LIFE REVAMP
Wow - massive room overhaul yesterday - much better, now much more adult. New bedspread, sheets, new clothes. I hung some stuff on walls, put a lot of my clothes away, rearranged and got rid of a bunch of clothes that I had been "hoarding for so long, mostly because I have been really struggling to buy clothes and also, to find ones that fit remotely well. Hell, I even had a pair since Middle School. It was kinda emotionally wrenching, but oddly cleansing. I am anxious about having ANY clothes right now to wear. I pretty much only have jeans. I am being entirely sincere.
I think it all goes down to how I've felt about shopping - I remember these torturous trips with my mother, as myself and my 3 siblings would all go biannually, and naturally, my sister would reap in the most, my little brother did well between the hand-me-downs and the new purchases, and my older brother was easy enough to shop for, so my mother had an easy time with him. I had some trouble to put it lightly. Dealing with the issues of size (always ran a bit bigger), proportions (we're talking, muscular thighs and calves), colors (nothing masculine enough) and price (my mother would never buy a shirt over $16), I was pretty much fucked as a gender non-conforming, queer, female assigned kid. I would always come from these epic 10-12 hour shopping sprees with 2-4 shirts, and MAYBE a pair of pants. 2 was a GREAT day. We'd all have to show my father when we came home, and nothing really merited a "that looks great on you!" or some other comment of that variety.
Mostly, I just ended up getting what I got, and felt blessed when my parents moved so that I could just wear a uniform, putting the social pressure of finding clothes off to another day, another experience, another place where I could do these interactions so limitedly. It was a godsend that I never thought and all-girls school would bequeath upon me.
The issue was never the skirt, the issue ultimately, was about being feminine. I called my skirt "my kilt," and always wore a more masculinizing button down oxford shirt, which also neatly decreased the appearance of my chest - little did I know at the time that this was what I was attempting, it all kinda pans out more.
My mother never has understood my gender identity, or why she had difficulty with dressing me. I think how I subsisted on what I had to work with, limited underwear selection, 2-3 pairs of staple pants and the same pair of shoes, I did alright, and in that effect, saved my mom a shit-ton of money. For the schools I went to, and the places that my travels have taken me, my mother attributes that I am "her most expensive child," a title that I resent. I'm coming to think of a different placement of investment - that my mother didn't provide me the clothes and other resources that were provided to my siblings, maybe this all panned out? Still, this term makes me feel so guilty, that it still haunts me to this day, more so than the $30,000 of debt I have from my college years, when my other siblings have none....
I think it all goes down to how I've felt about shopping - I remember these torturous trips with my mother, as myself and my 3 siblings would all go biannually, and naturally, my sister would reap in the most, my little brother did well between the hand-me-downs and the new purchases, and my older brother was easy enough to shop for, so my mother had an easy time with him. I had some trouble to put it lightly. Dealing with the issues of size (always ran a bit bigger), proportions (we're talking, muscular thighs and calves), colors (nothing masculine enough) and price (my mother would never buy a shirt over $16), I was pretty much fucked as a gender non-conforming, queer, female assigned kid. I would always come from these epic 10-12 hour shopping sprees with 2-4 shirts, and MAYBE a pair of pants. 2 was a GREAT day. We'd all have to show my father when we came home, and nothing really merited a "that looks great on you!" or some other comment of that variety.
Mostly, I just ended up getting what I got, and felt blessed when my parents moved so that I could just wear a uniform, putting the social pressure of finding clothes off to another day, another experience, another place where I could do these interactions so limitedly. It was a godsend that I never thought and all-girls school would bequeath upon me.
The issue was never the skirt, the issue ultimately, was about being feminine. I called my skirt "my kilt," and always wore a more masculinizing button down oxford shirt, which also neatly decreased the appearance of my chest - little did I know at the time that this was what I was attempting, it all kinda pans out more.
My mother never has understood my gender identity, or why she had difficulty with dressing me. I think how I subsisted on what I had to work with, limited underwear selection, 2-3 pairs of staple pants and the same pair of shoes, I did alright, and in that effect, saved my mom a shit-ton of money. For the schools I went to, and the places that my travels have taken me, my mother attributes that I am "her most expensive child," a title that I resent. I'm coming to think of a different placement of investment - that my mother didn't provide me the clothes and other resources that were provided to my siblings, maybe this all panned out? Still, this term makes me feel so guilty, that it still haunts me to this day, more so than the $30,000 of debt I have from my college years, when my other siblings have none....