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I was going to write about my depressing bra-shopping experience this afternoon (why must I be made to feel like an unlovable glutinous freak because I am not a size nothing? why are the only bras in my size either "padded" or "minimizing"? who the fuck wants a bra full of "whipped silicone"?). I was stewing about the whole experience on the way home, and continued to fret over it while I walked the dog.

But then I heard "Wooo! Hey, baby!" yelled from a passing microbus and looked up to see my ol' pal Laura driving down my street. Laura was the first woman to befriend me when I joined WAC shortly after moving to Chicago in 1995. We've lost touch over the last couple years -- I most recently saw her at LadyFest Midwest -- but she was always one of my favorite WAC sisters. She could be a little intense at times, but she never judged me. (So much of my WAC experience was closer to this.)

She pulled over and we chatted for a while. She and her wife Trish are moving into the microbus next week to spend a year traveling around the country, so I'm glad I got a chance to see her before she left. Unlike many of my feminist pals, Laura's only reaction was happiness when I told her about my upcoming thingie, assuring me that one can be a wife and an activist and a kick-ass feminist hellraiser all at once, that marrying a boy does not make me a bad feminist, that the point of feminism is creating a world where we can make our own damn choices and be true to ourselves, not force ourselves into someone else's ideal (whether that ideal is created by The Man or by other women). She laughed and said the people who didn't understand this were "less evolved." I knew this all along, of course, but I sure liked hearing it from my hippie dyke drummer goddess-worshippin' road-trippin' friend. Thanks, Laura -- you made my day.

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