The purpose of life is to live a life with purpose. I’m touched that you were so deeply touched by this person. Go with it and the message it left you… that every single moment counts… that every moment is precious, just like the brief encounter you had with this amazing lady. 😉

  2. I shaved my mum’s head on an autumn evening when she was in her early fifties. It had been in the back of my mind all that week. Then the evening before her chemo began I really felt I had to bring it out, she silently nodded. I’m sure I tried to make it easy and made a few jokes, I felt dead inside. I will never forget that powerful intimacy between me and her, that physical closeness and the feeling of grounding necessity that helped us both to go through the following two years, her last.

    She was beautiful, her head perfectly sculpted, not a wrinkle in her face, she was about to enter a strangely serene mood that accompanied her till the end. The Thailand Buddha b&w snap that a friend made is there in my bedroom to remind me now of that feeling of acceptance she was able to infuse.

    We would be often mistaken as sisters.

    Years later on a train to Switzerland an elderly lady sitting in front of me, after a couple of silent hours we both spent reading, politely asked me if there was a meaning in my very short hair style…”I mean, not that you’re not beautiful with that lovely face, but such short hair… for a young woman…there must be a reason.” I smiled in reply and she seemed puzzled but reassured.

    Occasionally now when I Iook at my face at 41, I can see something of her in me. Having not seen her ageing she has remained sort of romantically suspended in my memories and as the fictional characters of my favorite childhood books, Pippi Longstocking, Heidi, Anne of Green Gables…I go on motherless but happy.

    thanks for your last post that made me cry over my morning coffee

  3. Ah dammit, someone’s been chopping onions by me again! Seriously though, that post was so beautiful. I hope Charlene gets better soon and yes, please butches, for all those who love you, PLEASE get checked out for those womanly issues. I know from experience with others that it’s not easy to find someone who will respect you and your gender presentation but for all of us who love and adore you (yup, even the butches we’ve never met – we femmes still love you), please take care of yourselves too.

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