The memoirs of a teen lesbian“Hey Mom,” I said in-between bites of steak, “last night my friend Kyle was sayin’ Buffy teaches kids bad stuff because she holds her hands down here,” I dropped my hands down to my chest, “and not up here,” I raised my hands to my face. “What, is he gay or something? Why wasn’t he looking at Buffy’s chest like your dad?” she said after swallowing her steak. I laughed, and my little sister just shook her head, wondering how she came to be the Marilyn to our Munsters. “Hey I’m not the only one that looks at Buffy’s chest. What about Fle?” my dad said defensively. &nbThe memoirs of a teen lesbian
