![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
raybearI just read a description for a my dream job, but unfortunately I fear I'm underqualified plus the salary won't pay the rent. What's a fag to do? (For those who can't read the link, someone on LJ is looking for a fashion consultant.)
At therapy on Tuesday, (when I wasn't yelling, obviously) there was an interesting discussion about me and body issues and clothes and whatnot. Specifically my past. I never realized how hard it was to communicate that just because I didn't want to wear certain clothes because they didn't match my particular desried gender presentation, that doesn't mean I hate or don't appreciate them. An example would be dresses. I pretty much loathed wearing them and how I looked in them -- this is partly because I was picky in my fashion sense and hated the styles at Penney's, partly because I wasn't skinny, so most clothes didn't fit me well, and partly because, well, I'm a guy. Though a nontraditional guy in most cases, a traditional one when it comes to clothes (I couldn't care less if other guys wear skirts or dresses or whatever, it's just not my personal taste). But I didn't hate clothes --women or otherwise. I could spend lots of time looking at catalogs or even in the stores, just don't make me try on, buy, or wear any of them.
By high school, I actually had accumulated a nice collection of dress up clothes because my mom finally allowed me to have suits, but also because she started making me dress clothes -- I enjoyed the experience of finding the exact cut and pattern as well as the exact fabric and color. It was a bonding experience for us too. I attribute this temporary embrace of dressing up to a couple of factors.
1) I was tired of fighting the status quo and decided to briefly attempt to "grow up", i.e. suck it up and do certain things that were expected of me. Like trying to be a woman.
2) During this time, I was heavily involved in theatre and costuming. My friend/mentor's husband was a brilliant engineer at a university -- as well as a brilliant sewer and designer. I started to appreciate clothes in an atmospheric, historical, and performance sense. So having to wear a dress to church became a performace for me.
....which leads to reason number...
3) I was becoming a big fag. Obviously not all men who want to fcuk men love Barbra and broadway and fabulous tight sparkly dresses with chunky heels (on women). But I did. Pretty much any attempt I made in being 'feminine' were actually more accurately 'queeny'.
....which is related though seems to be the opposite of reason number....
4) I wanted to fuck women. Or more accurately, I was attracted to women, since it wasn't always physical and sexual. So me trying to somehow come to terms with my own disassociated body came from my inability to come to terms with another woman's body. I.e. maybe I could recreate on myself what I wanted on others. Sounds sort of fetishistic, doesn't it?
I definitely have a fetish with socks. I've discussed this with some people before, even people on LJ. I can't stand wearing socks with no pants, and I can't stand when other people do it either -- it seems to go against my nature. Though another fetish of mine is the whole "so-trashy-it's-hot", so sometimes wearing socks is so wrong that it's good. But only occasionally. But I also just love socks in general. I love buying new socks and putting them on for the first time. I love quality socks. I love socks with prints or argyle. For a brief period in college I wore mismatched socks. Unfortunately, I often intentionally mismatched them. Sorta lame, I know, but I was 19 so some slack can be given. I was searching for some sort of subtle identity change, much like the bleached hair or blue hair of 2 years ago.
Clothes are a huge fetish for me too, partly sexual, mostly not. Today I'm wearing dark rinse jeans which are somewhat fitted but mostly long, with my yellow fake Timberland boots. And charcoal grey t-shirt. It's driving me nuts. Looking down at myself causes anxiety. I often have problems with dark rinse jeans because they're basically navy pants and navy is a color I often have problems with because NOTHING goes with it. At least not well. At least not from my closet which is 70% black/gray/charcoal. So even though I love these jeans, the only top I can comfortably wear is the white undershirt or a-frame. Which I can't wear out of the house too often. At least not until top surgery.
My charcoal grey t-shirt with the jeans wasn't intentional -- the shirt is my undershirt which would not be seen under my lighter grey stripey sweater, which looks decent with the jeans (though still not perfect). But the office is so hot, I had to remove the sweater, and now my mood is rotten because I don't look as sharp. Yes, my mood is greatly affected by my clothes. And I don't think it's shallow of me at all. In fact it makes perfect sense -- being trans is all about making the outside accurately reflect the inside. We just deal with it more explicitly than most folks.
But lest anyone be concerned my great concern for clothes makes me judgmental, please don't worry your pretty little Gap trousers. The standards I have for myself are much higher. I definitely notice and appreciate when people have excellent or eccentric taste or clothing, but I don't really let it extend to judgments about their worth as a person or even as a personality. My best friend has one of the best personalities of anyone I've ever met, but I would rarely leave the house dressed like he does. Except for his Ricky Martinesque gay sweater.
At therapy on Tuesday, (when I wasn't yelling, obviously) there was an interesting discussion about me and body issues and clothes and whatnot. Specifically my past. I never realized how hard it was to communicate that just because I didn't want to wear certain clothes because they didn't match my particular desried gender presentation, that doesn't mean I hate or don't appreciate them. An example would be dresses. I pretty much loathed wearing them and how I looked in them -- this is partly because I was picky in my fashion sense and hated the styles at Penney's, partly because I wasn't skinny, so most clothes didn't fit me well, and partly because, well, I'm a guy. Though a nontraditional guy in most cases, a traditional one when it comes to clothes (I couldn't care less if other guys wear skirts or dresses or whatever, it's just not my personal taste). But I didn't hate clothes --women or otherwise. I could spend lots of time looking at catalogs or even in the stores, just don't make me try on, buy, or wear any of them.
By high school, I actually had accumulated a nice collection of dress up clothes because my mom finally allowed me to have suits, but also because she started making me dress clothes -- I enjoyed the experience of finding the exact cut and pattern as well as the exact fabric and color. It was a bonding experience for us too. I attribute this temporary embrace of dressing up to a couple of factors.
1) I was tired of fighting the status quo and decided to briefly attempt to "grow up", i.e. suck it up and do certain things that were expected of me. Like trying to be a woman.
2) During this time, I was heavily involved in theatre and costuming. My friend/mentor's husband was a brilliant engineer at a university -- as well as a brilliant sewer and designer. I started to appreciate clothes in an atmospheric, historical, and performance sense. So having to wear a dress to church became a performace for me.
....which leads to reason number...
3) I was becoming a big fag. Obviously not all men who want to fcuk men love Barbra and broadway and fabulous tight sparkly dresses with chunky heels (on women). But I did. Pretty much any attempt I made in being 'feminine' were actually more accurately 'queeny'.
....which is related though seems to be the opposite of reason number....
4) I wanted to fuck women. Or more accurately, I was attracted to women, since it wasn't always physical and sexual. So me trying to somehow come to terms with my own disassociated body came from my inability to come to terms with another woman's body. I.e. maybe I could recreate on myself what I wanted on others. Sounds sort of fetishistic, doesn't it?
I definitely have a fetish with socks. I've discussed this with some people before, even people on LJ. I can't stand wearing socks with no pants, and I can't stand when other people do it either -- it seems to go against my nature. Though another fetish of mine is the whole "so-trashy-it's-hot", so sometimes wearing socks is so wrong that it's good. But only occasionally. But I also just love socks in general. I love buying new socks and putting them on for the first time. I love quality socks. I love socks with prints or argyle. For a brief period in college I wore mismatched socks. Unfortunately, I often intentionally mismatched them. Sorta lame, I know, but I was 19 so some slack can be given. I was searching for some sort of subtle identity change, much like the bleached hair or blue hair of 2 years ago.
Clothes are a huge fetish for me too, partly sexual, mostly not. Today I'm wearing dark rinse jeans which are somewhat fitted but mostly long, with my yellow fake Timberland boots. And charcoal grey t-shirt. It's driving me nuts. Looking down at myself causes anxiety. I often have problems with dark rinse jeans because they're basically navy pants and navy is a color I often have problems with because NOTHING goes with it. At least not well. At least not from my closet which is 70% black/gray/charcoal. So even though I love these jeans, the only top I can comfortably wear is the white undershirt or a-frame. Which I can't wear out of the house too often. At least not until top surgery.
My charcoal grey t-shirt with the jeans wasn't intentional -- the shirt is my undershirt which would not be seen under my lighter grey stripey sweater, which looks decent with the jeans (though still not perfect). But the office is so hot, I had to remove the sweater, and now my mood is rotten because I don't look as sharp. Yes, my mood is greatly affected by my clothes. And I don't think it's shallow of me at all. In fact it makes perfect sense -- being trans is all about making the outside accurately reflect the inside. We just deal with it more explicitly than most folks.
But lest anyone be concerned my great concern for clothes makes me judgmental, please don't worry your pretty little Gap trousers. The standards I have for myself are much higher. I definitely notice and appreciate when people have excellent or eccentric taste or clothing, but I don't really let it extend to judgments about their worth as a person or even as a personality. My best friend has one of the best personalities of anyone I've ever met, but I would rarely leave the house dressed like he does. Except for his Ricky Martinesque gay sweater.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-01-31 12:46 pm (UTC)I do. Most people think it's wierd, but I think feet are nasty. My feet, anyways.
no subject
Date: 2002-01-31 12:52 pm (UTC)weird, I know.
but weirder still that I have fucked with socks on and gotten off on how much it bothered me to be wearing socks.
no subject
Date: 2002-01-31 12:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-01-31 01:49 pm (UTC)