#Women Tank Vest

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Zelina is wearing the Compression Strappy Thermal Crop Tank ($52), Compression Unisex Hooded Cargo Vest (out of stock), Echo Ecru V-Cut Cut-Out Bell Bottoms ($68) from Darker Wavs and the Home Base Combat Boots ($65) from Dolls Kill

[fitmod1]

Stylish tank tops for women

The Vest top is relaxing and very snuggly worn. This super-comfy top is made of breathable and soft fabric and gives you an elegant look. The top features a V-shaped neck on both the front and backside. You can wear this pretty and comfortable top at both workout sessions and casual meetings. Also, it is available in different shades that allow you to choose your favorite from the collection.

[tnetshirts7]

Women Nylon Suspender Vest Tank Top

[chic-cheapcom]

Saodimallsu Womens V Neck Sweater Vest Oversized Ribbed Knit Sleeveless Casual Loose Fit Pullover Tank Top

[krugxtreme]

Buy Gym Wear For Men & Women Online At Best Prices In India

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[marzipanandminutiae]

could the beach painting not be intended as a somewhat ~racy~ depiction (see: the topless woman), hence the short/tight clothes?

oh it 1000% is

that is his Fantasy Version of Combinations, I'm convinced

it's like that one artist nobody now realizes loved to depict women half-dressed, because corset-covers look like tank tops to us and petticoats look like normal (even old-fashioned and concealing!) skirts. what was that guy's name? with all the blue silk?

...TOULMOUCHE

this woman is showing her underwear. a glimpse of petticoat might be fine, but Skirt Hiking To Reveal A Huge Amount? nope. that is a sexy painting.

Lounging About With My Bodice Inexplicably Open is a popular Toulmouche theme. the white "tank top" is also underwear. note the half-up hair- that is also sexy!

damnit, Toulmouche why is this lady sexy? there's a kid in the painting! have some decency! but no, Mama is praying with her child while inexplicably having removed specifically her bodice but not her skirt. nor has she just changed into nightclothes before putting the kiddo to bed like a normal person. also that is clearly her chemise and her skirt would not close over it without her corset on; the fat distribution would be all different.

this one is just gay. Mlle. Red is clearly into Mlle. Nightwear/Lingerie and her sexy 1880s pixie cut (I think? either that or her hair is blending REALLY well with the shadows). I'm here for it

"this letter is so distressing that I had to stop midway through getting dressed and put on my Bolero of Sadness. and lounge seductively against the screen. sad-ductively, I mean"

Get dressed to the point of putting bodice on

do not put bodice on

don Tiny Vest

pin roses to corset cover that would 100% negate purpose of corset cover if actually attached to it

???

Toulmouche(TM)

Once again, that's not even her corset-cover. It's the top part of her combinations. how is her skirt fitting without the corset it was fitted on top of? Seamstresses Hate Local Painter Of Specific Fetish For This One Weird Fitting Trick!

(also, "you wanted to paint a woman in this one very particular unlikely undress state you find hot, but you painted her making out with a mirror and called it Vanity etc." there's actually a version of this called Vanity, and she's fully dressed. this one is The Mirror.)

I've got nothing. Extremely obvious late Victorian undergarment on top normal late Victorian skirt on bottom, fucking Renaissance Revival pearl-encrusted sleeves. Why not. Why, indeed, the fuck not.

WHAT IS WITH THE LITTLE VEST

[trashabilly]

additional rant related to my tags on the last post i reblogged:

i distinctly remember employee appreciation day when i worked at the bank. the financial advisors got gift baskets and heartfelt individual little speeches from the branch manager while me and the other tellers got drinks from the bubble tea shop nearby that the manager picked (they were really gross flavour combinations and i couldn't drink mine bc im lactose intolerant and she got all dairy)

and then we got told collectively "you're not doing as bad as before but try to make less mistakes and not need as much help"

(we got virtually no hands on training, only powerpoints and if we needed management/an advisor to help us with something they would take at least 10 minutes to get to us while we had a line out the door and only 2 under trained tellers)

[kimludcom]

SPECIFICATIONS Waistline: empire Type: Straps Style: Sexy & Club Sleeve Style: TANK Sleeve Length(cm): Sleeveless Silhouette: Sheath Season: Summer Release Date: Spring 2022 Profile Type: H Pattern Type: Solid Origin: Mainland China Neckline: Strapless Model Number: black Material Composition: Synthetic fiber Mater

[bludoguk]

Get high-quality custom logo women's fashion workout vest and personalised tank tops at Bludog. Get them customised with an easy online tool. Buy now.

[sabohime]

♡ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦

multi x fem!reader

♡ . eek my first post!! some simple headcannons for you guys! enjoy :) nothing explicit (for now 😈) but! there are references to dicksucking!

♡ . includes: law, sabo, sanji

LAW

Law is constantly on edge. It hurts seeing your captain so stressed all the time.

So, being the dutiful crewmate you are, you decide to…provide him with a little ‘relaxant’. It’s not your fault he’ll have to work for it…

“Y/n-ya, what are you-“ “It’s hot, Captain!”

Law blushes at that. You can barely see it through the Tang’s dim lighting and his tanned skin, but from the way his eyes widen and his breath hitches, you can tell your plan is working.

Why is he harping about your wardrobe? Well, your typical Heart Pirates boiler suit had been traded in for a tight tank and skimpy shorts. How old were these? With the way your thighs were pinched by the elastic of your shorts, and the way your breasts practically fell out of your top, Law was certain you had dug deep in your closet to fish these clothes out.

“Y/n-ya. Seriously,” his tattooed hand rests on your shoulder now, dangerously close to the thin strap of your tank top. “We have uniforms for a reason.”

“Are you really gonna make me change, Captain?” you pout. You watch his brow furrow, and you know you’ve got him now.

“I think I’ll have fun ripping this off of you, Y/n-ya,” he grunts, hot breath now in your ear. His hands wander down to your shorts, palming your ass and taking notice of your lack of panties. “Even more dress code violations? I might just have to punish you tonight, Y/n-ya.”

You gulp. Law says Room and suddenly you’re in his bedroom.

“Regretting your decision, Y/n-ya?”

SABO

Once again, Dragon’s given him far too much paperwork.

As his secretary, it’s your job to provide him with some repose from his workload.

So…What better to let him take another load out on you? Maybe you should snag a pillow from your desk chair next time…

“Chief, I brought you the tea you asked for. A splash of milk and extra sugar,” you say, repeating his order sweetly and perfectly from years of practice. When you cross the threshold to his office, you find your chief of staff with his vest off, cravat undone and on the table, and his shirt partly unbuttoned.

The sight of his scarred, muscular chest makes you gulp. It’s okay Y/n, you can do this, you assure yourself.

“Thank you, Y/n-chan. You’re so kind, helping me out,” Sabo says, his cheeks rosy and smile innocent. You think him the perfect caricature of a schoolboy.

“It’s nothing, chief. I am your secretary after all. It’s my job,” you grin, placing the tea on his desk in front of him. You make sure to lean over and give him an eyeful of cleavage, just in case he might be interested.

“Is it your job to tease me as well?”

You freeze. You didn’t actually think he’d take the bait. Shit.

“Don’t be shy now, Y/n-chan. I’ve already gotten a nice view of your tits. And your skirt could be pulled down a tad, I suppose. You’re hardly professional these days,” you listen, face hot, sweat beginning to run down your back. At least he wasn’t scolding you— that was evident in the fact he said ‘tits’, and the generally teasing lilt in his usually silky smooth voice. It’s gotten deeper because he’s so tired, and it’s starting to make you clench your thighs.

“I-uh, I’m sorry, chief. I- I figured…” you scramble, trying to think of some excuse to remedy this situation. “I figured you might want a, uh, distraction. Right! A distraction from work!”

“Oh really?” the blond grins, pushing his chair away from his desk and moving his hands to unbutton his trousers. “Dragon-san has been giving me so much paperwork. It’s the least you could do, right Y/n-chan?”

You watch in awe as he takes himself out of his boxers.

“Now, Y/n-chan…How much of a distraction can you be?”

SANJI

Sanji gets hard just from smelling women’s perfume. So seducing him is easier than…really anything.

So, one night you can’t sleep. And the chef in the kitchen preparing recipes seems like a wonderful target for your affections.

“Sanji-kun, what’re you making?”

Sanji jumps from his place stirring on the counter, surprised at the sound of your beautiful voice.

“Oh my! Has an angel descended down on me to try my humble cooking?” the man swirls around you with hearts in his eyes, eventually bending down on one knee to kiss your knuckles. “It’s nothing special, my dear Y/n-swan. Simply practicing recipes for fruit tarts.”

You cup his cheek. A trickle of blood comes down his nose, but he pulls away from your touch to quickly wipe it away.

“Sounds yummy, Sanji. Could I try one?”

“Of course, mellorine!” Sanji keens. You smile at how cute he is. The blond grabs a fruit tart, which happens to be your favorite fruit, and brings it over to you.

He sits it on a plate in front of you, waiting like a lapdog as he anticipates praise for his cooking. However you don’t move to pick up the tart.

“Y/n…swan?”

“Feed it to me, Sanji-kun?” you say seductively, leaning over the kitchen island so your breasts pop over your crossed arms. Immediately Sanji is staring, but you don’t scold him this time. This was your goal.

“Of- of course, anything for my Y/n-swan,” Sanji stutters. He brings the small tart to your lips, and as you reach the last bite, you grab his wrist.

You decide to be extra bold, and lick a stripe up his finger. Your mouth detaches with a pop, and Sanji looks like he might pass out.

“That was good, Sanji-kun. Do you have any other special treats for me?”

[partycatty]

older!johnny cage > overheard

you're caught in the act of swooning over your boss

notes: i'm not even fuckin playing i just woke up from my nap in a cold sweat with this idea haunting my mind so here i am. i truly honestly genuinely cannot stop thinking about dilf johnny and his thick fucking arms and how much i want him to [REDACTED]

[ masterlist ]

• during your break from training, you managed to squeeze in a meal break with one of your closest friends. it was just the two of you, laughing and for once breaking the stoicism implanted into your demeanors from training ruthlessly.

• "jesus, commander cage really kicked our asses today," your friend whined, rolling her shoulder. "i get we're fighting against demons and elementals, but did we really need to run twenty miles?"

• "it wasn't all bad," you shrug, poking at your food. "we've done worse, i feel."

• "oh hush, you had the time of your life," your friend groaned, lightly pushing into your shoulder with a smirk. "you and johnny cage got to run beside each other in formation." your friend was sure to say his name in an announcer voice, wiggling her fingers as she pretended to read a large sign.

• you huff, planting a fist on the table as you try to conceal your embarrassment with faux anger. "oh my god shut up..."

• your mind wanders to earlier in the day. johnny decided to wear only a tank top instead of a long sleeve with a vest, giving you a delicious view of his arms as they pumped during the run. while you two didn't talk, he shared panting encouragements by your side, telling you you were doing so good and how much further you had left. it made running feel almost impossible as each word and grunt knocked the wind from you.

• "jesus, look at you," your friend laughs at your dreamy expression as you replay the memory. "you're down bad, girl, anyone and their mother could tell."

• "is it that obvious?" you murmur, burying your face with your hands. "i'm doomed."

• "nah, you might have a shot," she insists, pulling your hands from your face. "he might be into younger women, most celebrities are."

• "but he's not just a celebrity, he's our superior," you whine, rolling your head back. "i just watch his movies and pretend i'm the love interest."

• "oh, it's bad bad," she laughs, looking past you for a moment. her smile falters.

• "can you blame me? ugh," you rake a hand through your hair. "he's all muscle, he could just pick me up and snap me like a twig! normally i'd settle for height alone but holy fuck he's built like a brick fucking wall!"

• your friend falls silent.

• "and don't even get me started on his age," you point an accusatory finger. "he is 50 something and so fucking fine i can't even bring myself to focus on literally anything ever. i watched some of his old movies, and he literally aged like the finest fucking wine any vineyard has ever even dreamed of making! thank god his daughter is the commander because if he stood around and told me what to do i'd behave so much like a dog it would embarrass me. he is the god damn devil in disguise and i sure a shit don't have a single chance of him even looking in my direction with any more than a smile because at the end of the day i'm just a sad little recruit crushing on a guy who probably has a massive di—"

• "i'm fifty-nine," you hear a low, horrifyingly familiar voice in your ear. you can't even bring yourself to turn around, smile dropping and eyes widening. the only thing you can bring yourself to do is stare across the table at your friend, who's as equally still. maybe if you were still enough, he wouldn't see you. like a dinosaur.

• "lieutenant," you breathe out after a long silence, drunk on the smell of his cologne. "we were just... t-talking about you."

• "oh yeah?" his voice is rumbly, a teasing inflection making you want to burst out in tears. you had a faint suspicion he was behind you the entire time, something he confirmed before you could muster the strength to speak. "sounded more like it was just you."

• "well," you wonder if you can outrun him, stammering as you try to talk yourself out of this. "you know..."

• you finally get the courage to spin in your chair, turning around to face him. he's towering over your sitting form, a shit-eating smirk on his lips.

• "i'm sorry, sir, i'll... i'll do extra push-ups, i'll go overtime on training, scrub the toilets, anything to—"

• he holds a hand up, waving it away as he shakes his head slowly.

• "don't stress it," he stands up straight, crossing his arms. oh my god his arms. "but, uh... just a word, in my office, when you have the chance." you almost miss the wink he sends at you, but you caught it just as he spun on his heel and walked out, a cocky sway to his hips.

• you spin back around, slack jawed at your friend, who's red from holding in her scream of excitement.

• "he's totally gonna bang you on his desk," she finally spits out, covering her mouth immediately after. you just lower your head, hitting it against the table in defeat.

• who knows what he's gonna do to you in his office?

[tnetshirts7]

Casual Top Ladies Vest Women Nylon Tank Top

[a-little-revolution]

where do you shop for clothes? I’m plus size so I know the struggle of finding cute clothes when you’re not shaped the way corporations think you should be, and I’m very curious how you approach it

Hello! I mostly thrift my clothing, since I'm poor and plus size - a big thing for me is layering and accessorizing. I love mixing patterns, materials and textures to give a sort of bog witch meets howls moving castle vibe! I especially love thrift stores that mostly older women go to, so I can get a lot of old fashioned jewellery and things.

Plus size-wise I go for a lot of high waist-ed skirts and dresses, I've pretty much completely ditched pants because finding ones that fit me was always a nightmare (plus trying them on always felt so triggering and draining). When I do buy pants I never go for jeans or tight fit ones, but rather ones with draw strings. Overall leggings are far more size inclusive and I can wear fleece ones in the winter!

Overall I go for fairly cheap pieces and arrange them in colour pallets that I adore, and add a lot of fake pearls, scarves, crystals and jewellery!

Photo description: a series of five photos displaying various outfits within my style. I am a little person with curly green hair (also purple in a couple photos), pointy eyebrows, a beard and gold facial jewellery. The first photo is a mirror selfie of me sitting in my wheelchair at a local thrift store. I am wearing a dark green frilly shirt with a dark blue Lolita dress over it, and a duo-chrome pearl necklace. In the second photo I am wearing red high waist pants with vertical stripes, a sheer orange floral shirt with the top buttons undone, with white and red pearl necklaces. The third photo is another mirror selfie in a book shop, I am standing with my rollator and wearing a dark green dress with a long sleeve purple button up under it. I wear a few necklaces and a black and grey striped tie tied into a non traditional bow. The forth photo was taken by a friend of mine while I am smoking CBD on our porch. I am wearing a purple button up, orange vest, green skirt and green jacket covered in buttons and patches. My jewlery included gold sun earrings, pearl necklaces, and a piece of citrine on a chain. I am wearing round glasses and stars drawn where my eyebrows are shaved off. The last photo is a mirror selfie in the men's washroom where I wear a more punk style - a black tank top over a black and white striped shirt, a black beanie, white pearls and black necklaces. Hearts are drawn where my eyebrows are shaved off.

[chestharrington]

will you do a gator blurb of him driving you home drunk (and handsy) from a party 🤭🤭

ANYTHING FOR YOU MY QUEEN 🥹 and I even gave u little wattpadcore fake text messages awwww. Anyways this is very short sorry pookie

Rating: M

Warnings: Language, some sexual situations but no smut

~~~~~

Sat on a barstool and drinking vodka sprites like they were water, you should’ve known better than to open your phone. Over the course of fifteen minutes, you’d managed to text Gator thirty-five times— a colorful assortment of gibberish and the rare coherent sentence. You decided to throw one final Hail Mary with clumsy, drunken thumbs.

Well, it wasn’t your most poignant message of all time, but it certainly got the point across. After all, you’d gotten your fair share of ‘you up?’ and ‘showering without me?’ texts from him. Within a minute, he finally responded to your onslaught of texts.

Well, it wasn’t a no. You hopped down from the barstool, wobbling slightly, and pushed through the patrons to squeeze into the women’s bathroom. After a tiny wait, you convinced yourself this was absolutely the best choice. You locked the handicap stall and pulled out your phone, trying your best to find a decent angle.

With a clumsy hand, you tugged down your tank top and snapped a few quick photos of your tits, which you sent him without a second thought.

You managed to finish one last vodka sprite at the bar before your phone buzzed in your pocket. A one word text from Gator.

You closed out your tab and stumbled towards the car outside, wearing a stupid, giddy smile at the sight of Gator glowering in the driver’s seat. He unlocked the passenger side door and you practically fell inside with a drunken giggle.

“Knew you’d come,” you said, leaning in to brush your lips along his jaw. “Wanted you so bad all night, baby.”

He sighed in annoyance and pushed you back into your seat firmly before you could fully climb into his lap. You kept your eyes on his as he reached over to buckle you into the seat. A soft gasp escaped you as his hands brushed across your hips, holding you still as he fumbled with the belt.

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ mess, you know that? You smell like a liquor store.” You let your hands wander, teasing him through his cargos while he made sure you were buckled properly. He groaned at the feeling, then glared down at you. You giggled as he grabbed your hands and placed them back into your own lap. “Just stay still, alright? Jesus Christ.”

You gave an exaggerated pout and crossed your arms. “You didn’t like my pictures?” When he didn’t respond, you gave an exaggerated sigh. He paused at the stoplight and you tapped his shoulder very politely. “Is this better?”

You lifted your top, flashing him for the briefest moment before he yanked your top back down himself. His expression remained so serious that it made a flurry of giggles escape you.

“You’re such a good officer, Gator,” you cooed, running your hand along his muscled biceps then across his chest where his scratchy vest was. “So responsible and serious. Lemme thank you, baby.” You moved your hand back to his lap, letting your pretty manicured fingers dance along his thigh.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t even try.” He didn’t even bother glancing in your direction, so you moved your hands obediently back to your lap. The light turned green and he practically floored it. Outside, the lights of downtown streaked by like comets— an entire light display just for you. But all you could do was stare at how fucking handsome he looked.

“You’re gorgeous,” you said with a wistful sigh. “Does anyone ever tell you that?” When he shook your head, a frown played at your lips. “Well, they should. You’re so handsome, baby.”

He sighed and gave you a sidelong glance., the corner of his mouth turning up just slightly. “You’re real needy right now, huh?”

You nodded, trying your best to give him big puppy dog eyes. He patted your thigh and leaned over to kiss your forehead at the next stop sign, which made giddiness course through your very being.

He parked in front of your house, and opened the car door like a gentleman. You were stumbling as you walked beside him up the cobblestone walkway, which was annoying because you were trying your very best to look completely sober.

He got you into bed with as little resistance as possible, which wasn’t saying much. You kept trying to feel him up while he was helping you into pajamas, so he eventually gave up and only took off your shoes and jeans. Then was brushing your teeth, which was worst of all.

But the plush of your mattress and blankets was like a siren call once you got in— eyes fluttering sleepily the second your head hit the pillow.

“C’mere—“ you whined, grabbing at the air in his general direction.

He sighed. “I told ya, I’ve got work.”

“Skip,” you insisted, giving him your best pout until he relented. You were grinning like an idiot as he shirked off his clothes and climbed in beside you— your own personal space heater. “Thank you,” you hummed, resting your head against his chest.

“Yeah, whatever,” he sighed. He could act as indifferent as he wanted, but it didn’t change the secret smile he wore once your eyes fluttered shut. He kissed the crown of your head, and shot off a text that an emergency came up that he had to take care of.

It was only mostly a lie, but he’d deal with that in the morning.

[the-final-high-noon-rings]

day 2 of @mechtober-2024 - secondary characters!

the reason theyre all women is because. um. i may have originally started this for mech's women's week. which was. 2months ago.....

[Image IDs:

Image 1: A pencil drawing of several minor characters from Once Upon a Time (in Space) by the Mechanisms. Left to right are the Red Hood, Colonel Belle, Old Rosie, Schezerehade and Dunyazad, and General Tuco. The Red Hood is a small Asian person with dark bangs visible under a long cloak. Behind her is the vague shape of some sort of monster, meant to be a representation of her wolf virus. Colonel Belle is a thin, white, stern-looking woman with a knee-length light coloured coat, hair pulled back in a bun. She has a narrow face, lined with age and scowls at the camera. Old Rosie is a Rose Red, in dark armor, with short hair and a walker. Schezerehade is a small, mousy white woman with long, dark hair and dark clothes, wearing a skirt and vest, as well as small boots. Dunyazad is a mirror of Schezerehade, with light hair and clothing in place of the darkness in Schezerehade's design. Both sisters wear rectangular glasses. General Tuco is a tall, afrolatina woman with shoulder-length curly (~3a) dark hair. She wears a dark bodysuit, with several belts crossing her chest. The drawing is cut out, and laid on a black dresser. In cursive, at the top, it reads "Once Upon a Time (in Space)", with the logo of the album crudely drawn. Each character is labelled with their name in small, round handwriting.

Image 2: A pencil drawing of characters from the Toy Soldier's Story by the Mechanisms. Left to right are the Angel, the Real Girl, the Old Woman, and Pierette. The Angel is a thin, blonde white woman with a shoulder-length, feather-like hairstyle, a small, pointy nose, and pale eyes. She has a white cane, and wears light, loose-fitting clothing. The Real Girl is a short, mid-sized light-skinned brown woman with short, curly (~3c) dark hair. She wears a sweater, round glasses, and a long, dark skirt, and holds a guitar. The Old Woman is a short, fat white woman with a beehive-like hairdo, and wears an old-fashioned ball gown. Pierette is a tall, thin, white woman with back-length blonde hair that curls into itself at the end. She wears rectangular glasses, a short skirt, and a tank top. Pierette has a dark knee brace on her left leg. The drawing is cut out, and laid on a black dresser. In cursive, at the top, it reads "The Toy Soldier's Story". Each character is labelled with their name in spall, round handwriting.

Image 3: A pencil drawing of characters from Ulysses Dies at Dawn by the Mechanisms. Left to right are Athena, Arachne, Actea and Lyssa, Penelope, and Calypso. Athena is a white woman with mid-toned curly (~2c) hair. She wears a closely cut suit, and has long, dangling earrings. Arachne is a black woman with her hair in braids. She wears a long-sleeved turtleneck sweater, and a long skirt. Arachne sits in a wheelchair. Actea is a short, mid-sized dark-skinned Latina person with wavy (~2a) hair. She wears a dark tank top, with dark shorts that are rolled up. Several belts cross her chest, and Actea wears rectangular glasses, with a prosthetic left leg. Lyssa is a short, thin, light-skinned Latina person with straight, shoulder-length dark hair. She wears long pants and a jacket with the sleeves rolled up, showing a prosthesis attached to the elbow of her left arm. Penelope is a tall, fat brown woman with an afro-like hairstyle, with ~4b textured hair. She has large round glasses, and wears a dark, flowy romper with a toga-like cloth draped over it. Calypso is a thin white woman with mid-back-length blonde hair, and appears to be wearing leggings and a close-fitting jacket. In her left hand she holds a bottle. The drawing is cut out, and laid on a black dresser. In cursive, at the top, it reads "Ulysses Dies at Dawn", with the logo of the album crudely drawn. Each character is labelled with their name in small, round handwriting. End ID.]

(sorry for the longness of the post haha)

[commiegoth]

Interview with nonbinary trans author Kate Bornstein, promoting her book Gender Outlaw (Mondo 2000 #13, 1995)

Full text under cut

I‘m walking down 16th Street minding my own business. This good looking woman is coming toward me. She's got on baggy unbuttoned overalls and an orange tank top. Her arms look good, her shoulders look good, and what I can see of her stomach looks good. Two guys are standing on the sidewalk. As she passes them, one says to the other, “I'd like to take that one home.” The other guy agrees. The woman keeps walking. Now it's my turn to pass 'em. “I'd like to take that one home and knock A her around a little bit,” the first guy says. I keep walking. The other guy answers. “That's a her?”

But enough about me. This is supposed to be about Kate Bornstein who wants you to read her new book Gender Outlaw. Bornstein used to be a man; now she’s not. Bornstein used to be a heterosexual; now she isn't. Bornstein used to have a dick; now she doesn’t.

She’s a “used-to-be-a-man, three husbands, father, first mate on an ocean-going yacht, minister, high-powered IBM sales type, Pierre Cardin three-piece suitor, bar-mitzvah’d, circumcised yuppie from the East Coast… a used-to-be politically correct, wanna-be butch, dyke phone sex hostess, smooth talking, telemarketing, love slave, art slut, pagan Tarot reader, maybe soon a grandmother, crystal palming, incense burning, not man, not always a woman, fast becoming a Marxist.”

All that’s not what makes her an outlaw. What makes her an outlaw is she sees a time when folks will look at the binary gender system and throw back their heads and laugh— ha ha ha. Males and females and that’s it? Ha ha ha. Get the fuck outta here.

Bornstein’s looking forward to us all living in what author Marjorie Garber (Vested Interests, Routledge) calls the Third Space. “This whole concept of three is so beautiful,” Kate says, “because it includes the first two. I don’t say there’s a third space that exists between men and women. I say there’s a third space outside of the Binary which leaves the Binary as this construct off to the side, very fragile and apt to fall apart.”

If I were a man, everything about me that brings me grief in the world—the way | walk, the way I talk, the way I think, the way | stand, the way I sit, the way I dress, the way | cut my hair, how much I weigh, how much weight I lift—would not only be acceptable, it would be revered. If we lived in the Third Space, it wouldn't even matter.

Bornstein had to learn a lot of rules in order to fit in. Like when a man walks down the street he looks people in the eye; when a woman walks down the street she looks at the ground. And women talk different. They have higher, breathier voices and their speech is more modulated. In mixed conversations, it’s the woman's job to laugh at the bad jokes and fill in the awkward silences. They smile constantly while they’re talking and use tag questions to qualify sentences, like “you know what I mean?”

“All of these customs are forms of self-deprecation,” says Bornstein, “like learning how to keep my knees together and not putting my arm across the back of my seat in the subway train. A lot of that was not so much to be a woman as to pass as a woman, so that I wouldn't call attention to myself.”

If we lived in the Third Space, she wouldn't have had to worry. In fact, if we lived in the Third Space, she might not even have had penile conversion surgery.

“I don’t do well with might-have-beens,” she says. “I resent that I was manipulated into that surgery by every signpost in the culture. I was not aware of other possibilities at the time. I was a total subscriber to the Binary and to the genitals by which it stands.

“I knew I wasn’t BOY, I knew I wasn’t MAN. Neither of those categories fit for me. It didn’t feel right, I have no idea why. I tried for thirty some odd years and it didn’t work. The only other option I saw in the culture was GIRL, or WOMAN. Nowhere did I see that it was okay to be a “real woman”—which I believed in—with a penis! So the next step was get rid of the penis. This insistence on the Binary and the genital imperative that signals the Binary coerced me into that. If I knew everything that I know now, would I do it again? Yes. Absolutely yes, because sex is so much more fun now.”

Back to this idea of the Third Space, how do we get there?

“Cyberspace would be a doorway into the Third Space,” according to Bornstein. “Cyberspace frees us up from the restrictions placed on identity by our bodies. It allows us to explore more kinds of relationships.

“I can go online as anything. I go online as various kinds of women. I've gone online as a guy a couple of times; I’m playing a stable boy in a vampire scenario now. I’ve gone online as different monsters. I’ve gone online as Mr. Spock in a ‘Star Trek’ scenario.

“Cross-gender identity surfing online is so telling: Men slum and women step into the trappings of power as men. You talk to a man after he’s been a woman online and he'll usually laugh and describe some kind of sex he had, usually lesbian sex. But you talk to a woman who's been surfing as a man, there’s this spark there. There’s this wonder. There's this—'They really do have this power!’ As soon as men cop to the idea that women are learning this, they’re gonna be more frightened.”

Bingo.

In Gender Outlaw, Bornstein asks: “If wealth and power are important, and if in this world wealth and power belong to men, then why did I cease being a man and give up that wealth and power?"

Some male-to-female transsexuals argue—often in response to being excluded from women-born-women only clubs—that they didn’t have a real male experience because they were never real males. Bornstein’s not buying it. “I had a bona fide male experience—of course I did. I’ve been bar-mitzvah’d. I hated it. Being male and hating it sets up a fugue experience. It’s definitely a form of madness. | think one way of dealing with the madness is to say it never really happened. That’s a legitimate way of dealing with it, but the fact of the matter is, I spent over thirty years of my life as a man or boy. I did not like it. I hated it. I drank a lot. I did a lot of drugs. I played a lot of arcade games.”

Once you've altered your gender, it’s gotta seem like anything’s possible. The whole world must open up. Does that mean that transgender stuff is the final frontier? Bornstein doesn’t think so.

She believes that once people get a grip on the idea of the Third Space, and transgender stuff becomes passé, we're probably gonna have to look at other binary divisions. “What are the differences between animals and humans? What are the differences between plants and animals? What about artificial intelligence, androids like Data from “Star Trek?” They're gonna be around. | think the gender binary is the one most firmly entrenched in our culture simply because it’s the one that capitalism trades on the most, other than class. We haven't confronted class. A minor communist uprising in Eastern Europe is not dealing with class. Certainly, the United States has never dealt with class. I think the fact that my book actually got published by a respectable publisher is an indicator that the culture is ready to chew on gender, whereas I don’t think the American culture is as ready to chew on class.

“I'd say gender is the last apparent frontier. It’s the frontier that’s just become illuminated. It’s titillating. In public relations terms it’s sexy. In sex terms it’s sexy. It’s a movement, a real live movement—ready or not, here we come!”

Meanwhile, back on 16th Street.

I take a few more steps, then my brain turns over and I say to myself, “Fuck this shit.”

I stop, turn around, walk back, and stand in front of the first guy. “You say something to me?”

He’s shocked. He starts stuttering and shaking his head.

“Uh…uh…no…I was just…I mean…he was just…I mean…he wanted to know—"

I interrupt him.

“Something about knocking somebody around?”

He starts stuttering again.

“Uh…no…uh, I was just… I mean, he just… I mean, I was just saying—"

I interrupt him again.

“You know what it sounded like you said? It sounded like you said you wanted to suck my dick.”

“Uh…uh… your dick?” He looks at my crotch to see if I have one.

(I do, but it’s back at my apartment.)

“Yeah,” I say, “that’s what it sounded like you said. I think you want to suck my dick, don't you?”

He looks at my crotch again, then he looks back at my face. He grins, still stuttering.

Uh...well...I, I, I... I wouldn't mind.”

“That's what I thought,” I say, and walk away.

For an almost complete collection of Bornsteiniana, start with Gender Outlaw (Routledge), go directly to The Last Sex, Arthur and Mary-Louise Kroker (St. Martins Press), and keep an eye out for performances of Hidden: A Gender and Virtually Yours. The unsatisfied can obsessively watch for guest appearances on Geraldo.