I was at Barnes & Noble the other day and came across this rather hysterical and interesting book. The book, Gay Astrology: The Complete Relationship Guide for Gay Men explained the five faces of the gay cancer, among other signs. Apparently, I'm what they call a "Drag Queen Cancer."
I won't tell you if what I read rings true for me or not. That's a secret left for my loved ones to figure out.
Anyway, you can read a little about it here...
"Drag Queen Cancer
Yes, a man can get PMS.
It is the switches between sweetness and irritability that give the Drag Queen Cancer an authenticity that others lack. Since men of this sign view women with such high regard, it is not surprising that they would try to emulate them in every way.
It is not just the dress that makes this boy seem like such a girl. He treasures his inner woman and lets her out at every possible opportunity. His home is frilly and his manner feminine. Even when dressed butch, the underwear is still embarrassingly femme.
Cancer did not make up his feminine persona. He learned it in early childhood. (That explains the retro feel he exudes.) His wardrobe and pet phrases come from his mother. Even his bust, which he so endlessly fusses over, is strikingly similar in shape and size to that of his mother in old photos. When turned out in his finery, he presents to the world an idealized picture of her.
Could any mother have asked for a better tribute?"
*Click the link above for the ebook
Yes, a man can get PMS.
It is the switches between sweetness and irritability that give the Drag Queen Cancer an authenticity that others lack. Since men of this sign view women with such high regard, it is not surprising that they would try to emulate them in every way.
It is not just the dress that makes this boy seem like such a girl. He treasures his inner woman and lets her out at every possible opportunity. His home is frilly and his manner feminine. Even when dressed butch, the underwear is still embarrassingly femme.
Cancer did not make up his feminine persona. He learned it in early childhood. (That explains the retro feel he exudes.) His wardrobe and pet phrases come from his mother. Even his bust, which he so endlessly fusses over, is strikingly similar in shape and size to that of his mother in old photos. When turned out in his finery, he presents to the world an idealized picture of her.
Could any mother have asked for a better tribute?"
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