Sorry to inflict this on you but my brain saw “activewear lolita” and immediately produced “lulilecon.”

She was kind of a deal for a time. Exhibited around the world, opened her own gallery in Cannes, published a memoir titled J’ai Choisi Mon Sexe. Lived to a ripe old age and died in the 90s. She has a painting at Centre Pompidou and a few private collections but otherwise seems unknown today.

Looked her up, she’s very cool. Hung around Cocteau, courted scandal, fought in WWII, got captured by the Nazis and ran a POW cabaret before she escaped. Hirschfeld tried to scout her for an Institut pussy but she was afraid about what happened to Lili; eventually got vaginoplasty in 1946.

My general experience of him so far is at once finding his overall conceptual framework incredibly compelling and most of his applications of it fairly dumb.

That scene in particular was so disjointed and strange. Is the impassioned, frankly corny plea for Emilia’s “validity” genuine or out of ambition and fear? If genuine, weird given that the preceding scene was her being suffocated, but if false, the whole thing is kind of inert and empty.

A couple more

It’s such a humiliating state to be from lol.

Yes, this is the case lol (I grew up there and they’re weirdly proud of it)

Yeah, a pox on the “heteroflexibles.” Like bitch no, for you I’m the worst of both worlds.

Girl this is crazy. I’ve had some Grindr nonsense but that’s on another level, I’m so sorry.

Yeah, I’ve had this happen in the opposite direction, it’s a bummer.