....Or, Pride Comes Before a Fall.
....Or, Skirting the Issue,
What's black and white and read all over?
Answer: Jenny in a bad choice of outfit (except my top was rust coloured and not white but you know what I'm getting at.)
Now that I've lost a bit of weight, I can squeeze into clothes that were previously deemed undonable. So Monday, feeling rather good about myself, I opted to wear a particular skirt that had been previously out of reach. I think it used to be one of my ex wife's, else I bought it as an impulse some time ago, because for a 
It didn't last. A colleague while genuinely trying to be helpful, commentated that the skirt didn't help portray the right female image. I decided not to inform him strongly, that I wasn't trying to portray a female image, because I am female. I just wasn't up for an argument. My point would have been that he wouldn't have been said this to any other woman. I know I should challenge misguided comments but sometimes I'm just too weary, and he is a friend as well as a colleague. I must be in a sensitive mode because this played on my mind all day.
Well putting that aside, on my way home I stopped off at Tesco's for some emergency rations (cheese) and some . Striding out of the store I spied a phalanx of teenage girls. My old Spidey Senses tingled, that I was about to be read. I hadn't had to call on this peculiar sixth sense for some time now, as I generally walk the planet as a work-a-day woman with little thought to my past gender, and despite my physical disadvantages don't seem to turn heads. However the old nerves came back and... Lo, it came to pass, that I came to not pass. I strolled past the girls to a chorus of sniggers, with the muttered low notes of "It's a man", while I totally failed to look nonchalant and unaffected.
As I said, it's a good while since I really had a problem with the being read/passing thing. I point my finger of blame squarely at the skirt. Actually it's not the skirt's fault. Sometimes a piece of clothing and me just doesn't gel. I got carried away and forgot the fourth rule of post transition living. Just because something feels good it doesn't mean it looks good. The whole trick to not being outed when you are 6 foot 2 and 20+ stone, is not to draw the second glance, and on that damp, dank, cold January evening I just got it wrong, and as a post transition woman getting it wrong is not an option.
The thought for today is : Complacency is the mother of humiliation.
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3 comments:
Like each of those Britney wanna-bes haven't worn something they shouldn't have...probably proudly!
I'm not sure that a skirt has any place in January though...unless it's much warmer there than it usually is here (today being a nice exception)!
What right have they...grrrr!
alan
We all make he occasional mistake, dear, its called life - no, not life being a mistake, just we make them as we go through life, you know what I mean!
I span around Tesco last night looking smart, but thinking, erm, "overdressed".
You looked fine in the picture to me Jen.
As Alan said, the TEsco event gave those creatures a rare respite from constant worry over how they look.
Keep up the good work!
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