Friday, November 18, 2005
Baby Dyke
Just started the blog and Dot Lazarius is already falling down on the job! As promised, the Baby Dyke years:
I was born in a small town in Southern Illinois to a sweet, unsuspecting couple, who had no idea what they were getting themselves in for. My parents, their parents, their parents’ parents and their parents’ parents’ parents had all been born and raised in that small town. My mother insists that until Dot Lazarius came along, no homosexual had ever resided in that small town. And judging by the lack of action Dot Lazarius got in high school, I’m inclined to believe her, people! In fact, in order to protect the militantly heterosexual, let’s just call Dot Lazarius’s hometown the Non-Isle of No-Lesbos.
But into each breeder’s life, some butch dyke must fall, and Dot Lazarius entered the world, butch as the day she was born, on April 18, 1967. My parents were both in their early 40s when they had me so I was to be the one and only. Being farmers, they wanted a boy who could help out on the farm as a child and one day inherit that farm. Now I’ve told them that a butch dyke is the second best thing to a boy, but for some reason they haven’t accepted that logic yet.
Anyway, when I came out, the old male doctor grabbed me and dried me off. To my parents joy he announced, “Mr. and Mrs. Lazarius, you have a perfect baby boy!” While my parents were hugging and crying, a nursing student who had been to the city a couple times took a look at me and nudged the doctor.
“That’s not a boy.” She whispered.
“What are you talking about?” The doctor asked, gesturing towards Dot Lazarius’s large endowment.
“That’s a strap on.”
Of course I’m kidding, people. Just a little bit of my routine there.
But serious, I was extremely butch.
Just started the blog and Dot Lazarius is already falling down on the job! As promised, the Baby Dyke years:
I was born in a small town in Southern Illinois to a sweet, unsuspecting couple, who had no idea what they were getting themselves in for. My parents, their parents, their parents’ parents and their parents’ parents’ parents had all been born and raised in that small town. My mother insists that until Dot Lazarius came along, no homosexual had ever resided in that small town. And judging by the lack of action Dot Lazarius got in high school, I’m inclined to believe her, people! In fact, in order to protect the militantly heterosexual, let’s just call Dot Lazarius’s hometown the Non-Isle of No-Lesbos.
But into each breeder’s life, some butch dyke must fall, and Dot Lazarius entered the world, butch as the day she was born, on April 18, 1967. My parents were both in their early 40s when they had me so I was to be the one and only. Being farmers, they wanted a boy who could help out on the farm as a child and one day inherit that farm. Now I’ve told them that a butch dyke is the second best thing to a boy, but for some reason they haven’t accepted that logic yet.
Anyway, when I came out, the old male doctor grabbed me and dried me off. To my parents joy he announced, “Mr. and Mrs. Lazarius, you have a perfect baby boy!” While my parents were hugging and crying, a nursing student who had been to the city a couple times took a look at me and nudged the doctor.
“That’s not a boy.” She whispered.
“What are you talking about?” The doctor asked, gesturing towards Dot Lazarius’s large endowment.
“That’s a strap on.”
Of course I’m kidding, people. Just a little bit of my routine there.
But serious, I was extremely butch.
# posted by Dot @ 12:05 PM 
