The Ongoing Struggle

anxiety-1  It is a constant battle. Everyday I go to bed and hope, prey that when I wake up I will want to go to work. I prey that when I wake up I will be excited to go to work or at the very least I will want to go to work. Unfortunately that’s not happening.

Three months ago I injured my back at work. All I did was slip on a tiny puddle of water. I didn’t even fall and hit the floor, I jarred my back trying to balance myself and stop myself from falling over. I have a pre-existing back condition and it is because of this condition that I found myself on bed rest and basically going out of my mind for three weeks. Three weeks of laying around the house for someone who doesn’t do well with alone time is a long time. Three weeks is an extremely long time for negative thoughts and insecurities to seep in and perceptions of yourself to change, let alone when you’re struggling to recover from an injury.

CT scans and physical examinations revealed that I basically sprained the muscles in my lumbar spine (my lower back) for which there is no real treatment except rest and pain management. I don’t take pain killers, I don’t like them, codeine makes me nauseated, tramadol basically knocks me out. I experienced back pain prior to this accident I basically refused to take the pain killers because I don’t want to build a resistance so the first three weeks of this experience were hell for me. Codeine during the day and tramadol at night, not being able to be hugged by my partner, not being able to do anything, to drive my car, to leave the house, this is not an environment that leads to a positive mind set.


What this leads to is a mind full of doubt and insecurity.

I had to call my boss and tell her that I basically couldn’t do my job, a job which I had only been employed to do three weeks prior, a job that I am good at but a job that I was already feeling insecure about because of the toddler-like private surgeons that I was having to deal with. I am good at my job and I love it but I was already feeling inadequate in an environment where I was unwanted as a new person and was unfamiliar.

Three weeks, I had plenty of time to lay there and feel old and decrepit, to let the seeds of insecurity that had already implanted in my brain fester and spread. Not to mention the flare up of my binge eating disorder. My life sucks.


I am a big girl but pre injury I was at the gym six days a week, it helps keep the bulimia and depression in check. What do I do now? I stay at home recovering and eating because I am overcome with the urge to eat. I can’t explain it. What I do know is that I struggle daily with not only the anxiety but my bulimia and binge eating disorder. This injury has taken everything I have that helps me get through my day, it’s taken my job, its taken my healthy diet and its taken the gym from me. Who am I now?


Back to work in week four and things were so different. Four hours a day, four days a week, I was unable to scrub, unable to do my job. My manger was amazing, she gave me jobs to do but they were not my duties, they were not what I was hired to do. I felt like I was useless. The people who knew, looked at me like I was breakable, they wouldn’t let me touch anything. People who didn’t know looked at me like I was lazy because I wouldn’t help move the patients or lift heavy things. I couldn’t work consecutive days because I went home in agony and needed a day to recover so i felt old. I felt old, fragile, lazy, and i felt anxious because I was so scared that I would hurt myself again. I was so scared. I still am.


So now, it’s three months on and I have called in sick for my fourth consecutive day because I am scared. I can’t sleep, I’m restless and I lay awake at night worrying about the fact that I have no money, that I can’t do the job that I am employed to do, a job that I love. I wake up in the morning and can’t move because all I can think about is what if I hurt myself again? What if I don’t get better, what if I just get worse? I can’t go to work and handle having people looking at me like I’m going to break or that I’m lazy, I can’t keep walking around my department not having anything to do, I can’t.

This week I was offered my dream job, a job that I have worked tirelessly for four years to build my experience so that I would get the job of my dreams, so that I could become the best trauma scrub nurse in history but now I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I am capable of doing this job, I don’t know. I just don’t know. I have worked so hard and now because of my stupid back my dreams are falling down around me.

I am scared. Scared that I am old before my time. I am scared that I won’t be able to progress in my career, a career that I had only just decided to embrace. So I lay in bed in the morning and call in sick, I call in sick because I can’t bare to look at my colleagues looking at me like I’m breakable, the respect that I should’ve earned by now, absent from their eyes. I lay in bed because I am afraid that I will do more damage and that I won’t be able to accept the job of my dreams. So I lay in bed at night, I lay in bed in the morning petrified. I avoid work like the plague because then, when I am at home I can pretend that I am still good at my job, I a still a rock star in the OR and I prey that one day, please god, that I will be able to accept the job of my dreams and save people’s lives.


Anxiety… My Story


You can’t do it.

You’re going to make a fool out of yourself.

Everyone is going to judge you.

Worse, everyone is going to laugh at you.

You don’t know what you’re doing.

You’re going to fail.


We’ve all experienced these thoughts. Every single one of us has had a moment of indecision due to fear of the unknown, a moment in time where you’ve had to stop and take a breath because for just a minute you started to doubt yourself. What if, instead of reassuring yourself that you can confidently walk down the road ahead of you, the single negative thought that slowed you down multiplied into thousands of voices in your subconscious screaming negativity until it consumes you? What if in that minute, you couldn’t take a breath, you panic, you search and struggle for oxygen and find the air around you has suddenly vanished? Your chest tightens so that even if the air was there your lungs have no room to move. Panic.


This is what happens to me.


I am one of the many faces of anxiety.


I am writing about my personal experiences with anxiety, as I have previously done when sharing my battles with bulimia and depression because I know how the stigma that society places on people with mental health issues can effect the individual. How, because of the fear of judgement and persecution that you carry with you everyday can stop you from seeking the help that you need. Let me tell you, that amongst my group of friends, I know not one of them who doesn’t or hasn’t previously had some form of mental struggle. We all stand by each other and support each other through our darkest hours because that is what friends are for and I would not be here without them.


I have an anxiety disorder. I am not anxious, there is a difference. For the most part I am ‘normal’ (or as normal as any of us can get) as a twenty-five year old. I get up, I go to work, I come home to my partner, I hang out with my friends… See? Normal.


However, upon closer inspection it has become apparent to me that everything I do is fuelled by a deep seeded fear of other people’s perceptions of me, of a need to be loved and fear of persecution and exclusion. So basically I want people to notice me and I wan them to like me. You maybe think that this is slightly narcissistic of me, but until recently I was completely unaware of why I behaved the way I did, why I put on a show and felt panic stricken if I ever left the house without makeup on.


What if I saw someone while I was out?


What would they think of me if they saw me with no makeup on?


I feel that the last few years of ‘Eldiese’ where I have been completely absorbed into the life of my creative and extraverted alter-ego have only served to fuel such concerns to a point where I now experience levels of anxiety in areas other than my physical appearance including my house and worst of all, my work. Unwarranted concerns really, why should I care what people think of my house as long as I am comfortable and happy with the woman I love?


You might be thinking to yourself that you too get flustered when expecting guests and the house isn’t clean but I get so flustered and so anxious to the point where I can’t breathe, where the voices in my head tell me that the house is a mess and I am a terrible partner and housekeeper. For those of you who know me and have seen my house, it is spotless, I know this, I am a rational person and I know that I have nothing to be ashamed of and that I keep a tight ship, but I am still the person who says “Excuse the mess” when there is not a single item out of place. It is in this moment of anxiety where I can’t breathe, the uncontrollable negativity engulfs my every thought and there is no room for rationality let alone positivity. This moment of expecting house guests (particularly my own or my partners’ family) when the fight or flight mechanism kicks in and I just want to lock the door and cancel the event for fear of how they will judge me and my house.


My safe haven used to be my work and still is to some extent. Depending greatly on the hospital that I am working at, it is the fear of the unknown that triggers that anxious fire inside of me. When working at a hospital which I am familiar with, I am fine, I am confident and quick on my feet. I know my job and love it. However, when faced with an unfamiliar hospital that terrible and overwhelming feeling of despair returns. Fear of not being able to perform my job to my high standards and people judging me is all consuming. But that’s exactly it, they are my high standards, no on else’s.


This is what happened to me this morning. I was booked for a shift at a hospital that I have only worked at once and laying in my bed, mentally preparing myself for the day to come I found myself unable to break free of the negativity that filled my head. I was faced with the fight or flight battle and on this occasion I fled. I called in sick and stayed in bed. While what I experienced this morning was not an anxiety attack (thanks to the presence of my partner, who’s soothing words kept me from teetering over the edge), I found that I was unable to move, unable to anything except stare at the ceiling and spin around and around in the endless whirlpool of negativity that told me that if I were to go to work then I would make a fool of myself and would have to leave, never being able to go back again. So I stayed in bed with my reputation intact, my bank balance dwindling and my fears still well ingrained in my subconscious.


When faced with choice to fight or flight I know that unless it will be dangerous to your health you should fight. Fighting strengthens your resolve, makes you stronger and in the long run facing these fears helps you to move past your anxiety. You to prove to yourself that the things that you are most afraid of are all in your head. This morning however, the thought of stepping into that hospital, into a theatre full of people that I had never met before and doing an unknown operation, it froze me to my very core. I was so terrified of what other people think of me that I could not lift my head off my pillow without a wash of fear engulfing me. No, this is not simply narcissism.


What about those times where my partner is not there to talk me back from the metaphorical ledge of anxiety and hopelessness? When I am alone and my deep breathing exercises and positive thoughts have failed to release the ever tightening band around my chest and subdue the infestation of termite-like defeatist thoughts scurrying around my brain?


Last week my partner and I moved into our new apartment, our first home together outside the incomparable mid-twenties experience that is the share-house. You may have noticed that I have been away working for a few months and as such I had not seen our little ‘Love Nest’ prior to signing the lease. I entered the property for the first time alone as my girlfriend was working. Realistically I know my triggers, so I should have seen this coming. I entered the apartment and was distraught. It was not what I wanted. It was small, there was no storage, the bathroom was never going to fit my make up in it. What would people think when they saw this tiny, golden-walled nest? Because I had no one there to point out the positives, the balcony, the gas stove, the great lighting etc, these negative thoughts swirled around in my head and I crashed to the floor in a sobbing, hyperventilating heap.


I cannot explain to you how it feels to be so out of control, to be so lost in the negativity and desperation that is filling your head like black, sticky tar. You can’t break through that. Well, I have not yet reached a point in my cognitive therapy that I can break through that by myself. So I did the only thing that I could think to do… I called my mum. My mum is well practiced in these types of phone calls, but I can’t recall ever calling her mid-anxiety attack but she was great. She knows exactly what to do. I go everything off my chest, what I perceived to be wrong with house, my hopelessness and despair and then she changed the subject. I don’t know if this method will work for you, but it worked for me.


I do see a psychologist, who helps me not only with coping mechanisms to help me deal with my anxiety, but is also helping me get to the root of my issues. Why I am I so afraid of what people think of me? I don’t have an answer for that yet. I also take medication which helped me to get through what was quite possibly the most challenging part of this whole battle. Starting a new job. I don’t know how my girlfriend coped with all of the tears and mood swings but she is a saint and I am so grateful to have her in my life. As well as my friends, because I know that if I need them they will come.



If you leave me with any advice today please don’t be afraid to ask for help! It takes so much courage to admit to people that you are struggling, but in my experience, as zoo at that veil has been lifted the road to recovery becomes that much easier.


So I guess the lesson is this, you need a good support network around you no matter if you have mental or physical health problems. You can’t do it alone and you shouldn’t have to. Seeking professional help and medication does not make you ‘insane’ everyone needs help from time to time and we all need to fight to get past the stigma that has been built up around mental health issues. And finally, you need to be kind to yourself because nobody is perfect and every single person around you has problems of their own.

The only person who is judging you, is you.


So reach out and take my helping hand.






Crazy Little Thing Called Love


“Love you.”


Oh fuck, what do I say? Do I love her? Maybe. Oh Fuck! Is this really love What do I say?


“Um… Thanks Babe.”




I love you. Words that we have all said, words that should mean the world but words that are often abused and overused for personal gain. What is love and more importantly how do you know you are in love? Love I think, is much the same as pain in that it is a totally subjective experience so the answers to these questions are as individual as the people in love. Ironic is that, in my experience love very rarely comes without the pain.

Is there ever really a nice way to respond in that awkward moment if you don’t love her back? You can’t say “I like you a lot” or “I might love you one day” that’s just mean.

But what is love? Is love that cliche movie moment when you see that person for the first time and the romantic music starts playing? You lock eyes from across the room and know instantly that this person is the person that you are meant to spend the rest of your life with? Should you be disappointed if your first kiss is anything but fireworks and butterflies?


If the relationship ends and you leave brokenhearted, does that mean you were in love but weren’t loved in return?


When you enter a new relationship and fall in love with your partner does that mean you never really loved the previous partner? Or should you learn not to compare relationships?  I think that the later is the best option, after all you can’t get distracted by the past and the bitches who broke you.


How many of you have said those three little words and regretted it, or realised later that you didn’t really mean it or have found your way into a new relationship and thought ‘Hmmm, maybe I didn’t love that person because the way I feel about this person is so different’? Or worse how many of you lovely ladies have used the L word (no not lesbian) for personal gain? Shame on you for those how have! Any Sapphic Sisters out there that have dropped the L bomb and been rebuffed? Come with me and we will get ice cream and watch the L Word together.


I feel that lesbians are ‘I Love You’ sluts. We say the words at the drop of a hat, and that’s not our fault, not really. It’s the urge to merge and all of the chemicals in our brains that make our feelings so strong. But it is true that we say i love you a lot, whether we mean it or not.


Love, that one little word can be the most terrifying and amazing word and feeling in the world. That moment just before you say those three little words for the first time and the butterflies that come with the moment are amazing. What is more amazing though, is when the words are reciprocated and you can’t help but do a little happy dance in your head.


But ladies, is it really love? I want to know how you think you know if it’s true love (the forever kind)? Or is not knowing all part of the game called life?


But in the mean time I would love with your whole heart, enjoy the romance and if she loves you back, never let her go.






The Lies We Tell

We all lie. We are only human after all and nobody is perfect. There are, however, many different kinds of lies and each different type has different consequences. I feel like as lesbians there are a stock standard list of lies that I’m sure you can tick off either having fallen victim too or that have slipped out of your mouth on occasion.

This list started with some friends of mine after Taylor admitted to faking orgasms with her girlfriend. I can tell you that only one of us in that conversation who was shocked was Taylor’s girlfriend. I mean, who hasn’t faked an orgasm or two? But then the question arises, why do we fake orgasms?

There are so many reasons! I think that for a lot of women in relationships we fake orgasms because they a) don’t want to hurt their partners feelings if they are not in the mood or b) the relationship is suffering form lesbian bed death. I don’t think that faking orgasms is something that should be taken personally unless of course it is happening all the time and them perhaps you’re just really bad in bed.


What about those girls who lie about being gold stars? For this of you who aren’t down with the lingo, a gold star is a lesbian who has never slept with a man. I am definitely no gold star and I have never claimed to be. Some women do, however, claim to be gold starts because they feel that there is a stigma related to those of us who took a while to come out or tried to conform before we accepted our true nature. Who cares if some of us have had the old hot dog in our bun? Apparently some do. Really though, why lie about it?


I personally, am of the opinion that if you like girls and vagina then you’re gay but some lovely ladies out there believe that you’re only really gay if you’re a top. I mean, how many times have you met a girl and she comes across all assertive and dominating only to get her home and find out she’s a pillow princess? Ladies, just because you like to star fish it while she’s going down on you does not mean that you aren’t gay. She’s still a girl, you’re still a girl. Sounds pretty gay to me.

This one’s a no brainer. She’s not friends with her ex. Of course she’s friends with her ax. We’re all friends with our ex’s and if we’re not we would still run a mile for her if she called and asked us for help because once we sapphic sisters have formed that bond, it’s not going anywhere. I know, we all wish the ex’s would just run away to an island somewhere and we would never have to deal with them ever again, but alas then there would be no lesbian left and that would be a tragedy. My tip though, even if she does say she’s not talking to her ex, don’t go looking for evidence, because if you think she is, then you’re probably right and if that’s the case, do you really want to know? 

And finally there’s the big one. How many people she’s slept with. Now in my personal opinion there are two ways to answer this question and the answers come from two different types of people. Theres the understatement and the exaggeration. The understatement comes from the girl who doesn’t want to look like a slut, you might really like the person who has asked you how many girls you’ve slept with or you might just be worried about your reputation. So you lie.

“No baby I didn’t participate in a lesbian orgy where I was elbow deep in at least ten other girls. I haven’t even reached double digits.” Lie.

Or there are the girls who exaggerate. I think that the exaggerators are the one’s with the huge ego’s who think they have something to prove. These are the girls who will point to random ladies around the room and tell you they’ve slept with them just to make themselves look good (or easy depending on how you look at it). Most of the time I think that you might exaggerate to your bros a little, but perhaps its not a good idea to exaggerate your number of previous sexual partners with your current girlfriend.


So ladies, how many of these little lies have you been guilty of? How many have you been caught out on? And what other lies have you told your partner or friends?

I won’t tell anyone. Promise.








Dear Butch… Love Femme


Dear Butch…

I see you. I rolled over this morning and saw you there sleeping peacefully, your swagger gone, your femininity enhanced while you are in your sleeping form. I smiled to myself because I am so privileged to see behind the butch bravado that you show the world, to see the woman that society thinks is missing.

When I saw you from across the room in your bow tie and your suit that night, all swagger and bravado, I knew I wanted to know you more, that there was more to you than meets the eye, so maybe I knew more about you then you initially thought. I know you saw me in my dress and my heels, my make up, I did it all for you. I did it so that you would notice me. You sauntered over to me, cocky, ready to pounce on this ‘innocent’ femme, but I know your game. I am a High Femme and I know how to play, but you knew that already. One touch of your face and you’re blushing. I thought you were adorable, but don’t worry, I would never tell anyone. Your reputation is safe with me. 

I hold my head high and let you guide me around the room, hand on the small of my back as you show me off , knowing that you are mine and I am so proud to be yours. My dapper butch, the flutter in my heart when you open the door for me and pull my seat out, I just can’t explain how special you make me feel. I have always been a princess, but with you I feel like a queen.

I am a high femme, my title means a lot o me. The way I identify is who I am. You are a butch, I’m sure you understand. I am not weak, and I am not submissive or helpless. I think that heterosexual society often perceives me as a damsel in distress and you as a man. I am glad that they are wrong. Maybe we should show them what happens behind closed doors my love? Maybe we should show them your subtle blush when I tell you that you’re beautiful or how you trust me enough to let me take over in the bedroom. We could let them see you wearing my apron and cooking me dinner. Better yet, let them see you holding a baby, my big tough butch dissolved to goo’s and gaa’s and lots of clucking. No my love, perhaps we should keep our relationship a mystery, who doesn’t love to be stereotyped by people who do not understand?

As a High Femme, I am not a gender stereotype and I am not going against my sex or my feminist ideals by being girly, by letting you open jars for me or you holding the door. I am a good girlfriend and I take pride in that. I can be soft and helpless sometimes, but so can you.  I date women who wear suits, not because they look like men, but because they are women. I wish that society didn’t judge our relationship by the way we look. I am high femme and I could not be more comfortable. Yes I like to be protected and I love the chivalry and butch mannerisms that you show me, but I can fight for myself and I will protect you to the end. It is not you that society needs to be weary of, it is me.

I see the way people look at you on the street and I know you know that I am on guard always to protect you, to protect us. I wonder how those people who stare, the ones who look at you when you walk into the woman’s bathroom, how would they feel if we were to stare at them and the person who’s hand they are holding. What about those people who give us a thumbs up on the street or people that yell their approval? Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be a straight couple, quieter I guess. One day my love, people won’t make a fuss, we will go unnoticed. For that day, I cannot wait.

What will happen when one day you carry our child? Can society comprehend a pregnant butch? I cannot wait to see you with that mother to be glow on your face, I think it is the only way you could possibly be more beautiful. You are, after all, a woman. You have a lady heart just underneath the surface of your rough, rugged, butch exterior. Your heart is feminine and tender with a great capacity to love like only a woman can.

I see you beautiful girl, I see your masculinity, your femininity,  I see the way you look at me like I am your world. I see you cry, I see your heartache, I see you all.

And I love all I see.

Love Femme.




We Do What To Our Vaginas?!

Ok, so here in Sapphic City we talk about having vagina pride a lot. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term allow me to educate you:

Vagina Pride: Having pride in one's pubic region, being proud and able to discuss any and all topics vagina related when necessary. Vagina Pride also incorporates the act of maintaining one's vaginal region not only in regard to health and hygiene but also maintaining one's pubic hair, not only for your significant other's benefit but also for the improvement of your own self esteem. 

Now while I am all for Vagina Pride I feel as though some women take it a little bit too far with their vaginal maintenance. Recently on a trip down the isles of my local chemist I found a variety of products that a) I had never heard of and b) would not in a million years use and none of them were cheap, from Femme Fresh to Douching and Vingal Bleach. But this little trip got me thinking, what other extravagant methods of vaginal maintenance are out there? How do other women out there feel good about their privates? 

I use the term Vagina Pride to help women feel empowered by their genitals, not to add to the already overwhelming expectations of the beauty industry. However it occurs to me that perhaps some women feel as though their privates aren't up to the standards that society has placed. 
Now, I'm not on to judge, how you feel proud about your bit and pieces is up to you, so the following is all meant in jest, but here is a list of the most outlandish things I found that women do to feel more Vagina Pride. 

So lets talk about the first thing that comes to mind… 

Odur - Vaginal deoderant (seriously)
While I'm the first to admit that no lotus flower actually smells like roses, I am a firm advocate that good hygiene will solve the majority of dour problems but apparently that's not enough. One look in your local chemist's 'feminine hygiene' section and you will find a myriad of products all designed to freshen up you meat curtains and (depends on the fragrance you choose) make them smell like a tropical island (because every woman wants a vag that smells like bali.)

If you are going to use these products ladies, my advice would be to read the fine print and do some research first. Many of these products include chemicals that may be harmful to you. For example; on my trip to Price Attack I found 3 different vaginal deodorants that contained Benzethonium Chloride google this shit! It's used in cleaning products and is even classified as a poison in some countries! Make sure you are away of what you are putting inside your bodies ladies! Did I forget to mention that these deodorisers are vaginal suppositories? Yup! For minty fresh breath just shove a couple of those straight into your love tunnel! Dirt and Grossness-Douching For those of you who aren't aware, douching is when you force a mixture of fluids into the vagina with a tube and a pump. Im going back to my previous statement here… Good hygiene is all you need! You don't need to be squirting chemicals into your V.J.J. 1. it's messy and 2. its dangerous. Most health professionals will actually discourage the use of douching, like products such as Femme Fresh Douching can disrupt the balance of natural flora (the good bacteria) in your vagina and lead to yeast infections etc (you just got schooled by the Nurse side of me). If your vagina smells bad or has a funny discharge then go and see your doctor, don't shove some random chemical or home remedy up there. Douching can actually lead to ectopic pregnancy and infertility!
Loose Flaps - Vag Rejuvenation
Ok so Vaginal rejuvenation does not solve the low hanging flaps issue but it does claim to make your vagina tighter! That's right ladies! A tighter V.J.J.! I don't know about you ladies, but I've never had any complaints in that department and even after you've pushed out a kid or two is a bit of extra room down below really reason enough to pointing a laser at it? 

And although all the stars are apparently doing it this $4000-$20 000 procedure can lead to all sorts of post op complications including infection, altered sensation, adhesions and scarring. In other words, you'll be really tight but also really oozy and bumpy because of all of your infected scar tissue. 

Ugly V.J.J. - Labiaplasty
Labiaplasty is a surgical procedure in which a portion of your labia is removed in order to make it look more attractive. I love vagina, but I wouldn't say that it's the prettiest part of the female body… but is getting bits of it cut off really going to help? But a lot of self conscious women do this is order to make their flaps equal in length, shorter and more petite and feminine. Again I ask, what was wrong with it in the first place? So how much will a procedure like this set you back? $5000 or more. 

And if you're completely unhappy with the whole outside region Dr. Red Alinsod, a urogynecologist in Laguna Beach, California, has the procedure for you! 'The Barbie': a procedure that excises the entire labia minora. This results in a “clamshell” aesthetic: a smooth genital area, the outer labia appearing “sealed” together with no labia minora protrusion. So add the barbie with some vaginal rejuvenation and you can be nice and smooth on the outside and tight one the inside! Perfect!

And if all else fails and you're still not happy with your nether region… just get some vegazzling! Then it will be so shinny that your conquest won't realise that your flaps are uneven and scarred!





The Dictionary

Your go to resource for new lesbians and hetero’s…

Please don’t take offence to what I’ve written, if you feel like I have the wrong understanding of the word or if you feel like I have missed anything please let me know.

Andro/Androgyny/Androgynous: A lesbian who is neither butch nor femme, but may appear as both. A gender fluid butterfly. Might also go by: gender fluid, gender queer.

Baby Dyke: A young, newbie lesbian (can you say “drama”?).


Beard:  a “beard” is a person of the opposite sex who marries or dates a closeted lesbian or gay person to cover up their homosexuality.

Bicurious: A straight girl who wants to indulge her lesbian fantasies. (Occasionally, a lesbian who wants to indulge her hetero fantasies.)

Bisexual: A girl (or guy) who likes both girls and boys. This does not mean that all bisexuals date a number of people at one time or that they are unfaithful. 

Boi: A boyish lesbian/a soft butch… Typically wearing the snap back and singlet with low rider jeans.

Bottom: Someone who is submissive in bed.

Breeder: A derogatory term for a straight person.

Butch: A masculine lesbian. For women, the term sometimes references not only a look (short haircut, men’s clothing and shoes, lack of make-up) but also an attitude of control and dominance in relation to another woman and of course their gentlemanly manners.

Author of Butch on Tap

Butch Jaxon – Author of Butch on Tap

Chapstick lesbian: A tomboy lesbian. Doesn’t quite fit the stud or femme description. Usually in between the two extremes. A lesbian who wears Chapstick rather than lipstick.

Clam Slammed: An annoying experience to have – the lesbian example of cock blocking.

Dental Dam: A latex square to be placed over the vagina before oral sex as a safer alternative to prevent the spread of sexually transmitted diseases. Sometimes referred to as a female condom.

Drag King: a drag king is a woman who dresses to look like a man, usually for performance. Drag kings are often lesbian, but not always.


Dyke: Another (less Femme) word for lesbian.

Dykes on Bikes: Gay women who ride motorcycles. This is also a name adopted by groups of women on motorcycles who typically lead Pride parades in the U.S. In San Francisco, where at least 100 women typically lead the S.F. Pride Parade each year, the San Francisco Women’s Motorcycle Contingent has trademarked the name “Dykes on Bikes” which now prevents any other group from using the title officially without SFWMC permission.


Fag Hag: A staight woman who loves the company of the gay male community, such as drag shows, and going to gay bars. She also has a best friend that is gay and the have everything in a hetro relationship except the sex part. And they share what best girlfriends have incomon. Most often the gay men she hangs out with ecspcially if she is beautiful are attracted to her, but the attraction is only them admiering her beauty and the drag queens want to be her. And her main fag is usually very proud to have her as a hag. And a true fag hag isn’t ashamed to admit who she is.

Femme: A feminine lesbian. Identifying traits are often painted nails, make-up and “girly” clothes.

FTM: A female-to-male transsexual. May or may not have previously identified as a lesbian.

Gaydar: An intuitive ability to determine whether another person is gay or not. Gaydar relies heavily on social mannerisms and behaviors. The word derives from a combination of Gay + Radar.


Genderqueer: No, that’s not a typo. It’s a word that means you don’t limit your gender identity to the typical man/woman archetype. For instance, maybe you feel like you’re both man and woman, or maybe you feel like you’re neither. Either way, it’s all good.

Gold star: A lesbian who’s never been with a man (a sometimes rare but worthy find).

Hasbian: A long-term lesbian who returns to Dicksville after being in Lesbo-Land for some time (often derogatory).

Femme: A feminine lesbian.


High Femme: High femmes are femmes who intentionally and consistently embrace and express femininity past the point that most straight women do and we may just a little high maintenance.

Intersexual:Describes a person born with genitalia that is not clearly male or female. Along with the sexes Male and Female, there are an estimated 3 other sexes – Ferm, Merm and Herm (see definitions) – as defined physically by genitalia. Research indicates that numerous children are born with ambiguous genitalia but are often reshaped by surgeons usually without parents’ consent or knowledge. These operations can result in emotional trauma, loss of genital sensation and/or loss of the  ability to orgasm. Additionally, some people are born with genital sex organs that do not match their XY chromosomes. A notable American novel that has dealt with this issue is Middlesex, winner of the 2003 Pulitzer Prize for fiction. Author Jeffrey Eugenides, an American who lived in Berlin during the writing of Middlesex, tells the passionate and confusing story of a man who seems to be a girl at birth but becomes something altogether different as her life unfolds.

Lesbian: A women who is sexually and emotionally attracted to other women.

Lipstick lesbian: A lipstick lesbian is a woman who loves other women, but also loves her clothes and makeup and shoes. She tends to dress on the femmy side

Malesbian: Harmless but slightly creepy straight guy who thinks he is a lesbian. Often misunderstood.

Marble: A woman who maintains her heterosexual marriage while recognising that she is actually gay. (MARried But LEsbian.)

Meerkat: A straight girl in a gay environment (otherwise known as a fag hag). Easily recognisable by their uncomfortable posture (resembling a market).

MTF: Male-to-female transsexual. Better known as trans woman. Or just woman. Trans women can be lesbians too.

Packing: When a lesbian wears a strap-on under their clothes to give the impression that there is “something else” there. Socks can also be used.


Parthenogenesis: Reproduction without sperm fertilization of a female egg, in other words, Virgin birth. The term is relevant among lesbians – and in lesbian science fiction – where there is interest and desire to live in all-women environments with no need for men in the creation of children. In 2004, Japanese scientists announced the creation of the first fatherless mammal (a mouse) from two female eggs, leading some to believe that not only may it someday become possible to reproduce without men, it may also become possible to for two women to reproduce as well.

Pillow Princess: A girl who likes to receive sexually (but refuses to give in return).

Polyamory: The practice of openly having more than one sexually intimate relationship or partnership with the full knowledge and consent of everyone involved. This is sometimes abbreviated to “poly” and also referred to as “responsible nonmonogamy.” Polyamory does not describe the act of having more than one marriage partner (see Polygamy). Nor does it describe the act of having numerous sex partners. What defines a polyamorous person is an open involvement in more than one meaningful sexually intimate relationship.

Polygamy: The practice of having more than one marriage partner at any given time. One is said to be polygamous if they are legally married to more than one person at a time.

Queer: Once considered a derogatory word, some people use this term to be all inclusive of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people. Warning: Some people still find this word offensive.

Saysbian: A fake lesbian. Someone who says they’re a lesbian, but only seems to have sex with men because being a lesbian is so chic right now!

Scissoring: What men think lesbians do in bed, what lesbians know we don’t do in bed.


Soft butch: The soft butch is like a Crème Egg; they appear to have a hard exterior but are soft on the inside.

Spagetti lesbian: A woman who is straight until she is wet. So basically get her hot and horny and she’s yours.

Stem: A stem is a lesbian who identifies somewhere between “stud” and “femme.”

Stone Butch: A lesbian who doesn’t like to be touched in a sexual way, always preferring to give than receive. Often found with a “pillow princess”.

Stud: a dominant lesbian, usually butch.

Top: Someone that is dominant in bed.

Transgender: Specifically, this term describes people who live primarily in a gender that is not associated with their birth sex but who have also not opted to hormonally or surgically change their gender and/or do not identify as Transsexual (see definition). For example, a person with female birth sex who is living as the physical gender of a man may often bind her breasts, prefer a male name, identify as a man, prefer to be known as a man, and wear the clothing, hairstyle and other physical indicators of a man. More generally, the term Transgender also describes anyone who lives their personal identity in a manner that crosses gender boundaries, which includes Transsexuals and Transvestites (see definition).

Transsexual: This term describes a person who views their birth sex as incorrect and/or incompatible with their self-image and inner feeling of their gender and who will take steps to change their gender as a result. Some of the methods used in changing one’s gender include hormone therapy and gender-reassignment surgery. Often, the following abbreviations are used to describe people who are in the process of transitioning from one gender to another: F2M means Female to Male and describes women who are in the process of transitioning from their birth sex as female to the gender of male; M2F means Male to Female and  describes men who are in the process of transitioning from their birth sex as male to the gender of female.

Transvestite: Anyone who fully dresses in clothes, make-up, hairstyles and other physical attire to purposely identify themselves as the opposite gender or sex and who is more broadly recognized as crossing gender boundaries.

Trysexual: A girl who will try anything once.

U-haul Lesbian: A girl who tends to move in fairly quickly with those she dates.

Vagitarian: A code word for lesbian.

Vajazzle: To give the female genitals a sparkly makeover with crystals so as to enhance their appearance.


Vanilla: Non-kinky, non-risqué sex. Plain and simple intercourse.

If I have missed anything or you feel like my definitions are wrong, please let me know!